jordin.jpgThis is slightly off the beaten path, but I do wonder how many mothers abort babies because they are mixed race?
A July 13 Daily Mail column by Lowri Turner entitled, “I love my mixed race baby – but why does she feel so alien?” prompted the thought.
The piece is refreshingly candid but another one of those “What was she thinking?” writings. Doesn’t Turner realize her daughter will grow up and read it? I am editing it for space constraints, but the entire article is worth reading….
[Photo, courtesy of American Idol, is of Jordin Sparks, 2007 winner, whose father is black and mother is white.]

I am white and I have two sons from my first marriage who are both milky complexioned and golden haired….
Into this positively Scandinavian next generation, I have now injected a tiny, dark-skinned, dark-haired girl. To say she stands out is an understatement….
[T]hree years ago I met the man who became my second husband and who is the father of my daughter.
At the more frothy end of the scale, mixed-race children are regarded as pretty dolls – white kids with a nice tan.
When I was pregnant and people asked me about the child I was having, and I explained her father was Indian, they would often coo something along the lines of: “Ooh, she’s going to be beautiful!” as if I was discussing a new rose, made from an exotic cross-breeding programme….
One reason for my fear is my own mixed reactions to my daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love her….
But when I turn to the mirror in my bedroom to admire us together, I am shocked. She seems so alien. With her long, dark eyelashes and shiny, dark brown hair, she doesn’t look anything like me.
I know that concentrating on how my daughter looks is shallow. She is a person in her own right, not an accessory to me. But still, I can’t shake off the feeling of unease.
I didn’t realise how much her looking different would matter and, on a rational level, I know it shouldn’t. But it does….
As for myself, there is an inescapable status issue to address. White women who have non-white children are stigmatised as ‘Tracy Towerblocks’ living on benefits, most of which they spend on lager and fags….

But it is more than that. I am frightened, frightened of others’ reactions to her, as well as my own. I didn’t think of myself as racist and yet my daughter has shown me a side of myself about which I feel deeply uncomfortable….
This is a role for which I am utterly unprepared. Part of me thinks I should be playing sitar music to her in her cot, mastering pakoras and serving them dressed in a sari, but that would be fantastically fake coming from me.

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