Too Much Attention Why do our darker-skinned children receive attention and flattery from strangers—and what are we to do about it? By Marybeth Lambe, M.D.

Standing in a grocery checkout line, Yuanjun flushes a deep red when yet another store clerk praises his beautiful eyes. "Make them talk to Brendan next time," he implores. Our African-American daughter, Emma Rose, long ago grew weary of comments from strangers about her "gorgeous hair," "lovely eyes," and "glorious smile." Shen Bo, our youngest, whispers to me as we wait our turn at the dry cleaners, "Why am I so pretty?" Our pale-skinned, biological children notice such compliments, as well. When they were younger, it was a puzzle. Why did their darker-hued sisters and brothers get all the attention? I recall seven-year-old John rolling his eyes at the bakery: "No one ever offers me a free cookie because of my pretty eyes!" And I remember seeing 11-year-old Sara shooting a disgusted look at her little sister: "Chengming gets away with murder on the school bus because she's so cute! The bus driver doesn't even smile at me!" What is happening here? Can a compliment not be a compliment? Our sprawling multiethnic and multicultural family wonders about this almost every day. All seven of our children are beautiful—at least to this foolish mother’s eye. So what troubles me about such praise? Are our darker-skinned children unusually attractive? Or is it possible these compliments mask a subtle racism? Motives matter I know that our family attracts a certain amount of curiosity simply because our kids’ ethnicities are uncommon in our small town, and that a compliment can be a way to start a chat. I myself have sidled up to families that resemble ours, or shyly asked an African-American mother about her daughter’s braid style. But some compliments—the ones Emma Rose calls “embarrassing”—seem different, and kids can sense the false note in them. Emma Rose became aware of racial distinctions when she started school. “Mom, there are only five other brown kids in my whole class, but none of the other kids can tell us apart! I am so tired of being called Amber or Chandra!” A few years later, she came home with a different complaint. “Everybody keeps saying how pretty my hair is—nobody knows about extensions, Mom. The kids try to touch my hair and play with it.” And at age 10, “Maybe I make them nervous. Maybe they don’t know how to talk to me.” Her voice dropped lower. “Maybe,” she whispered, “they really think I’m ugly….” No, it is not the compliments themselves I am assailing. My anguish is for my children, who quickly figure out why they are recipients of such extravagant praise. Will the mother of Emma Rose’s classmate, the mother who always rushes to comment on Emma Rose’s beauty, balk when teenage Emma Rose wants to date her son? My instincts tell me that that mother is overcompensating for a degree of racial discomfort. Reverse prejudice perhaps, but discrimination all the same. Emma Rose, now 16, tells us that over-the-top compliments, far from increasing her self-confidence, make her feel set apart from her classmates. Talking it through Becoming aware of this type of reverse racism does not mean we’ve become rude or hostile. We ask our children to accept compliments with respect and modesty. A muttered “thank you” and a smile will suffice. But in the privacy of our car or home we may ask, “How did it make you feel?” The answer is often, “Embarrassed,” “I wanted to hide behind you,” or, the saddest, “I wished I were white, so people would stop looking at me.” We also ask, “Why do you think that person said that?” and “How do you want to handle it?” “Emma Rose, why do you suppose the pastor’s wife kept telling you how soft your skin is?” Amazingly, the kids often figure it out themselves. “Well, Mom, I think Mrs. Rogers had never felt an African American before. Can you imagine? I was her first example.” Emma Rose When is a compliment not a compliment, our family often wonders? giggles, “Man, she needs to get out more—half the youth group is black.” This has been a revelation for our lighter-skinned children. It was a relief for Sara to realize her auburn hair and her blue eyes are indeed beautiful. And it has saddened her to understand, finally, why Emma Rose always gets compliments. Sara no longer feels “plain” or “ugly,” and she is now indignant for her siblings, who must deal with unwanted attention. As our children have grown, they have taken a larger role in speaking up, and they feel empowered to do so. How do you change society? One person at a time. Yet, it is not our children’s job to erase others’ bias. They have lives to live and a world to explore. As Caucasians, my husband and I have never had to endure, personally, the kind of uncomfortable attention our darker-skinned children face. I would not offend any of my children by pretending otherwise. What we do know, almost as well as they do, is that some people will carry prejudice forever. Our job, as parents, is to recognize the reality of racism, and to be a sounding board for our children’s frustrations. I cannot resolve every encounter—nor would I want to—but I can listen, I can let them grieve a little, and I can try to teach. Marybeth Lambe, M.D., is a family physician and writer who lives on an organic dairy farm in Washington state.©2011 Adoptive Families. All rights reserved.