Skip to main content

Holding Our Sons Closer.....

I write today with a heavy heart. My disgust, rage and sadness over the Zimmerman verdict hasn't lessened over night. However, I am preoccupied with other thoughts. I'm burdened with how insanely difficult it still is to raise black children, especially boys, right now in 2013.

My family and friends and I waited with baited breath for the verdict, hopeful but wary. Abused, neglected and disregarded so many times by the court system, we dared to hope for Lady Justice's blind objectivity even while being resigned to the fact that the color of our skin always lowers our chance for truth, justice and that is the American way. So no I wasn't shocked or surprised.

My children were shocked. They didn't understand. At only 11 and 14 years old they are old enough and smart to understand most of the evidence and facts of the case. Their outrage is not about racism. Their  shock and sadness isn't about racial profiling. It's about innocence and guilt, It's about right and wrong. And even good and evil.They don't understand how the bad guys can win.

And now as a parent it's up to me to explain what I myself cannot fathom. It's my job to make reasonable what can't possibly be reasonable, and I confess, I do not know how.

As a black mother my parenting worries and woes are unique to moms of other races. I have the same concerns about my children's basic health and well being, about their education and future. I worry about their character, their moral being, their very souls. And even if god-willing, they stay illness free, they get straight A's in school, and regularly help old ladies across the street, their chances of making it to adulthood are way lower than their white counter parts. The situations that cause me to pause would never cross the mind of other moms not of color. I am afraid of letting my sons and nephew play with their water pistols in front of the house less someone think the plastic toy gun is real and shoot them. I am nervous when I see police parked outside of the neighborhood park where they play basketball. And now I am terrified to let them walk to  the corner store for some skittles.

So how can I encourage my sons to reach for the stars when I know they aren't safe in their own neighborhoods. I want to teach them that they can be anything in this world. That they have the same chances for success as anyone, but the truth is they don't. How can I expect them to go far in a world that sees them as thugs, menaces, threats? How can they find their place in a society that hunts them with no consequences and no remorse? How can I tell them to respect a law that doesn't protect or serve them?

I don't have the answers today for my children or for myself. I can only hold them a bit closer, and pray that my little boys are the exception and not the rule in a world that doesn't appreciate their value and worth.

My heart goes out to Tracy Martin and Sabrina Fulton. I cannot imagine the heartbreak they've suffered so far and how much more they have to face in their near future.

Rest In Peace Trayvon

You can help by signing a petition for the Justice Department to open a civil rights case against civil rights. Do your part for justice here:

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

10 Things You Never Say To The Mom of An Autistic Child

In honor of Autism Awareness Month, I want to take some time out to do this favor on behalf of parents of ASD kids everywhere. MY ASD baby, Spike was diagnosed very early, at 2 years old. I was so overwhelmed in the beginning. I had so many new medical terms, symptoms, and procedures to learn in addition to the emotional strain of learning I would now be parenting a special needs child. I had a whole lot to learn and no time to do it. It was rough.

In hindsight, I’m sure friends, family, coworkers, and even strangers had just as many questions and concerns. In hindsight, I’m sure most of their comments were innocent and well meaning. However, I have spent many moments fuming with anger, hurt or exasperation due to ignorant, insensitive, or rude comments and questions made to me about my ASD child.

In the hope that I can save some other parents and well-meaning friends and family some hurt feelings and embarrassment. I have compiled 10 Things You Never Say To The Mom of An Autistic Chil…

Who Protects our Children?

Yes, I know I haven't posted in many, many months, but we will deal with that later. There is something so pressing and so heavy on my heart and mind that I needed to address it here, in this space, where I am a Mommy first.

I know we have all seen the video of the Spring Valley student slammed to the ground and literally dragged like a rag doll out of her classroom. This blog isn't even about that. As disgusting and criminal (Yes I said criminal) as his actions were, he's not why I'm here to vent.

I am appalled NO horrified and disappointed and disgusted by how many responded to that video with, "But what did she do? or We can't see what she did before? Or well why didn't she just leave the class or give up the cell phone"" Black parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles all actively LOOKING for a reason to blame this child for this man's horrific violence and contempt towards her. As if there HAS to be another reason for a white police officer w…

Before Autism.....

Before Autism touched my life, I considered myself the kind of mother who pretty much had it together. Before Autism, I worked a full-time executive position, where my obsessive and control freak tendencies served me well. My three children were used to the daily routine of full-time school or daycare. Weaning, potty-training, bedtime issues, discipline, those were things OTHER mothers struggled with, for me it never seemed like a huge deal. I managed to sail through the first 9 years of motherhood without wrinkling my designer clothes, mussing my perfectly relaxed hair, or chipping a french manicured nail. I could never understand what other parents complained about. I was so smug and arrogant. I could not imagine what must go on in the houses of the lady behind me in the check out line with the screaming, rebelling children. I would think to my myself "home girl needs to get it together".

I thought I was done having kids, so my fourth pregnancy was a huge surprise in the m…