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My Son.

This is my son. My beautiful son. My beautiful black son. It has been implicitly and explicitly stated to me, that R, because he has white parents, will not “get into trouble”, “won’t be raised that way”, that he is a “lucky” boy, that he “won’t end up in those types of situations”. All too often in R's 16 months on this planet people have tried to make Rory “more white” because of Ethan and I. People continue to try to take his Blackness away. This is racism. I continue to dare to respond. These comments somehow imply that 1) we want to take away his blackness, and 2) that we are able to. Yes, R will have certain privileges that other black children do not b/c of the color of his parents skin. That shouldn’t be. That is a problem. That is an aspect of structural racism.

We cannot whitewash our son. Nor do we want to. Although in this country, if it would keep him safe, don’t think I haven’t, for a moment, wished it to be true. What a horrendous wish to have.

My son is Black. There will come time sooner than I can believe that he will be out in this world on his own. The fact remains that R is far more likely to be shot by a police officer, and/or be incarcerated for the same offense than my white friend’s’ sons and his white male cousins. I’m not quite sure where I fit in this conversation as a white mama with a black son- but I know exactly where my boy fits, where all black boys fit.

I am not looking for sympathy. As always I am asking myself and all of us to love, to educate, and to take action.


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