Summary of “Helping My Fair-Skinned Son Embrace His Blackness”

For the most part, the neighborhood in New Haven, Connecticut, where we lived for the first 11 years of our son’s life was a refuge from such skeptics.
Sure, the new crop of Yale grad students and junior faculty who moved in each year often looked askance when our son would yell “Mom” to me across grocery-store aisles, but they soon caught on.
Like other mixed-race children, our son started his journey to figure out his racial identity early.
School is the place where kids navigate their identity and relationships apart from their families.
In our children’s case, school was also separate from their neighborhood: Each day, they boarded a bus to attend a diverse magnet school about five miles from our home.
We moved to Washington, D.C., after 16 years in New Haven, and mere weeks before our children started high school and middle school.
Our son sat alongside his cousins of varying hues of black and brown as they listened to stories about how their great-uncle was fired from his factory job after he told his boss he supported Martin Luther King Jr., and how he later sold scrap metal to send my eldest cousin to college.
Our son roared with laughter as his mother and aunties stayed up late singing and dancing to soul, R&B, and old-school hip-hop.

The orginal article.