This Lady Got Me to Thinkin'

Recently my family and I went out to eat at a newly opened burger joint in town. The local news social network page posted an image a few weeks ago of the restaurant's signature burger with a side of tater tots that made my mouth water. So I jumped at the first chance to go check the place out.
 The restaurant was in a shopping square that also had an organic foods store, day spa, over-priced, hand painted "modern antique/rustic" home decor store, and a few other places. Safe to say that this area's customer base are those who have a little extra "money to burn." This was evident by the continuous stream of luxury SUVs that entered the parking lot.
Their were very few customers in the restaurant as it was a weekday and we were after the lunch crowd when every returns to work. Above the order counter there was the large menu, with everything broken down. I guess it was one of those build-your-own-burger type of establishments.
Looking at a new menu for the first time is like trying to learn a new language; you recognize a few characters, but the whole thing makes no sense. It reminds me of when I was stationed in Okinawa, Japan back in the day. When off base and hungry you would have to one of the local eateries. Just like in the U.S. there was McDonald's, Subway, KFC, and a few other familiar names along with many others that we were not familiar with. Oh, MOS Burger, how I miss thee! Some of the restaurants did their best to have translations of their menus and procedures, but the method I enjoyed was the picture menu on the counter. The McDonald's had a menu right there on the order counter, so for those that could not speak the language all you had to do was point at the picture of what you wanted, signal with your fingers how many, dig into your pocket, grab a handful of cash and hand it to the cashier. She/he would then take the correct amount and give you back the rest. When your order was ready they would signal to you. A really nice system I would say.Now back to my original story.

A menu from a McDonald's in Japan

After placing our order we sat down and waited for our food to arrive, which did arrive rather quickly since there was only one or two other orders ahead of us. The children get their food and and dig in. Me and my wife's meals come about a minute or two later. Between the time of the kids getting their meal and us receiving ours, an older woman enters the restaurant. She appeared to be in her late 50's, white, and with a couple of different bags from various stores in the shopping square. The only way I can best describe her is that she looked kind of like a hippie or maybe a bag-lady just not "dirty" or as extreme. We were sitting in a booth and had our youngest in a booster seat at the end of the table. The woman began smiling and waving at the baby, then came over to tell us how cute our children are. As a parent with young children, especially a baby, this happens often. You find yourself smiling and answering questions about the child's age and name, while in your head you pray for the person to hurry up and finish with making faces and baby talk so that you can continue with what you were doing. Don't get me wrong, some of these people that come up to you are some of the nicest people you will ever meet, it's just that awkwardness of your child looking at you with that "Who the hell is this and what do they want" face. That and sometimes people want to hang out and chat when you are in a hurry. We are nice to these people because we were raised that way, and who doesn't like a compliment every now and then.
So, the woman continues to play with our baby for a few seconds more before going up to the counter to place her order. I was glad because my food arrived and I didn't want to seem impolite my ignoring her and descending upon that burger (which, by the way, looked smaller than the picture posted online). It seemed like the restaurant cashier was familiar with the woman because she called her by her name as she escorted the woman to her table by the window, with order in hand. From what I could tell she ordered a "zen hotdog," you know, "One with everything." Every now and then while eating her food, the woman would look over at our baby, smile and wave. I pretended to be looking elsewhere as not to look and feel awkward while eating.
Nearing the end of our meal, and apparently after completing her own meal, the woman comes over to our table again to compliment us on our "beautiful and handsome" children. She then says to me that she "admires" me, and that I am a good father because I am "here with my family, and not with some other family." I look at my wife from under the brim of my hat with a "that just happened" look. She then says to my wife that she is very beautiful to have had all these children. After a few more compliments to the children the woman takes her leave. I watched as she crossed the parking lot to her vehicle and drove away.
My wife asks me, "What did she say to you?" to which I recalled what the woman said while still feeling some disbelief.
An immediate thought came to mind, but I held back, thinking that it's possible the woman said what she did not knowing that it could strike an offensive tone. There could be a number of reasons she said what she did. She could be a divorcee whose ex-husband was guilty of having another family on the side. A close friend or family member may have been in a relationship with a philanderer and she was witness to the pain it caused. I would like to think that it was based on having witnessed such things rather than the immediate thought that I wanted to believe false: racism. Not a "I hate those people" racism, but a racism based on media-fed ignorance, stereotypes, and unfortunately, the truth.
 It is not the first time something like this has happened. I have taken the kids out with me before and have received looks of approval from passers by. It is not a common sight to see a man with kids in tow, one in a car seat, especially if that man is black, even more so if he is black and young (I admit, I can't consider myself young for much longer, but I don't think I'm old). I was even been approached by a woman once (she was black) who said to me that it's "good to see a black man taking care of his kids. You don't see that too often."

The responsible young black man should not be on the endangered species list.

 Seeing a black man taking care of his children should not be something looked at with wonder. It should not be celebrated as something rare and uncommon. Although I appreciate the comments received, me as a black providing for and raising my children should be something commonplace. The media has a field day showcasing young black men on the news in an ongoing cycle of regulars on the police blotter. It gets to the point where they all look the same and you begin to wonder if they ever tune into the news to see that the crime they are thinking about committing has already been attempted and has failed many times over.
Although my parents divorced when I was very young, my father was there for me. He taught me valuable life lessons that I try to teach my kids. For many young black men there is no father or positive father figure. He is either dead, incarcerated, shirking responsibilities, or many other "reasons." In the place where a father should be you find poor examples of what a man is comprised of. When there is no positive role models to aspire and emulate, these young men turn to what they do know. Many of the "hood" rap artist are not only perpetuating the stereotype, but are falsifying a lifestyle of living fast, rarely emphasizing that the end result is dying hard. The lure of easy money, power through fear and violence, and the minimization of women are some of the things that feed the fire of ignorance for the young black man.
 So, can I really blame this older white woman for what she said? If the problem is so rampant that everyone knows about it, then maybe she just assumed that what she said to me would be taken as a compliment, and not as a an offense to me as a black man working to not be a stereotype nor a statistic.