Note: This post is a bit different from what I usually post about, but in the spirit of me being more open here goes.
On November 10, 2011, I found out I was expecting a little boy. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit sad because I wanted a little girl, but a part of me knew it was a boy before the technician even said it. As the technician showed us our healthy baby, I braced myself for the announcement and when she zoomed in and said it’s a boy, I immediately thought to myself “what am I going to do with a penis?” I’m not necessarily the girliest of girls, but I am most certainly not a tomboy at all. So, my mind went through all the boy things I don’t know how to do. I’m not really athletic and I’m not an outdoors person. Just the idea of going camping makes me itch because of bugs. Yet I knew this would be my reality very soon. I know these are all superficial issues and don’t get me wrong I was beyond thrilled that above all else my baby appeared healthy. I also realize that despite being a self proclaimed feminist these were all gender stereotypes, but I’m being honest about my initial thoughts.
Fast forward a few months to late February/early March 2012. I found myself bombarded by the news and social media about the death of a teenage boy, Trayvon Martin, a young Black boy wearing a hoodie, who was murdered after a neighborhood watchman followed him because he thought he was “suspicious”. As the case gained steam it became clear from the 911 tapes that Trayvon Martin was singled out because of the color of his skin and the hoodie he was wearing. Having grown up in the inner city of Detroit, I’m not unfamiliar with the deaths of young Black boys (and girls) many who are innocent bystanders, so I didn’t really pay it much attention. Plus, I was in the new phases of motherhood when all you want to do is stare at your baby or sleep. Two weeks after giving birth, I happened to visit one of my younger sister’s Facebook pages and saw this picture w/ the caption “RIP Trayvon Martin”.
This picture of my nephews was taken prior to Trayvon Martin’s death, but she decided to share it with everyone to help put things in perspective. The moment I saw that picture I started paying closer attention to the case. I shared it on my FB page with this message:
My sister took this picture of my nephews before the Trayvon Martin incident, but I just saw it today and I almost broke down in tears. The fact that I live in a country with people who will one day see my nephews and my son as “troublemakers” simply because of the color of their skin hurts my heart.
Sesame wasn’t even a month old yet and I was already thinking about the future and not in a positive way. I was thinking about the conversations we will one day have to have with him about the reality of being a brown boy in America and in our case the south. As I held my barely six pound newborn, I imagined him growing up tall and stocky like his father and people averting their eyes in his presence and/or crossing the street. I thought about all the studies I’ve read of young white female teachers finding Black boys as young as 7 or 8 scary. He will only have a few more years of people commenting on him being adorable before he is seen as a threat. We only have a few more years before we have to have conversations with him about how to speak with the police if/when he’s stopped walking down the street and about 15 before we discuss being pulled over. There’s only a few more years before we have to remind him that what is considered “boys being boys” for other races will be seen as volatile and frightening in his case. We will have to remind him how to behave when hanging with his friends as a teenager and to avoid certain parts of town. If we live in a subdivision, we will have to make sure everyone knows he belongs there. Even in so-called “post-racial” America, my son will still be a suspect first and a victim second.
I’m not as worried about having to play outside or roughhouse as I was on the day they told me he was a boy. I’m now worried about the fact that I could one day be sitting in Trayvon Martin’s mother’s place. My future honor roll, college bound son could be mistaken for a “suspicious” person because of the color of his skin and a hoodie.
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