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Thoughts on Raising Young Men

I love my sons. I think they’re handsome, kind, worthy, love-able, outspoken, gracious and most importantly filled with promise. Our home is filled with joy, thoughtfulness and a mom that will protect them at all costs. While our home is a place of harmony, I know the outside world is not. As an adult who has experienced life through mature eyes, I have internal struggles no one sees.

When they leave home, the world does not see them or care for them as I do. Many questions pop in and out of my head daily.

What do I do when the world starts to break their spirit? Or when a person accuses them of something because of the way they look? How about when an older woman walks past them and clutches her purse? Or when they walk into a store and the security guard gives them a “look”? The worst that has come up has been when my youngest son told his teacher he wanted to be a Paleontologist and her response was to tell him that it may be out of reach.

How do I prepare young men for a world that does not love them back and never will? How do I protect that spirit, encourage self-love respect and honor when they won’t always receive it in the world? How do I tell them to turn the other cheek, when I know they are tired? How do I prepare my Black sons for a world that does not love them? A world that sees them as dangerous and a threat before they are even born.

How can I not be angry? Pissed? Fed up?

How can I scream, when I know I won’t be heard?

How do I?

Admittedly, I may be jaded. I grew up in a city in Northwest Ohio, where the population was less than 20% Black. I went to a predominately White Catholic high school where we went to class together but sat at different lunch tables. I knew the world was a bit racist and unfair but in Ohio, it was very covert. Situations occurred such as being asked if I had ADHD when I talked too much in class, my childhood best friend making jokes about my hair and my love for fresh prince, because we “all” were the same. Neighbors children circling me on their bikes, calling me names and throwing sand in my hair. I asked my mom why they did it and she couldn’t give me an answer. She just washed my hair and sent me back out to play.

When I moved to Alabama it was a bit of a culture shock, I moved from my totally white world to a mostly black one. Everything was different, the people you see in the streets, the amount of educated Blacks, People of Color in leadership positions and living in beautiful huge homes. I was in a world where I was accepted and didn’t feel the harshness or worry, I once had.

I didn’t think I was the angry black woman, but internally maybe I was. A woman who dealt with the harshness of the world internally building up as resentment. I worry I’ll subject my kids to my fears, hidden biases and anguish. I feared in my preparation I would diminish the light they had. My concern is through my worry I will raise young men who are overprepared, question authority and think every white person they encounter is the enemy. I would toggle between teaching them peace and love, to fear and anxiety.

Being a parent is the biggest most important job you can do. Daily I question am I doing it right?

After I sort through all these emotions of worry, fear and anguish I find a possible solution – I prepare my sons by talking to them. Asking about their day. Asking what they want to be when they get older. Did they do something nice for someone? What was the best part of their day? I ask them what their friends’ names are. Favorite movie? And can they locate Madagascar on the map?

I also ask questions such as do they know how to act when a police officer approaches them and ensure they know all whites aren’t racist. I educate them on different countries, I scold them when they don’t say yes ma’am or open the door for a woman. I pray with them at night and ensure I tell them I love them at the end of the day. I do all these things to try to prepare them for the world and assure them even though the world is scary it is nothing to fear.

Often when we are out, I watch them and how they interact with others.

I know they are still filled with wonder and believe most people are good. I am careful not to tarnish their perception, because the world needs people with unbiased eyes. As a parent I hover close enough to hear, but far enough to observe their behavior and the ones around them. Some people walk closer I believe to ensure my children are not a threat, others smile and ask about their dyed blond mohawks. I sit back quietly almost like a cheetah, watching for any harm to pounce when necessary, but allowing them to navigate the world on their own.

With all these thoughts running in my head one thing stays true. I will pray for guidance. If I feel there is a problem in the world, I need to be a catalyst for change and allow my sons to BE the change. Treat people the way you want to be treated, respect others, be kind, gentle and educate those who don’t know you. Always leave people better than you met them. Always embody integrity, help others and love those who hate. I hope and believe if I teach these things, while praying they can be a small piece of a change that can become a butterfly ripple effect for the world.T

Author: Tamara Rogers

Tamara is a mother of 3, dreamer and future world traveler! 



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