Surviving Summer 2020 as a Black Mother
Summer 2020 was tough.
I have been hesitant to write a blog post for the last 5 months, but I’m ready to get back to it.
I missed blogging, but the way black trauma is set up in America, I didn’t feel like I could. Summer for me as a black person has been an emotional teeter totter, on one side I am angry about the treatment of black life in the U.S., and on the other side I am committed to purposefully celebrating and supporting black life, while living my own best black life.
When I wrote my last post in April, I was mostly focused on Covid-19 life in this mini ‘Quarantined with Babies’ series: Week 1, week 2., and week 3 Then May happened, and boy did the racism and total disregard for black lives just take right on off from there.
It was at this point, I realized that there was no way possible that I could write on this blog without addressing the very public issues that directly affect MY black life and my motherhood experience.
Truthfully, I was maybe a little too nervous about who I may offend. For the past couple of years, I’ve only dove into black issues in my February Black History month posts, talking about colorism, raising multicultural children, being the awkward black girl at work, highlighting black women who work out. But let’s be honest, those black topics are pretty lighthearted in comparison to black death. It has become crystal clear that I cannot limit blogging about black issues to February. We are black every day, and it affects our lives all of the time.
“It has become crystal clear that I cannot limit blogging about black issues to February. We are black every day, and it affects our lives all of the time. ”
I implement a certain level of self-censorship for my own safety, and for the interests of my family. For the most part, I like to keep the conversation light and non-controversial. I generally choose not to talk about politics, religion, and my marriage specifically. I also, as a blogger and content creator, try to be very consistent with my brand. You know, the hardworking mother who remains her own person, pursues her career, travels, and works out. This is not a social justice blog, but I had to come to the conclusion that I have a social responsibility to support and protect the community that I come from.
I have a platform. I have a voice, and I intend to use it.
Today I’m breaking my own rules.
Black Issues I Must Address
Police Brutality
Police brutality is a problem that disproportionately affects black people. Police brutality is supported by a system that is rooted in the oppression of people who come in various shades of non-white. For some reason, people skip over the “disproportionately” part. We’ve studied ratios and proportions in math, we’ve studied probability in statistics, yet when “disproportionate” is used to describe police violence against black folk, people regress into kindergartners and reply “All Lives Matter.”
Let’s just put it simply, basic definition, pure semantics: Police are killing way more black people (at alarming rates) than they’re killing white people, which is also compounded by the fact that black people make up about only 13% of the U.S. population. This is not politics. This is not religion. This is fact. At some point, we have to recognize that racism is still alive and well, even within the glorified law enforcement of the United Sates. It’s leaving households broken, children without parents, creating fear amongst black people when we leave our homes, and further dividing a country (that never really was united).
We are angry, and we are hurt. Black people are routinely being denied human rights. Why is it so difficult to stop killing people? We are tired of asking that police officers be held accountable for murder and excessive force. You cannot hold any institution in such high regard that you fail to acknowledge its wrongdoing, especially when people are literally dying in the streets,
No Justice, at least never enough of it
Black people are constantly denied justice when our loved ones are violently assaulted and murdered. Call it murder. When you take lethal weapons, and use them against people and kill them, it is murder. When you cut off oxygen flow to the brain, choke people, and suffocate them, it is murder. There is no humanity when it comes to our lives. Since forever, black life has been continuously vilified to the point that the devaluing of our lives has become the norm in this supposed Land of the Free. You can have your 4th of July.
We say “Black Lives Matter,” because it’s repeatedly proven that black life doesn’t matter every time a DA fails to prosecute racists who’ve killed black people, and every time murderous police offers are demoted or suspended with pay while a black family grieves, and every time a grand jury fails to indict trigger happy cops who’ve killed black children.
The cherry on top? Trump, an unqualified president, who only further emboldens racists, and will literally give an order during a national debate, telling the proud boys to “stand back, and standby,” when asked to denounce white supremacy. There’s no justice for us with unjust “leaders” in office. It’s really not a matter of politics for some of us. It’s a matter of life or death.
