We all are familiar with the 2009 pop culture movie hit, The Blindside, which told the story of the Tuohy family (a white, wealthy, southern family) taking in football prodigy Michael Oher (a black teen with a learning disability and an unstable home life) and teaching him the game of football ultimately leading him to a successful NFL career.
I have to admit, I loved the movie the first time that I watched it back in 2009. I fell in love with the white savior narrative – the idea that a white family could leverage their success to help a kid that otherwise would not have had a future.
Welp, you know what they say: experience is the best teacher.
Fourteen years removed from the premier of The Blindside, my husband and I each independently earn six figure incomes (before benefits). We are not wealthy by any stretch of the imagination, but we certainly aren’t struggling. I am painfully cognizant of our economic and social privilege. We are also licensed foster parents who have experienced the brokenness of the “system” hand-in-hand with our foster child.
It is so incredibly easy to see us and see our foster child and say, “he would have a better life with you.” While it may be true that he would certainly enjoy better economic privilege and be exposed to more opportunities, I don’t subscribe to this narrative.
The role of foster families is not to provide an alternative means of living for the children that they home, rather, our role is to stand in the gap. What do I mean by that? It’s simple: we are their surrogate family. We are not “instead of” the family that they came from, but rather we are simply there to provide these children with a sense of normalcy while their first family takes the time that they need to work through whatever situation led to the removal.
With that goal in mind, I fundamentally do not believe that any foster or adoptive parent has the right to tell their child’s story, unless the child gives their consent once they have reached adulthood (and even then, why would you want the intimate details of your child’s trauma?).
As a foster parent, I think that the Tuohy’s choice to knowingly publish their child’s story – and to profit off of that publication – is morally repugnant as best. Even if their objective was to “raise awareness” about children “like” Michael Oher – the choice to publish and profit off of that story was wrong.
Simply put: the story wasn’t the Tuohy family’s to tell. If the story came from anyone, it should have come from Michael Oher – it is the story of his life after all.
The Tuohy family seemed to be “blindsided” (see that I did there) by Michael Oher’s suit. To be honest, I am just surprised that it didn’t happen sooner. Michael Oher has gone on record several times over the years stating how the film inaccurately depicted him as dumb and needing to be taught football by Leigh Ann Tuohy – which he states is not true.
The published work on the Tuohy family cannot be taken back. The Academy Award winning film cannot be unseen. Michael Oher will live in infamy as the ward of the Tuohy family that was taught the game of football. His stellar college career, first round pick, 8 seasons in the NFL, and Super Bowl win will always be over shadowed by the infamy of The Blindside. His story – his truth – is not his own because the Tuohy family drove the narrative.
Folks, I wish with every fiber of my being that I could tell you about the miraculous work that God has done in my little man’s life. But the fact remains – it’s not my story to tell.
As foster parents, part of loving our foster children (and their first families) well is understanding that we are the guardians of their story.
Let’s be the generation of foster parents that severs the “white savior” narrative and draws attention back to the true and desperate needs plaguing our communities and to the one true Savior.
The Lady Esquire 