I tried to explain my nuclear family...

This week we celebrated the life and achievements of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  When I think about what he stood for and the work he did I am overwhelmed with gratitude. It is because of Dr. King that my uniquely blended family was able to be. What is your greatest family memory? For me, it’s a picture of my family in a tree. I don’t remember taking the picture nor do I remember the event but it reminds me of family. My family is different, unique, and honestly a bit weird but the truth is God blessed me with this crew and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

It wasn’t until high school that I became aware that my family was outside the norm.

Have you ever tried telling your friends about your siblings and they stop you midsentence and ask for a diagram? I have. What’s funny is my family isn’t very big. There are just a lot of moving parts. I am the youngest sibling, cousin, and grandchild. However, there are only 7 of us on my mother’s side of the family. My mother raised me and I did not grow up knowing much about my father or his side of the family (we will get into that in another blog). My mother is a baby boomer, her mother is Cajun French and her father was from Texas. She went to a white high school in New Orleans, LA where she met her 1^st husband and the father of my oldest brother. She then decided to integrate her love life and had 2 biracial children with the man I called my dad, although he was not my dad a black man. Finally, she met my actual father another black man and they had me. I am the youngest of my mothers’ 4 children. However, my father had 2 other children from his 1^st marriage, (We didn’t find out about each other until I was in high school they were in college) that are black. Confused yet? Let’s recap: I have 1 white brother, 1 biracial brother, 1 biracial sister, 1 black sister and 1 black brother. My mother’s sisters (I guess my aunts) also integrated their love lives as well and I have 1 cousin that is half Filipino, 1 cousin that is half Mexican (that I thought was Indian most of my life. My aunt was a belly dancer and lived in India… easy mistake) and one cousin that is really just white but his dad claimed to be French, (we’ll just say he’s white). To sum it all up I have 3 cousins and 5 siblings but my siblings have siblings and that’s what makes my family so much fun.

Now… back to my brother and sisters dad being my dad. When I was 5 or 6 I went with my mom to drop my brother and sister off at their dad’s house. When we got there he asked if I was coming too. My mom said I could go and she would pick me up when she came back for my brother and sister. I sat with their dad on the porch for a min trying to figure out what to call him and since I couldn’t come up with a term I asked him, “What do I call you?” I will never forget that moment because it was the 1^st moment in my life that I was “claimed.” His response was, “You call me daddy because I’m your dad and you are my daughter.” He knew I wasn’t his daughter but he didn’t care because he loved me as if I were.

I grew up with some real craziness; I literally have 2 brothers with the same exact name… - (yeah, true story but don’t get me started on names, because in our family we debunk that idea that black people are the only ones to give their children “unique” names… let’s just say we have some names that will blow your mind in our family. Nevertheless, my point is families aren’t perfect but the love that fills them always will be. My family is black, white, biracial, dysfunctional, and maddening, but most of all loyal. We can label our families whatever we want but what makes them beautiful and unique is YOU! You are the uniqueness your family needs. We don’t get to choose our family members because I really feel God wants to remind us that perfect love cannot be manufactured.

With Love,

Juls