When the doc said, “It’s another boy” I knew there were discussions I’d never have to have with my children.
- Whether you like it or not, people will expect more or less from you because of that tight shirt and/or short skirt. And “more” or “less” isn’t good in this situation.
- If this new guy pulls you into an ally, it isn’t funny or cute. Get out.
- Keep your eye on your drink.
I can teach my boys to respect women: to not pull them into alleys. To not judge a woman by her clothing, but by her ideas. But I’m not the Mom of the child who has less power in certain situations. The Other Mom prays her child won’t wake up in a stranger’s house unsure of how she got there.
Those are prayers I don’t have to say for my boys.
There was always another talk I would never have to have with my boys. I won’t have to discuss how people will treat them differently because of their skin color. I won’t have to tell them “how things are.” I won’t have indepth authority figure discussions. And I won’t have these and other discussions because they’re white. Maybe I’m naive and African American/Hispanic/Asian Mothers don’t have these discussions because it’s a part of their lives from Day One. I don’t know. I can’t possibly know.
But I can discuss race with my boys. A long time ago, I used to think it was important to raise my boys to be colorblind. But that’s not a good option, it was a thought because I’m white. I should raise them to understand that race is part of your story. The color of your skin brings you struggle and also brings passion to your life. Your story is shaped by your ethnicity just as mine is by my gender. This should be respected.
I can pray that my boys grow up to help end racism, fight injustice, respect your story, and treat everyone equally.
But when I go to bed at night, I won’t say the same prayers other Moms whisper.
And it saddens me that they still need to say those prayers.
25 :: 30
I got nothing. Maybe I’ll come up with something later.