Thoughts from a White Mom of Black Kids
I’ve been sitting here at my keyboard for awhile. Quite awhile, in fact. My fingers are poised upon the keyboard and I’m staring at the blank screen, just watching the cursor blink at me, almost mocking me to share all I’ve been feeling these past several weeks.
Amaud, Breonna, and George. Tamir, Daunte, and Aaron (the list goes on and on). I don’t even need to say their last names at this point because you know exactly who I’m referring to. I’ve heard from many of my white friends as they’ve cried out in shock and in horror of the injustice.
“Welcome to the conversation,” I’ve wanted to say.
You see…as a mom of four Black children, I am not shocked. I’ve seen the injustice for years and have been disgusted by it. I remember sitting down with my best friend Kiesha before bringing little Imani home as an infant. I remember it like it was yesterday, though it was nearly ten years ago. We sat at the bar top in the kitchen and she said gently.
“Terees…if you’re going to have an Ethiopian daughter, then I need to tell you what it’s really like being Black in America…”
My eyes opened for the first time that day.
But that was only the beginning.
Through the years of eventually becoming a mom of six, I’ve come to realize the nice shiny bubble I lived in prior was nothing but an illusion. A farce. Truly, if I were to be real honest and call it for what it really is…I’d tell you it’s nothing but White Privilege.
Did you just recoil at that phrase?
Please stay with me, please keep reading. Because friends, this is important. I need you to hear me.
Maybe you think racism only exists in the South. Maybe it exists in ‘that’ neighborhood or in ‘that’ area or community. Maybe you haven’t personally seen or experienced it. Sadly I could tell you story after story of injustice and racism my sweet kids have already had to endure (you’d be sickened if I told you them all). But dear friend, even if you’ve not seen it… it doesn’t mean it’s not present.
Listen…racial injustice may look different than you think it does.
What about all those times we’ve said, “I don’t see color” or boasted that we’re “colorblind”?
Let me tell you what’s really being said when we say things like this. What this is truly saying to our friends of Color is you don’t see and value them. Of course we see color. If you can see my hair is pink, you can see their skin is dark. Pretending we all look the same or that you don’t see their color is dishonoring.
Seeing no color is not the goal.
The REAL goal is seeing color and honoring it.
Or as Carlos A. Rodriguez recently posted:
“I see your color and honor you. I value your input. I will be educated about your lived experiences. I will work against the racism that harms you. You are beautiful. Tell me how to do better.” …That’s the goal.
I’ve heard my high schooler’s friends say,
“You’re the whitest black kid we know.”
Let me tell you why this is incredibly demoralizing…
This is based on the way my son speaks, dresses, or the things he’s into…but it is only a comment on his not fitting the image or stereotype they have of a Black person.
When my son rejects being called a “super white black kid”, his friends exclaim it to be a compliment — as if the fundamental superiority of being white should have him feeling honored. As if being regarded as white esteems him, lifting him up as lucky to be counted as one of them.
image by @ohhappydani
Reread that, you guys.
Think about it. Truly think about the things we do and say. Unintentional bias is rampant, it’s hurtful, and it’s time for it to stop.
Unitententional bias is racism.
Locking your car door as you see a Black man walking nearby is racism. (Would you have done that if he were white? Did you actually feel un-safe?)
Switching your purse to the other side of your body when Black teens come near is racism.
Eyeing someone non-white, wondering “what they’re doing here” is racism.
Not watching the news or keeping up on what’s going on as all this rises up across the world because it’s “so exhausting” or “makes [your] heart hurt too much” is White Privilege. Our African American community doesn’t get to set it down and come back to it when they are emotionally capable.
Please be a woman who is ready to love, learn, and truly listen to what the Black community is saying and needing.
If you don’t follow me over on Instagram, I encourage you to do so. God’s been working on my heart for years as I’ve really worked to listen, learn, and understand. I’m embarrassed to say it’s taken me longer than it should have to publicly stand up because I was afraid of being judged. I’ve come to realize though, this is too important to continue sitting down. Even if I didn’t have Black kids, I’d be stepping out and standing up. It’s time. It’s overdue. I’m here for the conversation. For the long-haul. If you’d like to dive in further, look at my saved Highlights under #BLM, many are saved there. Scroll through and read my posts and see books I’ve been recommending and people I’m learning from. And my Stories are always a place where I highlight Women of Color I admire, more people I’m learning from, and current events I’m trying to keep up on.
One thing I’d like to point out though, when I say #BLM… I am NOT talking politics. I’m talking about who we are and how we recognize differences. I’m talking about what we do when someone tells us about their pain…how do we respond? Are you willing to acknowledge your world-view may not recognize the reality of many?
Personally, I want to be the kind of woman who embraces others as my eyes are opened to the reality of injustice. Even when it’s uncomfortable. ESPECIALLY when it’s uncomfortable. We may say the wrong things as we continue learning, but still need to join the conversation. Be willing to do the hard work: Read. Listen. Watch. Don’t give excuses that you’re too overwhelmed or too busy. Please. There must be time, we cannot turn our heads. Admittedly, years ago, I didn’t understand and felt like racial injustice was being blown out of proportion. It’s not. That was my advantage talking…that was me being ignorant to a whole lot of pain that I didn’t take the time to understand.
This is not a sprint, friends. This is a marathon. It’s not going to change overnight. Please don’t get too tired and want things to get back to “real life”. Please don’t let that kind of privilege whisper into your ear. Please don’t ask your Black friends to teach you. Google things, purchase books, listen to podcasts, even ask me…but our friends of Color are weary and exhausted. Don’t make them hold your white tears as your eyes have been open to things they’ve been living with since…well…forever.