When I found out I was having boys I was terrified. Honored God chose me for such a beautiful adventure. Knowing that He would lead me and that He had equipped me for everything it entailed but still afraid because of the world and it’s perceptions. Sure becoming a mother is scary in itself because there isn’t a manual and another life is depending on you for wisdom, protection and love.

Love is easy.

God gave us everything we need to give and receive love. But to understand fear in my motherhood after having boys you have to recognize that we are a black family. Imani Perry describes it as fear that comes because the preciousness [of our sons] collides with the ways of the world:

“No matter how “just so” I have tried, and often failed, to make things, I have known from the very first day of each of your lives that I cannot guarantee your safety. That is the thing that the voyers want to drink in. That is why they make me so mad, really. Because the truth is it is frightening. But the fear is not the heart of the thing. The fear is what comes because your preciousness collides with the ways of the world. And then there is the battle against it, that all of us are forced to wage, because as Wole Soyinka said, “Let us simply observe that the assault on human dignity is one of the prime goals of the visitation of fear, a prelude to the domination of the mind and the triumph of power.” So, like many others, I try to unravel the fear. And confront the rest.”
Imani Perry- Breathe: A Letter to My Sons

While I have not experienced the overt, blocking, near death side of racism, I have experienced casual racism. The racism where people make comments about my blackness that make me question who I am, what I like, how I sound and how appealing it would be to date me because it’s a box to check. While those things I have had to process and learn to speak up for myself and speak out for those with the same experience nothing can prepare you for the weight that comes with raising black boys in a world that has shown you that they go from cute to a threat sooner than you have time to prepare.

People think racism just appears in adulthood out of nowhere like a pimple. But it starts in childhood. It’s something taught and something learned in those years of early development. It starts with telling our kids to be silent in the face of the mistreatment of others, that their voices can’t change policies and to use terminology such as threat and being attacked that speak to those same ideologies when neither are present.

My boys are a gift, a blessing, a reflection of Gods beauty and His loving kindness. They love people, they see joy even when it’s hard to see as an adult and they radiate His light. I understand more and more why they were placed in this moment in time for those around them and especially for me. They reflect back to me His grace and how to lead from the heart. But the truth is I couldn’t wait until an opportune time to talk about racism. I wish I could’ve waited until he was much older. Instead I had to talk about it in Kindergarten and every year since because we can’t afford to live in a bubble of comfort and silence. While they are the best things that have ever happened to me, that is the weight of the call on our lives as black mothers raising black boys in America and it’s most powerful job I’ve ever received.

Black Motherhood: The Most Powerful Calling