I have always been fascinated by images such as these of Black and other people of color with White children. For a time I worked as an in-home child care provider. It was a strange position in which to find myself and I felt that I had come full circle. And not in a good way. My grandmother and several of her female relatives did work in White people’s homes. So that their descendants would not have to. Even as they were part of the “Black middle class” and had their family accomplishments printed in the local Black newspaper, they did laundry and cleaned silverware and changed diapers on the other side of town. I wish I could somehow make the Black people in these images speak to me, so that I might know what they were thinking. I wonder if these adults had children of their own, and if the Black boy in the one photograph lived with his parents. I don’t know “whose people” these people are. But just in case they have none (or none that they know about or who know about them) I will claim them as my own ancestors.