In the wake of Treyvon Martin, Michael Brown, and Erick Gardner, I am amazed that in 2014 my husband and I are asking ourselves, how do we raise a black man in America? I don't have a witty example of how these tragedies have taught me some life lesson I can pass on to my son. This post will not end with some modern moral to share with children generations from now. This post is a letter to my children and it truly is my woe, from a mother's heart.
Dear Ariana and Nate,
First, I must tell you, Mommy loves you more then you can ever imagine. You two have saved my life and motivate me to want to be the best person I can be. In all my hopes and all my dreams, I pray that as you grow you have the opportunity to reach your fullest potential and when you reflect over your years, your regrets are few.
I imagine my desires for you are not drastically different then the desires of any other mother. And yet, my worries for you are distinct and specific to you, I, and other black mothers, fathers, and children across our land. You see, a long time ago, in the "olden days" (as you call them Ariana) when your grandmothers and grandfathers were young, an evil sat over our country. And this evil fed on the fears and terror of black people. This evil lived in the hearts of people who convinced themselves and each other that "this is the way things are, and nothing is ever going to change." And, these words justified their actions in their minds. They convinced themselves that their actions were not wrong, or evil because they were doing what everyone else did. Their actions weren't illegal according to men's laws; the laws that they wrote. And, since only a few were harmed for not conforming, then this really isn't a society problem, rather it's a problem for the few. In other words, they told themselves that black and brown people would not be beaten, abused, maimed, or killed if they just listened and followed the rules. This thinking is rooted in control.
What those controlling people couldn't see were the scars that formed deep under black and brown skin. Those same scars found roots in the souls and spirits of black and brown people. Those who lived through these dark years learned that evil is just below the surface of everyday life, and they taught their children the same. Those that inflicted hurt and pain on others also learned the control they had in their actions and subtle fear, and they taught their children the same. We all learned that this pressure pot can erupt at any moment. God forbid this pressure show its ugly head and the anger on both sides can't be controlled. When old pains rise to the surface, it is in those moments that any black or brown person can be abused, maimed, or killed, and those doing the killing blame the victims in the aftermath. It is also in those moments that black and brown people can hurt others in their anger and in their pain. This, my darlings is a legacy of fear.
This fear has caused more harm then most care to admit. Many are afraid to leave their homes. They are afraid to travel in unknown neighborhoods or places. They are afraid to apply for jobs. They are afraid to join groups. They are afraid to speak up. They are afraid to demand more. They are afraid to ask questions. They are afraid to say, "No!" They are afraid to negotiate. They are afraid to seek more. They are afraid to find common ground with a person who doesn't look like them. And, they are afraid to see themselves in a person whose social status is different from theirs. This FEAR has gripped our nation. This FEAR has crossed racial, and socio-economic barriers. Everyone has fear, and most are afraid to admit it.
I could share with you all the horrible things that happened to Mommy, because someone else thought they had the right to judge me without knowing me. I have been discriminated against for being a woman, for being a minority, for being young and beautiful, and for being poor. Some people hated me because I asked, "Why?" Others assumed that I was uneducated because of the street I lived on. I saw police officers harass children as young as 6 and demand white children to not play with the black and brown kids in the same neighborhood.
I have watched men judge me and attempt to limit my prospects, because God saw fit to make me a woman. I have experienced peers calling people who look like me "niggers" and "wet backs" while attending college. I have heard elitist, both white and black, call fellow humans "poor people" and look down on them because they do not come from means.
I have lived through these judgments and attacks and survived, but not with out my own scars.
Time has not proven to heal these wounds. The scars are fresh and they open back up every time a minority mother cries out because she lost a child, and every time law enforcement or the media or commentators blame that child, that mother, or the neighborhood for that child's death. Some mothers lose their kids to violence in their neighborhoods. Some mothers lose their kids because of violence in their families. Some mothers lose their kids because of violence in school. Some mothers lose their kids because of judgments from people in authority. Too many mothers lose their kids because of the fears of someone else.
I fear for you, my son, afraid that someone looking at you may think you are poor, or a gang member, or that you are not educated, and, therefore it is okay to hurt or harass you, or lie on you to justify their own bad behavior.
I fear for you, my daughter, that someone may look at you and think because your skin is brown you do not deserve respect or you are not educated, so it is okay to demean you, treat you and your body disrespectfully, and then say you asked for it.
I fear that the both of you will live in a world where you can easily be victimized, and that you will be left defending your character before anyone will address your pain. I fear that you, too, will be scarred and bitter because for far too long, we have failed to acknowledge our fears. In America, black and brown people are afraid to demand more and when they do they are criticized and demeaned for doing so. In America, many Americans would rather deny that this pain is real, or that this fear exists, which adds to our systemic problems. Instead, Americans would rather say your problems are your own, and that you and your people are accountable for your own actions. These same people say that if you do have fear, the fault is your own. In America, some black and brown people have lost hope and have reverted to engaging bad behaviors. In America, some black and brown people have accepted the categorizations and embraced the stereotypes. I pray that you never let another's negative perception of you become your reality.
In America, white people refuse to admit they have fears also, and they will not admit that they operate in those fears, however unreasonable. They use their fears to justify their bias and bad behavior. Then, they feign they are bullied, attack first, and then they point their the finger at their victims.
And, many people (black, brown, white, and any every other shade) put whole groups of people in boxes, never looking at the individual, but internalizing personal bad experience and projecting those experiences on whole races. Thus, unfairly adding to this great divide in our nation.
I pray you will grow to be happy and healthy adults. I pray my generation finally looks in the mirror and sees individuals and not whole ethnic groups. I pray that I do not have to tell your teachers or school administrators that I am a lawyer, to make them think twice about unfairly judging you or counting you out in school. I pray that every opportunity is open to you because you are bright, amazing, young people and our society's hope rests in you and every American child.
I pray that you will have the freedom to try and fail, with out persecution or unfair judgement. I pray your mistakes are your own and not that of the entire brown and black population. I pray you can love whomever you want, and that your friends reflect the world. I pray you continue to shine, despite the darkness.
And, for myself, I pray the fear of raising black and brown children in America will become a faded dream.
I pray for the day that my only concern is whether you will find love and work in the profession of your dreams; instead of my present concern that you will leave my house one morning and not return because of a passing thought in the mind of someone else.
23 years ago Mommy's brother (your uncle) died because an older black man thought he shouldn't live. The district attorney didn't prosecute your uncle's murderer because your uncle was an 18-year-old black man hanging with his friends, smoking marijuana, in a neighborhood with gangs. In other words, they labeled your uncle a gang member whose life was not worth much to society. My babies, I know many white young men who smoke marijuana, I don't know one who lost his life for it.
23 years later, nothing has changed. So, understand that Mommy's Woes are real. Presently, you don't have the freedom to try everything. You don't have the freedom to go everywhere. You don't have the freedom to say any and everything that comes to your mind. But, if you do, know that Mommy's prayers are with you, and I will always love you. I pray you make great decisions. But, even with that there is no guarantee you will be safe.
So I commit you in God's hands and pray you will survive this world. I pray you live to an old age and have the blessing to meet your children and your children’s children. You will be better then my generation and your grandparent's generation. You will show the world it can be better.
Love Mommy!
