Stories from a Momma Bear #6

My sons now are men
They are finding their way
We've done our best to prepare them
But I still remember the day

That the FIRST call came (it would come again)
They were just wee little ones
But still with contempt she said
'Your sons keep on fighting
Get them to stop if  you would.'

So we sat down to talk
Make wise choices-walk away
But that's quite hard to do
Being called n***a every day.

Have you told a teacher?
have you let them know?
You might hope they hadn't
But we knew that they had
Even at 5 and 6 they'd been taught their worth
They'd already been called that word...
More than they should.

The problem becomes
Not just that it's said
but that when it's known
Nothing is done.

Thus began a regular fight
Here come the Pitchford's
I'm gonna need you to get right.
Not just the boys
but Daddy and Momma Bear too.
Just so you know we aren't taking your shit
Soooo

They aren't going to be suspended
And they aren't staying in
Unless you begin

To handle this hate
To deal with the truth
That using that word
Carries some weight
And if you say it enough
You might not be safe.

And the ugly truth
Is there's still much to teach
Because you can't stop that word
It just flows from some people

But as a parent you can demand
That they listen
They watch
And then they act
Because yes there's great teachers
But there are also
Those who deep down inside
Might be saying that word
They just know to hide
The hate that they feel
Or might not even  know
They carry it around
And sometimes let show.

So it's always our job
While they are still in our care
To teach and to guide them
But remember that
We can't always protect
Those wee little ones especially
As they begin to leave our sight
As they grow and become

Young women and men
Then adults on their own
And that word
Still there
Continues to flow

So while I'm teaching mine to
Walk away-take a breath
And to remember that they are often
being watched and often
Won't get the benefit of the doubt
I need you to teach yours
To keep that word out their mouth

Arizonas, Hoodies and Skittles.

'If I had a son...'

President Barack Obama took 2 minutes to answer a question about his thoughts on the Trayvon Martin case in March 2012.

And all the white people lost their shit.


Even white people you thought wouldn't. I've never unfriended and been unfriended on social media by so many people before or since.


Conservative media, news sources and all the 'jump on the bandwagon' folks tried to say:

that he bought Arizona and skittles because he was going to make 'lean'.
that he was a thug (aka n---a) because he posted a picture flipping the bird and wearing a grill.
that he was a delinquent because he had been suspended for having some marijuana.
that his hoodie was as much to blame as George Zimmerman's gun.
that there were no issues in Sanford.

It was not uncommon for me to have arguments that I had to step away from because of the justification for reasons he was killed:

about how it was dark and rainy and he had his hands in his pockets.
about how he looked older than 17.
about how he should have just stopped and spoke to George Zimmerman.
about how he didn't live there-he was only visiting.
about how it was raining.

For those that don't remember...or whose privilege allowed them to have their head in the sand...the national uproar came initially because of how long it took them to arrest George Zimmerman.

Trayvon was killed on February 26th, 2012.
The arrest did not come until April 11th, 2012.

I worked with pretty much all conservative white people at the time. I did not have the same point of view as many of my co-workers. And I remember as I would post articles or newsclips....as I would lament for Trayvon's family....as I would try to have conversations about my feelings...a very common response was that....

this wouldn't happen to your kids...
you have good kids....
there's obviously more to the story....
you weren't there....

But

It definitely could...
That doesn't matter...
There might not be...
I didn't need to be to believe....


And I grew tired. Tired of having the same old conversation.  Tired of being reminded of how extreme the gap was that existed. Tired of having to explain.

It was the start of my decision that I no longer cared to try and reach people with racist ideology by trying to 'meet them halfway' by trying to 'understand their point of view' by trying to explain for the 100th time why I felt the way I did and so I wasn't going to try to.  I'm not saying I won't speak up if I see and hear racist shit...I'm not saying I might not tell you about yourself....but you can't say something like 'White people are oppressed' and then have a conversation with me.

I don't know if this is right or wrong.
I just know it is what is for me.

Sitting down to dialogue with someone who is realizing that inequity is real or who has questions about my experience as a wife to a black man and mother to black sons in this day and age is one thing.  I hope that when I share my heart...it makes people stop and think.  I hope it leads to asking questions. I love having those conversations.

but I have no desire to debate that which is my experience...my husband's experience...my son's experience....with someone who

'has a black co worker'
'slept with a black guy once'
'has a black friend'
'read an article about racism'

or just

'wishes we wouldn't make it about color'
'doesn't see color'
'would rather focus on the good stuff''
'thinks I'm exaggerating'

I am a sociology major partly because I wanted to get out of school quickly and didn't want to wait for the classes needed to be a social work major.  But also?  Because I love people. I love humanity. I love what makes a community tick and what makes it break down.  I love discovering patterns of society, how social norms influence growth and how social factors affect us (like race, age, gender, etc.)  This has always driven me. And likely will continue to.

I remember that day. Hearing about and then reading about Trayvon Martin.  Seeing my own sons...who often wore hoodies....who drank Arizon's....who sometimes walked home.

And I wept.

Because I do have a son.
And he could be Trayvon.
And George Zimmerman's lurk everywhere.