The conversations I have with my son that are foundational to our parent-child relationship happen in the car. Being on the road, free from distractions, turns our rides to practices, appointments, or school into safe spaces for us to talk, crack jokes, and listen to tunes. Recently, our banter about the week ahead led me to rethink the long-standing Black parenting wisdom – ‘work twice as hard’.
In his trademark casual tone, my son dropped a comment that gave me pause: “I don’t think I want to work as hard and as much as you and Dad.”
And I confess —this did not bring out my best self in the moment. Sometimes my mind lapses and I still feel like a novice at gentle parenting. My not-so-proud initial reaction was to instinctively giving him side-eye in my mind, thinking about those pricey Jordans he had recently asked for! Easy to talk about not wanting to work hard when the lifestyle is comfy, right?
But—despite my knee-jerk thoughts, a calmer mind prevailed. Because yeah, I get it.
From his perspective, he perceived much of our lives as sacrifice — long hours, an Amistad-esque work culture, and interrupted family time. So, shushing the Jordan thoughts from my mind, as we approached an exit ramp, I asked him to tell me more.
His answer remained calm, casually profound and determined.
“It seems like no matter the work we put in; we still face all the same issues. People expect less and more at the same time. So, I just want to spend time how I want. With the dog, or my kids, or just whatever.”
Whew.
I grappled with his insight while stuck at a red light on an off-ramp, searching for a good response.
Even in my fully developed frontal cortex, exceptionalism – or the math of “work twice as hard to get half as far” – isn’t mathing.
It would have been easy to just go with my first instinct and blurt out the old mantra repeated by generations of Black parents: “People who look like us have to work twice as hard to get half as far.” I mean, this had been told to me in countless ways my entire life.
But something in his expression and my heart gave me pause. This time his trademark teenage skepticism seemed totally justified.
I had also figured out where some of this might be coming from. Social Media and news outlets had been flooded with the story of Harvard University’s first Black president, Claudine Gay’s resignation. It is a complicated story. Accused of plagiarism by conservative right-wing individuals who never wanted someone like her in the role, Ms. Gay faced more than professional criticism. She received an alarming wave of hate including racist rants and death threats seemingly reserved for Black women.
To my son’s point, it seemed as though no amount of expertise, hard work, sacrifice, or exceptionalism had shielded her from those whose disproval of her had nothing to do with allegations of plagiarism.
Even in my fully developed frontal cortex, the Black people math of “working twice as hard to get half as far” wasn’t mathing. I could see why it didn’t make sense to my son. In this case, exceptionalism, a tool that has been in the Black parent arsenal for generations, wasn’t working as intended.
And it wasn’t just about Ms. Gay.
Exceptionalism has been a tool in the Black parent toolkit for generations. The thing we think will ultimately protect us from the harms of the world. But like, I’m not sure how “working twice as hard” is working for us.
My own parents indoctrinated me into the cult-like belief that people who look like us have to “work twice as hard to get half as far”. Rightly or wrongly, as I raise my Black children I understand that this ode to exceptionalism was my parents’ way of protecting us.
Exceptionalism is supposed to equip Black families by warding off the boogie man of poverty, joblessness and anti-Black racism. Achievements – financial, academic, and professional are supposed to help us prove our worth, and prove that we can do the things that society has programmed many to believe we can not. I had never questioned working twice as hard.
I mean, truthfully, I did not have time to question it.
Working since I was 15, I saved like an old miser. First generation Canadians, with no family connections to start our careers or any hope of an inheritance or family money to help give us any kind of leap start to our lives, my husband and I grinded to pay our way through school and then to buy our first house.
We worked hard and yes, I’m proud to say we have a lovely home. So lovely in fact that I remember once, as we shared renovation photos with a colleague, he commented that he was amazed at how nice my home was. He then had the caucastity to admit (out loud) that he had wondered if my husband was a “drug dealer or something?”.
Wait. What?
My son’s comment shone a light on the most important aspect of Ms. Gay’s situation for me. In the real world, working hard and getting the rewards isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Some folks will never believe we earned or deserve our success.
