Yesterday was rough for a few reasons. Obviously I am still in mourning; not just the loss of Booka, but the end of a wonderful chapter in my life. But there is more. The endless murder of black people by those who are sworn to protect and serve weighs heavily on me. The story of George Floyd broke my heart. Shaun and I had a tearful conversation last night - not only as parents of mixed-race children but as two human beings who feel helpless to fix the systemic racism that permeates America.
I don't usually feel the need to talk about these things because I (possibly incorrectly) assumed that anyone who knows me knows where I stand (and I kind of thought I'd be preaching to the choir, anyway). I tend to lean more towards letting my actions speak louder than my words; I've never been one to just vent anger without searching for solutions or actively trying to help. The way I see it is that if you don't like something, work to change it or shut the hell up. I like to see things improve and that does not happen with empty words and no action.
Story time:
When I was in high school I was in drumline. The section leaders were two black guys. I freaking ADORED them. They were great drummers, funny guys, and made band my favorite part of the day. Even after we'd done our lessons and had free time in the class the whole drumline would sit together in the back of the room and work on cadences or improvise songs together. One that I will never forget is "Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid. 😂😂😂 Needless to say - when I came home from school I would talk about band nonstop. It got to the point where my dad was suspicious that I liked these guys as more than friends. Mom had a talk with me and I started being more guarded with what I talked about because I didn't want to risk being pulled out of band.
At some point in high school I had my first serious boyfriend. He was Puerto Rican. I did get racist comments from classmates, but somehow my family was more ok with him because he wasn't black (not that anyone was thrilled he wasn't white). I cared a lot for this guy. I loved his family. This was my first exposure to anyone who wasn't black or white and I thoroughly enjoyed my time spent with him and his family. Like most teenage relationships it eventually ended but I have a lot of good memories from that time in my life.
Later on I met the guy who is the father of my child. For those who don't know - he's black. If I thought the racism I experienced while with a Puerto Rican guy was bad then I had no idea what was to come. I've been called all kinds of slurs. I've been told that black people are an entirely different species. I had one old white lady repeatedly beg to buy my unborn child because "our lives would be hard because he's black." Hearing the racist things that have happened to my child over the years has torn my heart to pieces. So while I'm day-glow white I do have some small idea what racism feels like.
What I also know is that I have privilege due to my skin color. If you are white or can pass as white then you have it, too. Here's a story my mom used to tell me of a city she visited back in the 70s. Whites and blacks had to shop on opposite sides of the streets in this backwards place that hadn't fully accepted integration. She, being an open-minded rebel, would sometimes shop on the black side of the street. She got a lot of looks, but that was all. So finally one day I asked her what would happen if a black person had tried to shop on the white side. She said she didn't know and I said "It probably would be worse than getting a side-eye" and she agreed. I think that was the moment privilege clicked for her.
I guess it might not be easy to see or understand your privilege if you don't actually LOVE someone who is black, but as parents of mixed kids we see it as clear as day. When Shadow was still just a tween I panicked every time he asked to walk down the street to a friend's house. Shaun and I still worry about him being pulled over - despite the talks we've had about what he should do if it happens. Shadow and Kira have experienced racism just going to Wal-Mart for groceries. Any of you parents of white kids ever have your teens come home - clearly shaken - because of some rednecks following them around and making racist comments? I doubt it.
I have written all of this to say: BLACK LIVES MATTER. They sure matter a whole hell of a lot to us. We empathize with the fear and rage that the black community experiences when another black person is killed in a situation where a white person would have survived. It is not fair and it is not ok. I agree with peaceful protests, but when the nation refuses to listen to that what choice is left but to escalate? If my child had been killed like George Floyd or any of the others who came before him - make no mistake - I'd riot, too.
I know that we as a family are not perfect at battling systemic racism, but Shaun and I try. We absolutely care. I have policed the police and will continue to do it. We point out racism and privilege when we see it. We mourn every time a situation like this happens. And we are open to suggestions for other ways we can improve.
Stay safe and love one another, friends. We MUST do better. ❤
