Please Check One

I received a packet from my daughter's school this week. It's the typical stuff; welcome back letter, medical information forms, school lunch program application, and a general information form. Not having anything better to do at the moment, I began to fill out the forms.

Name: Taylor (of course I put her full name, but since she's already going to need therapy because her mother writes about her every week, I won't include it here)

Date of Birth: May 8, 1992

Address: (again, see explanation for 'name')

Gender: FEMALE. I always put this in capital letters so that people are aware that Taylor is a girl. Not that it really matters. We once waited in the pediatrician's office for two hours because the desk receptionist was looking for a little boy. "Taylor just had to be a boy's name," she explained to me.
"Sure," I replied. Taylor Leigh-Anne is obviously a boy's name.
We found a new pediatrician. If they would assume she was a boy, they might also assume that a gaping chest wound was just a scratch.

Anyway, I work my way though the maze of innocuous questions: parent's names, telephone numbers, in case of an emergency contacts, allergies, medications, etc. Suddenly, there it was. The Question that annoys me to the ends of the earth every time I see it.

Race (please check one):

For those of you that might not know my daughter is biracial or as, we refer to it a multicultural cocktail. There are at least three different races coursing through her veins and I resent having to ignore all but one of them. Last year I took turns checking off the options, checking Caucasian on one form, Black on another and the obnoxious "Other" category on the third. At least that way I was acknowledging a more complete background, even if it was on several different forms. I got some acknowledgement of my own as well. The principal called me.

"Ms. Francis, I have a few questions for you," he began.

"Fire away," I replied.

"Do you have more than one child named Taylor?"

"Uh no, as a matter of fact I only have one child period."

"And that would be Taylor, correct?"

"Uh-huh."

There was a pause, then an audible intake of breath. "Could you tell me what race Taylor is?"

Ah..thus the reason for the call, the forms. This was going to be fun.

In as innocent a voice I could muster, I answered, "Well, didn't I address that on the forms? I know I must have checked something."

Again, a pause through which you could drive a truck. "Well, that's the problem, Ms. Francis. You checked something different on all three forms. You checked African American on one, Caucasian on another, and Other on the third. If you could kindly tell me which is the most accurate answer, I would be glad to correct the other two forms."

At this point, my cackles went up and I really wanted to lay in to this man for making such an insulting statement. However, realizing that my anger would not help, I resorted to my best weapon: the crushing grip of logic combined with my sarcastic sense of humor.

"Well, that could take some time to figure out. You see her father's grandfather came over here from Germany, but his parents, Taylor's great-great grandfather, or is it just great? Anyway, his parents were Italian and German. Then her grandmother on her father's mother's side was Irish, but she married a Scot..."

Ms. Francis if you could..."

"Then there's my side of the family. My grandparents on both sides, Taylor's great-grandparents were both of Indian descent, meaning Native American. Then of course, they both married people of the African persuasion, but there is also some Latin American and Mediterranean in there somewhere. So, I'll tell you what. Just a soon as our DNA comes back from the lab, and we have a definitive answer to the question, I will let you know. Whatever the highest percentage is, that's what we'll go with. After all, this is a democracy and we are all equal, right?"

Silence. Then an audible sigh.

"Hello?" I called innocently into the receiver.

"Ms. Francis, I think that for now we can leave the forms the way they are."

"Oh really, are you sure? I would hate to cause you any unnecessary problems."

"It's fine Ms. Francis, it's not a problem. You have a nice day." Then the line went dead. The gentleman retired soon after, but I'm sure it's just coincidence.

So now again, here I am facing the dreaded "Race, check one" question. I could do what I did last year, I could pick one of the races and ignore the others, or I could check "other" and make them guess. But my pragmatic side took over and I did the only logical thing:

Race: (check one)
Black (check)
Caucasian (check)
Other (check)

And if I get a telephone call this year, I have wonderful news. I just found out that Taylor's great grandfather on her father's mother's side was from Greece...

Originally published in The Einkwell, November 2002

- posted by Kim @ 3:20 PM