Yesterday, my only child turned 22. Although he’s grown, he will forever remain my baby, as any mother would know.
The Gift
From the moment I learned I was expecting, I felt certain I would welcome a son. I envisioned his features, knowing he would inherit my hair and eye colors while showcasing his father’s athletic physique. His skin tone would be a beautiful blend of both of ours, and I anticipated his natural humor and athletic prowess. However, what I never expected was that the greatest gift I would receive would also carry a heavy burden simply because he is a Black man.
The Reality of Racism
Racism runs deep in this nation; its roots stretch back to the horrible days of slavery and continue to manifest in the tragic violence against Black men today. This isn’t an indictment on law enforcement, as my family includes police officers, and I cherish many friendships within that community. My fears stem just as much from the potential dangers he could face from individuals within his own community as from systemic issues.
The Weight of Perception
My son is a formidable presence—standing at 6 feet and weighing 230 pounds as a linebacker for the University of Arkansas—Pine Bluff Golden Lions, adorned with dreadlocks and numerous tattoos. Unfortunately, these characteristics lead some to perceive him as a threat. He is neither aggressive nor violent, but his skin color alone casts a shadow of suspicion over him.
This reality isn’t just hypothetical. I think about the lives lost, like that of Philando Castile, Walter Scott, and Charles Kinsey, who faced tragic fates during routine encounters. It’s not hard to understand why I am filled with dread for my son.
The Journey Home
As a college student, I always feel a mix of joy and anxiety when he tells me he’s coming home. That joy often morphs into a nagging fear; his drive home means he’ll be “driving while Black.” As his mother, this is what I worry about:
- A routine traffic stop could escalate, leading to his name trending on social media for all the wrong reasons.
- A seemingly innocuous stop at a convenience store could turn into a nightmare, as he might encounter people who feel he doesn’t belong.
I ask him to share his location with me while he travels, knowing that there’s a stretch of highway where he can lose cell service. I can track his journey, and if I notice he hasn’t moved for 21 minutes, panic sets in. My nephews have taken it upon themselves to prepare him for what to do during a traffic stop, as their own fears echo mine. None of them are dangerous, yet there’s always a risk of being treated as if they are.
The Broader Issue
I also recognize that my son faces dangers within his own community. The rates of violence among Black men can be alarming, often stemming from trivial disputes, such as fights over a pair of shoes or even five dollars. It’s heartbreaking to think of a mother mourning her son due to senseless violence.
Trusting in a Higher Power
I can’t be with my son every moment. He is an adult who must navigate life on his own. I place my faith in God to protect him, keeping him and my other loved ones in my prayers. July 26, 1995, marked a day of immense joy in my life, and I hope to celebrate many more birthdays with him.
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Summary
Raising a Black son in today’s society comes with a unique blend of pride and fear. While I celebrate his achievements and the joy he brings, I remain acutely aware of the dangers he faces both from society and within his community. As a mother, I strive to trust in faith while hoping for a future where he can thrive without fear.