What The Mother Of A Black Son In America Fears The Most

[sheshe2]

When I discovered I was pregnant with my second child, I was cautiously excited. I knew that at my age, 39, I had a higher risk of complications, so through the early weeks I tried to avoid thinking of the embryo inside me as an actual child who would be entering my life. But when I had the standard screenings for genetic abnormalities, the technician told me one of the tests would reveal the gender, too. I said yes, I wanted to know. To be prepared.

A week later, the nurse called. “It’s a boy.” Dread was a hot flush in my head that drained and pooled in my chest, made my heart churn and my hands shake. A boy. Some mothers would be overjoyed. I was terrified.

My first child is a girl. I know black girls and women die in America with disturbing frequency. But Trayvon Martin’s face haunts me still, five years after his murder. I think I’ve known Emmett Till’s shy smile my whole life. As a child, I dreamed about his soft body, beaten bloody. What would become of the black boy I would bear into this world?

Thirteen months later, my son sleeps fat-cheeked and round-bellied in his bassinet. Dread and fear are not like a heavy load, which can be carried or not; they’re not like animals, which can follow you or not. My dread and fear at having a black boy child in America are like bones, dense and marrow-filled at my center, weighing me down. They are like organs, pulsing in my gut.

But my son, with his dimples and delicate ears, inspires tremulous hope, too. In hope lies such strength, and also such weakness, bound as it is with constant terror. All of this coalesced in one feeling at the end of that phone call, and that feeling glows every time I look at my beautiful little boy. Love. I am his mother, and that means this: As a parent, I let him know he is precious. As a writer, I tell his stories. As a citizen, I strive for a world that will not strike him down in violence, but will grant him safety and grace and life.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/what-the-mother-of-a-black-son-in-america-fears-the-most_us_595555d3e4b05c37bb7d0875?section=us_black-voices

It should not have to be this way, yet it is. Sadly it is in 2017.

[irisblue]

1. He is in a crib and his loving mother is planning on giving him 'that talk'

[sheshe2]

2. Sad isn't it?

And to feel the fear of raising a black boy in what should be a joyous moment.

[lunamagica]

3. Wow Sheshe. This is truly hearbreaking

[sheshe2]

4. I have not been back here for awhile.

I figured it would just sink. Yes, my heart breaks that a mothers first thought would be no and terrified she was going to have a boy. This is not right, lunamagica. How do we change this? I do not know.


Tears and a thank you for responding, luma~

[lunamagica]

6. I wish I knew Sheshe. It pains me that this thread has received so little response

That is just wrong.

Las November was a real slap in the face for me. I knew things were far, far from perfect, but the lever of racism, misogyny and xenophobia surprised me. I'm convinced that Hillary won and that the election was stolen, but still, too many millions of voters support him. They adore him because he allows them to proudly show their putrid real selves.

I feel like since November I've aged 20 years...

[sheshe2]

7. I agree with everything you just said, luna.

It is so sad how low tRump and his supporters have taken this country. We as a people are now less safe than we ever were before.

[irisblue]

8. B/C of 'missing posters' from this group & the rest of DU

traffic in this group is way down. I learned so much & miss their intelligent posts so much. ::sigh::

[lunamagica]

10. ITA. The board is not the same without them

[The Polack MSgt]

5. powerful writing

Thanks for the link. It takes something as well written as this to get me to click over to HuffPo nowadays.

Jesmyn Ward is a name I'll look for from now on.

[sheshe2]

9. Thanks, MSgt.

It is a powerful read. It makes me very sad that this is a way of life, the joy mixed with fear.