The Talk

Kayla held her face in her hands. It was time to tell her twins about what they might expect from society at large in regard to their unique identities.  However, unique wasn't quite the word she should use, neither was unusual, as there are many more interracial children in the good old US of A than there were when she was coming up.  She remembered when a cute white girl in high school finally gifted her with the term that sounded a whole lot better than mixed. Mulatto.  It sounded amazing, so exotic, so very refined.  Kayla remembered bursting through the door of her house after school that day, racing up the stairs, and pulling out that massive Webster's dictionary that weighed something significant from the floor of her bedroom closet.  Still out of breath, her heart still racing, she traced her trembling cafe' au lait colored finger until she found it. There it was!  But when she read the definition her excitement evaporated in a nanosecond. Mulatto was Latin for mule.

"Oh my God," she whispered to herself.  Surely, that cute white girl only thought it was the official term used for a "mixed race" person.  At least that's what her uncle told her. She remembered thinking that if black people weren't considered human by a faction of society why would being considered a "mule" by being "mixed" be any different?  Her parents were useless, clueless as neither one of them could understand, or even begin to relate to what the problem was.  Her white European mother scoffed, and told her how she prayed for a child with big black eyes and golden brown skin.  Her father told her to stop with that nonsensical thinking because, being light skinned was a whole lot better, and acceptable by white society than being dark skinned like him. He must've felt that by being with his white wife, whom he abused on the regular, upped his status.  Maybe he beat on her for all the crap he had to put up with from white people.

All her life white people as well as black people told her she had to choose a side. The dilemma was obvious, she would have to deny a part of herself just to get by. Though she thought it was extremely unfair, she chose to indoctrinate herself fully with black people.   After all, she couldn't pass for white in spite of her good hair and lighter complexion.  She married a well respected, beautiful dark brown, black man, and looked forward to raising a family.  She would raise her children and they would be accepted in the black community without the dilemma of appearing as mixed race children. A year later, she gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. Their collective genealogy must've skipped a generation as they were both born with very light complexions, dark auburn wavy hair and green eyes. Kayla wept at the sight of them. She remembered when her husband first saw them, his face was filled with awe and love. Of course, both of her parents were thrilled, and everyone mistook her tears of horror for joy.

Now came the task of the talk. Neither child could pass for white or black, even though their complexions darkened to the same cafe' au lait color as her own. Their hair was still dark auburn with the same wave and texture that was found on a popular shampoo brand, with an image of a mermaid on the bottle. Their light green eyes peered from their faces with a look of inquisitiveness and intensity only children at that age could muster.  At 13 years-old, they had questions.  So, many questions. Kayla's husband came into their bedroom to fetch her.  It was time for the talk, and she had no idea what to say.