Please vote in November.
Poor public response to PAIN
We peacefully protest, and people tell us what we SHOULD be protesting. There’s always a tactic to divert attention from racism, because nobody likes to talk about it. Listen, black people have been experiencing racial prejudice and discrimination in every aspect of their lives, for all of their lives. It may be an uncomfortable conversation for you, but it’s an even more uncomfortable REALITY for us.
“It may be an uncomfortable conversation for you, but it’s an even more uncomfortable REALITY for us. ”
They throw this overused, divisionary and misused phrase “black on black violence.” at us. Firstly, most violence occurs between people of the same race within their communities, so please stop wrongly implying that intraracial violence is unique to black communities. This phrase also assumes that race is at the core of violence in black communities – grandly and purposely ignoring the many variables that affect crime, such as poverty, the lack of job opportunities, the criminalization of everything that poor people do to survive, and a host of other things. The phrase also seems to suggest that because some black people do bad things, our humanity should be sacrificed. And the answer is: Absolutely not.
We are told that as black people, we should care more about the crime committed by black people in our communities, rather than be enraged by black bodies being slain in the streets by police offers who took oaths to never betray the public trust. Newsflash, it’s not so much that we hate the police, but we don’t trust them, because we do not feel safe. It’s to the point that many black people avoid calling the police for help, because when we call for help, someone may unnecessarily end up dead. Also, who said that we don’t care about the violence in our communities? There are SO many issues going on in this world for us to be enraged about. You don’t get to tell us which one we can scream the loudest about.
We peacefully protest, they don’t hear us. We scream, and we’re still unheard. We riot, and then we’re told that “violence is never the answer.”
So what is the fucking answer?
Black Motherhood
I love my black babies. They are my world and my joy. They’re beautiful in all of their ways. The brown skin, the textured hair, the full lips. My Ugandan babies. They are a special piece of Africa, that will always be a part of me. I look at them, and I hope that every day they will have something to smile about. I want to give them the best life that I can give.
Sometimes it’s confusing as to what exactly is the best life for a black child. Do I let my children be their full selves, or teach them to suppress certain parts of their blackness to (maybe) ensure their safety and success in the future? How do I handle conversations about racism? What do I say when they finally (if not already) encounter someone who treats them differently because they’re black?
I see my children, my mouthy but smart daughter who has the most extensive vocabulary for a 5 year old, and my rambunctious but charmingly persistent son, who will climb and fall until he falls no more. I worry about how they will be perceived in the world. When you’re black, your skin tends to show before your qualities do. Being black is the first impression. It is your descriptor. You are your best friend’s black friend. You are the smartest black kid in your class. You are the black girl in the office. You are always black before you are anything else. Not my rules, but society’s.
Worry
I worry about my children, because I know that my children will experience racial bias early on and well throughout life, and when it comes to that, mommy can only do so much. Our children are often seen as problematic, and their punishments tend to be harsher than those handed out to their white friends. This isn’t an assumption, again, this is fact. And you know what, it is more than okay to just admit that you don’t know these things, because most of us don’t do our research on matters that don’t pertain to us directly. Ignorance is a privilege to some.
I have to think about how to answer my child’s questions when they face overt racism. Is it worth calling out racism when you experience it – especially when it’s hard to prove? How do you navigate your children making friends with white children whose parents don’t like black people?
I’m not creating scenarios out of nowhere. I know, because I’ve been a black child.
I grew up very naïve about systemic racism in America. Often times, I tried to excuse certain experiences as one-off encounters. In first grade I bought my white friend a black Barbie doll to her birthday party, and it upset her mother so much that the doll was returned to us – something about the doll being too sexy, but everyone knew the real reason. We didn’t remain friends for too long.
I remember taking classes at Eastman School of Music, walking into the building in a group of white students, but it was me who was singled out and asked to show ID to prove that I belonged at the institution. I guess it wasn’t common for a black girl, wearing baby phat to be taking private lessons at such a renowned music school.
That’s just the light stuff. Stuff that many black people have become accustomed to shrugging off.
