The Mother of an African American Son

With the whole divide, anger, and just overall emotions swarming the Trayvon Martin Case, I have remained silent and a bit of a recluse if you will. Why? Truthfully, I don't like engaging in conversation that is divisive. I hate rhetoric that doesn't lead to solutions or in this case rhetoric that will lead to further division. I honestly have very mixed emotions about the race issues in this country; emotions that in moments such as the Trayvon Martin incident only become more confused and muddled. I usually shrug my shoulders and continue in the thought that the best way for me to fight these types of racial issues is to continue to be the best person that I can be and to embrace all God's people with love and compassion. I still stand by that but today as I listen more and more to the language and the thoughts and beliefs of people surrounding this case, I find myself thinking about my almost two year old son.

I must say I have been angered and saddened by the fact that our nation can't hear past some of the noise in this case and connect with the fact that one a young man died and two he did so because of the actions of someone else. I can't understand for the life of me why it's ok to say that George Zimmerman overacted or was maybe too ambitious but it's not his fault that a young boy is dead. I would hate to think that one day something I do, even if it is well intentioned, leads to the death of an innocent person. I also can't understand why George Zimmerman has the right to defend himself if threatened or attacked but Trayvon Martin doesn't have the same right. It pains me to hear people refer to Trayvon Martin as a thug. When I hear the word thug I think of someone in a gang, a drug dealer, a menace to society, someone that has a criminal record. None of these things were true of Tryavon Martin so why is he a thug? It disorients me to hear that George Zimmerman was a racist. I don't believe this to be true either. I do believe that he racially profiled Trayvon Martin but I believe he did so because according to what he understood there were young black men allegedly breaking into homes in his neighborhood. I do also believe prejudice played a part but not racism. These two things are very different to me; prejudice and racism. I believe the jurors had some prejudices. To hear the juror say that Ms. Jaentel wasn't creditable because of poor communication skills and poor education is sad to me. Does this mean an autistic child isn't creditable? A known charlatan, liar, or thief isn't creditable. Someone with a poor education can be very creditable to me.

These things trouble me deeply because I have an African American son. It hurts me deeply to think that I will one day have to explain to him that he will be judged not because of the content of his character or because of his actions but because of the color of his skin. Let's be even deeper, because of the amount of melanin in his skin. It pains me deeply to think that my son could be innocently walking home one day, make the mistake that a lot of children make and cut through a backyard (the kids in my neighborhood cut through mine all the time since the bus lets off right behind my house), be viewed as suspicious, feel threatened so he attacks his attacker first (if this is how you believe it happened), begins to win the fight against his attacker, and then end up dead on a sidewalk. I can't describe to you how my hand is shaking as I type and my heart is racing. But what frightens me even more is that the community of people that I work so hard to connect with, will not be able to see past the race and how they feel about which stories receive media attention, and how black people kill black people every day but want to holler the race card in any other incident. They can't see past this to connect to the human tragedy of the story then work together to make sure that something doesn't happen like this ever again-for both the Trayvons and Zimmermans sake. None of us really know what happened. We are all trying to piece together the evidence and let's be honest we will all do so from different perspectives. Why? Because we will each relate to a part of the story and the evidence based on our own experiences. That's why the verdict isn't what angers me. What anger me are my peers and the language I've heard from EVERYONE-white, black, grey, yellow, tan-surrounding this tragedy.

I want to be able to tell my son that the world can be a scary place but the people in it are working every day to change. I want to tell my son that as long as he does what is right he will always win. I want to tell him that he can trust his fellow man. I want to say these things to him and they be true. More importantly I just want to be the mother of a son. But it's times like this that I realize the world in which I live won't let me remove that descriptor African American. Why? Because it can't seem to stop making race an issue.

Airplanes and Toddlers

At the Airport About to Check-in

As we prepared for our trip to Colombia, the Husband and I have had nightmares about how we will manage a long travel day with the 18 month old cub. We immediately started securing everything possible that we thought my placate him throughout the day or hold his attention for a spell. I got over "being that parent" quite some time ago. You know "that parent". It´s the parent that all other non parents look at with shrewd eyes and judge and question why they can´t control their child. Early on I spent too much of my precious time trying not to be "that parent". Then it hit me one day; parenting is difficult enough without me trying to please people that honestly don´t matter. When it comes to parenting the only beings that I need to please are God, my children, and my husband. Now, I could care less about being "that parent". So yes that was me at Babies R Us the other day thumbing through swim wear while my son ran up and down the aisle singing and saying hello to everyone that passed by. Yes that was me at the Walmart who continued to check the label on a pack of snacks ignoring her son while he threw himself to floor, kicked, and screamed. I ignore this behaviour, so should you.This brings me to all the preparation for the travel plans. We packed everything possible that would help us prevent any tantrums. The reason being tantrums are downright draining. Travelling is draining enough; add hours of toddler tantrums and you have officially entered the sixth circle of hell. Needless to say we came with an arsenal of things prepared to entertain and calm our son.

We left our house at 6:30 am to go to the airport. This is an hour earlier that my son is accustomed to getting out of bed. I was prepared though for....nothing. He wasn´t cranky or irritable. Next was the long line to check-in. My son hates being held when there is an opportunity for him to chart new grounds and explore new surroundings. Still nothing. He patiently stayed in our arms and we successfully checked in all our bags. By now I´m thinking it´s just early. He will be in full mode soon. We made it through security and still no fussing, demanding to get down an run around, or tantrums when told no. We had a little wait before our plane departed so we ate breakfast and toured the wonderful Hartsfield Airport. The cub was allowed to roam around now. He had so much fun. It´s like all the airport staff, including security, were there to assist him with whatever he wanted. One security woman even flashed her lights and let the cub play with her little scooter bike ( I don´t know what those things are called). He got all the attention he could want plus extra. Now it´s time to board the plane. I´m nervous. A toddler, and my toddler at that, sit still for two hours in the same space. Oh and the ear popping thing. How do you handle that with toddlers. He sat in the lap of his uncle by the window. The plane took off and he loved it. He absolutely loved watching the plane take off and he looked out the window with great amazement. We were finally in the air with nothing but clouds to see and what does my cub do. GO TO SLEEP. He slept through the entire flight. So to all you non parents out there that looked at me with judgement and inwardly cursed the fact that you would be stuck in a confined space for two hours with a toddler shame on you. I know what you thought. I could see it in your glances as we sat at the gate and you listened as my son spoke with his outdoor voice. I saw the fear as you watched me chase him around the lounge area while he squealed with delight. You thought all this would happen on the plane too. Well shame on you! Who am I kidding....me too. I had those same thoughts and fear. So ignore the DVD player, headphones, games, music, junk food, books, toys, and Benadryl in my carry on. So sad, I was prepared to take the cub down by any means necessary. The layover and second flight into Cali, Colombia was just as amazing and smooth. He went to sleep AGAIN. The woman that had the fortune of sharing our aisle said my cub is the most tamed and wonderful child she has met. Proud mommy dance time. Who knew the cub would love to fly.