They Matter

I am not quiet, I am not docile, I am not meek…especially when it comes to my children. But it happened. I became a shell of the person I knew myself to be, and I froze.

As a black woman, married to a black man, raising black children in America, we are in a precarious time. Here is a snippet of what we are dealing with:

• Injustices from healthcare to the justice system

• Slain and beaten black bodies throughout our news feed

• Fake apologies of privilege

• Embolden racists

• Tone-deaf “allies”

• and so much more

While trying to nurture and heal our trauma, we are still expected to smile and educate people acting like we and our experiences are new. I have been quiet and not because I didn’t have anything to say but because I didn’t have anything NEW to say. We have been shouting from the rooftops, begging for them to SEE US, BELIEVE US, CARE FOR US and HELP US. No one cared until we destroyed a Target.

I’m not sure what was different about George Floyd’s death, but the moment it happened, the air changed.

Being Black in this country (if we’re being honest, anywhere) is exhausting. We are torn between our reality and their fragility. At an early age, we are conditioned on how to fit in their world while not taking up too much space. We were taught to code switch, speak “good’ English, don’t be so wild, don’t be so loud. We weren’t allowed to be free black children. We are ever so concerned about how they see us and what they think of us. I want my children to take up space and know what it’s like to be wild and free; I want them to be honored and respected. These past couple weeks have been beyond challenging to navigate. I’m not sure what was different about George Floyd’s death, but the moment it happened, the air changed. We didn’t know what was coming. We just knew something was coming. I have gone through every emotion; I cried until I was dry, burned hot with rage, and emptied myself until I thought I had nothing left. Being in quarantine has helped with what’s been brewing underneath the surface. I didn’t have to hide my anger or fears, I didn’t have to force a smile, or hello, I didn’t have to make myself fit into their world.

We recently moved into a predominantly white neighborhood (not on purpose). Early on, we learned that we were one of only two black families in our immediate neighborhood. The microaggressions started very subtly, and we ignored them, dismissed them, and tried not to be the “those people.” There is a sub-neighborhood within our neighborhood that opens to the public as a walking trail. We’ve been walking it since we moved in. We’ve met some wonderful people and some unmentionables. A week ago, I decided to take the kids on a late walk so my husband could get some rest. We made it a quarter of the way when I realized that we weren’t going to be able to make it all the way around. Just as we were about to turn back, a young couple with two dogs came up to speak with the children and let them pet the dogs (CK needed some convincing). I chatted with the woman as the man allowed CK to talk his ear off about the solar system. We all decided to head back together.

I wanted to react, but I couldn’t…

As we approached the exit, I noticed a group of white women and dogs slightly ahead of us. CK was running behind Kynadie’s bike, they were ahead of us, but I could hear and see them. As I’m chatting with the husband, I hear, “I SAID NO!” Those were the words of a white woman as she bent over my sweet boy. I couldn’t tell you how I got to that woman so fast with Afeni in tow, but by the time she was done addressing my child, I was there. Startled, she jumped and quickly tried to explain herself, saying that her dog couldn’t be petted, and she had told him that multiple times. My 3-year-old son is not a dog person. He isn’t the type of kid who runs up to pet a dog, and he has to warm up to them. I can’t imagine him running up to a stranger and her very large dog and reaching out to touch it without permission. Regardless, we were just a few feet away. There was no way that she had the opportunity to tell him no or stop that many times before she decided to scream at my child with his parent within earshot.

She would not have yelled at Parker or McKenzie like that. Would she have felt so emboldened if that child were white? Would she have seen him as a curious little boy if he were white? Would she have been more gentle if he were white? There is no need for speculation. The answer is yes. Hot anger fell over me, but I couldn’t speak. I did not address her or look directly at her. I focused solely on my children and removing them from the situation. I heard the couple we were with come to my son’s defense and reprimanded the woman for yelling. I felt that had I opened my mouth everything I was feeling would have come up and out on that woman. I ruminated over that incident for days. I was angry and disappointed that I didn’t react the way I should have. I questioned if I would have responded differently if we were in a public space. I am acutely aware of the neighborhood demographics, and if something were to happen between one of the neighbors and us, it would not go in our favor. I do not like having to constantly think about things like that or feel how I felt in that moment.

Our children aren’t viewed as children in this world. A 19-year-old white rapist can be called and looked at as a boy, but a 12-year-old black little boy is considered a dangerous threat. These are the conversations black parents have to have with their children on how to navigate a world that is hell-bent on mistreating them. We are tired. We are afraid. We are frustrated. And we are DONE! Our children deserve better. They are beautiful, brilliant, resilient, and magical, and as parents, we will fight until our last breath to ensure the world sees them as such.

So, to my mamas out there raising beautiful, black babies, stay strong, love them hard, teach them to honor their melanin, and teach them to love themselves and each other fiercely. We are in this TOGETHER!

XOXO,

Whitney

Now enjoy some pictures of my beautiful black babies! Kynadie (10), Cassio “CK” II (3), and Afeni (11 months)