Conversations at my Black family dinner table tend to balance optimism for the future with honouring the realities of the present.
In school, working twice as hard did not stop me from almost being streamed below my potential. While we are waiting for woke minds to prevail, working twice as hard hasn’t prevented expulsion rates that are four times higher for Black boys than for white children. Nor does it improve the abysmally low rate at which Black students are recommended to gifted programs.
As an adult, working twice as hard didn’t protect me from colleagues who casually assumed criminality to be at the root of my success. Nor did it protect me from the toxic work environment where others constantly questioned my promotions.
And it’s not just me.
New research seen in StatsCan suggests that hard work literally doesn’t pay; Canada’s Black population only earns $0.76 for every dollar earned by their white counterparts, even with similar educational attainment. There is a huge earning gap.
Despite the Canadian-born Black population aged 25 to 54 having similar educational attainment (29% with a bachelor’s degree or higher) to the Canadian-born non-racialized population (28%), they earn only $0.76 cents for every dollar earned by the latter. Education and earnings of Canadian-born Black populations (statcan.gc.ca)
Exceptionalism was a concept intended to protect Black folks. But like, I’m not sure how that’s working for us. I do not think young people are buying it. Nor do I really want my son to be doomed to repeat my exhausting footsteps and work twice as hard.
One of my everyday worries is figuring out how to balance my children’s needs – for optimism against the feeling that I have to prepare them to work and achieve within a society that is not ready for their success. Exceptionalism does nothing to dismantle the systemic barriers meant to keep us from succeeding. Exceptionalism doesn’t prove anything other than successful Black folks are “the exception” to some unwritten rule that defines us as less.
Instinctively I felt like I needed to repeat the myth of “exceptionalism” and tell my son to “work twice as hard” – but the truth is I want nothing more than for that not to be true.
I increasingly understand my son’s resistance to the grind and hustle culture that exhausted me. In that moment of reflection, And sighed as I realized my true wishes for my children.
I wish for them to know the joy of being rewarded for mediocrity – I would love my kids to bask in the safe space of nepotism. To hold healthy boundaries between work and home.
I wish they would be seen as having potential instead of having to develop a back-breaking work ethic in response to a perceived deficit. I wish we could tailor mediocrity into a multi-billion dollar empire, getting twice the flowers as other people who have twice the talent. Unfortunately that’s not the way the world works right now.
I know this much is true, our ancestors didn’t dream of us in perpetual exhaustion. They didn’t want us to live their wildest dreams by playing a game built for us to lose. I don’t want that for my children.
Plus, the reward for exhaustion – exceptionalism – is a fickle beast. It cannot protect you from those who cast doubt on your competence. Those who are willing to campaign to make you seem less capable.
I know that no amount of achievement will make your success matter in a world that doesn’t think people like you deserve it.
I wish we could tailor mediocrity into a multi-billion dollar empire, getting twice the flowers as other people who have twice the talent.
But like for now, that’s just not the world we live in.
Exceptionalism isn’t the shield we would like to think it is.
So after my pause, by the time we were ready to proceed through the intersection, I was ready to respond.
“My parents always told me to work twice as hard bud, because they thought it would protect me. And we have built a good life. But you’re right, success and hard work won’t outrun the issues in the world. What I can tell you is this. I was never working to get approval. I do what I want.
Work hard for yourself, a sense of achievement and for your family. People might throw stones. Pick them up and build an empire. Work to leave the world a better place than you found it. Help build a world that deserves you. Oh and where you can put Mama in a good home! Just like my path was easier thanks to those who came before me, I hope your path is lighter than ours. And yeah, I hope you never have to work like we have.”
My son was relatively satisfied with my pop-up inspirational rant, but admittedly, this has still been on my mind. As is often the case with the issues faced, I am not sure this amounted to successful Black parenting wisdom. I don’t know the answer. I know why Black mothers and fathers tell our kids to work twice as hard. And I know our concerns for the future of our Black kids are still valid. What I don’t know is how I feel about this for my own children. Is exceptionalism our shield or our shackles?
In love and contemplation.