I think about how just weeks after my son was born, my husband and I had a very lengthy conversation about not buying hoodies for our son.
My husband, one of the most fearless people I know told me that he doesn’t want his son to grow up accustomed to wearing clothes that could bring harm to him once he’s older, especially in this lovely white suburb we decided to settle into. It makes me sad that we have to even think about those types of things, because once again, race and the disregard for black life in this country controls how we navigate our lives. We all know the risks a big black boy faces when he walks around a quiet white neighborhood and someone calls the police because he looks “suspicious.”
Why at 30 years old do I even have to think about the possibility of outliving my one year old son?
Summer 2020
May.
It was just a couple of days after my son’s first birthday that the February killing of Ahmaud Arbery by white Georgia residents surfaced online.
Weeks later, George Floyd is detained by police for using a counterfeit $20 bill? Is that what it was, who cares? Multiple cops on top of him, and one kneeling on his NECK, for close to 8 minutes, crying for his mother. He dies.
We learn about Breonna Taylor, young black woman, close to my age, shot to death while sleeping in her bed by police during a botched raid.
This is just May.
June.
Skip ahead to June, Rayshard Brooks is shot to death by police in a Wendy’s parking lot.
July.
Did they skip July, or has a video just not surfaced yet? Were the body cams conveniently shut off?
August.
Fast forward to August, Jacob Blake is shot in his back 7 times, in front of his children, by police – but it’s cool this time since he didn’t die, right? Just paralyzed, and then handcuffed to his hospital bed.
September
September rolls around, and my hometown had to join the party, a video from February is released of RPD taking the life of Daniel Prude.
tired.
I think about all of these Summer 2020 killings. But really, this has been my entire 30 years of living: Rodney King, Latasha Harlins, Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Sandra Bland, Philandro Castile, Atatiana Jefferson, Aura Rosser, Stephon Clark, Elijah McClain, Botham Jean, Alton Sterling, Michelle Cusseaux, Freddie Gray, Walter Scott, and the list just goes on and on. This is not 2020. This is America.
“This is not 2020. This is America.”
Survival and Surviving
Heavy to read, and heavy to write. Thanks for bearing with me.
Summer 2020 has been one of self-discovery. Summer 2020 has been more than just dealing with racism in America and the pandemic of course, but also my own personal issues that I’ve needed to sort through.
Through seeing so much black death, I’ve committed myself to living and pursuing a prosperous black life for me and my family.
I am dipping my feet in new ventures and connecting with other sisters so that we can build each other up, and create spaces that encourage others in our community
I’m investing in my marriage and my household, and giving black love and family the chance that it deserves. I am enjoying my children, and relishing in all of the cuddles and hugs, and making family time a priority.
I enjoyed nature. I bought new swimsuits and went swimming. I visited so many lakes this summer. I learned how to paddleboard. Because of quarantine, I learned new ways to take care of my body, and picked up outdoor running. Running has been life changing. It is freeing, and it allows me to go to a mental place that I just can’t go inside of a gym.
I am unapologetically pursuing my passions and developing my talents. Earlier this year I was hired as Liturgical Music Director at a local church, and I am taking my musicianship seriously – practicing piano often, and not being afraid to take on new challenges.
I started a wine page because I love wine as an art, a science, and as a way to bring people together. I want to contribute to the wine industry in my future. You know me, I never stay still.
I am supporting black businesses, buying black, and investing in black
One thing about being a mother, at least in my experience, is that you don’t really get to just check out for a day all haphazardly, so I intentionally make more time for myself
I am focusing on me, and less on others
I am speaking up for myself, and not letting intimidation get in the way of having the life that I wish to have me and my family
I am doing my best to thrive through the hurts of life, in hopes that I can be an inspiration to someone who is losing hope
And yes, somehow with all that I have going on, I am resting and learning to choose peace over confusion.
I resolved my fear of speaking publicly about racism on my platform, and that in itself is my form of activism and survival. If I can be a voice for my community in my own way, I will. Now is not the time to be silent about black life. At least not for me.