Background - part 1

So now that I've decided (sort of) what I'm going to do with this blog, a little background is called for to give context to my musings on cultural appropriation and being a multi-cultural family.

You see, I grew up in a multicultural family. My (very white) mother married my African-American stepfather when I was young. My relationship with my "real" father was very strained, so I've always considered my stepfather to be my dad. So much so that for a large part of my childhood, I wished I looked like him so that people wouldn't think it strange that he was my father.

There is a story my family tells about one time we all went to church togethre when my parents were dating. All four of us kids were there - two of us blond, aged 5 and 3 and two of us black, aged 4 and 1. This was in the Pacific Northwest in about 1972 or 1973. A little old Norwegian lady was looking at our family with great confusion. My dad leaned over, and told her quite seriously "for those two, I was on top and for those two, she was on top ." "Ohhh," she said, as if she now understood it all perfectly.

I don't remember this, but every time my parents told the story, I got a little glow inside, thinking "this is my family," happy to belong with them and to be a family - even if the rest of the world didn't always see it the same way.

More later.

Meg