So first things first, yes, I am joyfully parenting my children. As far as Black joy can be an act of resistance, parenting my children is hella resistant.
That said, Parenting while Black, is a bit like a roller coaster. The ride has been filled with everyday ups, downs, swings, thrills, and terror.
Sometimes, I think it would have been nice to have gotten a safety talk before I got on this ride.
I’m not saying that I would have listened, but I look back and wonder if there was any advice on parenting while Black that could have had me better prepared.
Like, say back in my late 20s — as I warmly cradled other people’s babies, enthralled by that baby scent. Surely, someone could have pulled me aside and been like “Girl, I know what you’re thinking … listen here”. And that same person could have gone beyond the “sleepless nights” and poopy diapers conversation.
They could have let me in on some truths unique to our parenting journey.
Effectively raising Black children isn’t just about keeping snacks in the cupboard and wondering what the hell “new math” is. It is more than just being concerned that your kid isn’t hitting milestones or making friends at preschool.
Yes I wondered what specifically about the store’s lighting seemed to send my toddler into board straight screaming fits mid-grocery shopping – but things got real after these kids’ feet stopped smelling cute.
Sometimes, I think it would have been nice to have gotten a safety talk before I got on this ride.
I suppose it wouldn’t have changed any of my choices and nothing could dull the highs and joy of parenting. But maybe, just maybe I would have been more prepared for some of the other stuff.
The stuff no one but us gets.
So, I’m going to let you in on three Black parenting truths I wish someone had let me in on. Oh and fyi, this is by no means an exhaustive list.
Truth #1: Expecting a baby? Remember, even when you are all cute, glowing and pregnant – you are still Black.
Take the birthing classes, read the books, pack the Guinness and diapers in your hospital bag and prepare the nursery – Do all the things.
Live all the joy that is preparing to welcome life!
And prepare yourself as much as you can for the ways Black women’s experience while pregnant can be colored by our racial identity.
Women of all backgrounds report medical gaslighting, but there is an epidemic of Black and Indigenous women’s voices being dismissed. For some reason our pain is minimized and it can lead to serious outcomes.
And, little did I know before my sweet nephew came into this world 10 weeks prematurely, Black women are also almost twice as likely to have premature babies than our white counterparts.
According to the Canadian Medical Association Journal (CMAJ) research conducted by McGill University found that 8.9% of Canadian Black women gave birth to pre-term babies, compared to only 5.9% of their white peers.
Canada is slow to collect race-based data in health care but research indicates our experiences are similar to Black women in the U.S. which clearly documents disparities in our birthing outcomes.
Even the GOAT Serena Williams has written candidly about her harrowing near-death experience following the birth of her child. Ms. Williams points out that when it comes to the high death rate of Black women after giving birth, many are “considered by experts to be preventable”. One of the greatest athletes of our generation contends that in her case “being heard and appropriately treated was the difference between life or death”.
Being pregnant while Black requires extra preparation and advocacy.
Listen, this doesn’t mean all pregnant Black women should live in fear of what’s to come or that they won’t get or shouldn’t listen to sound medical advice. But we can’t ignore the reality that being pregnant while Black presents unique risks.
Many of us experience carefree pregnancies and deliveries. But issues and risks arise for enough of us that it’s worth packing a little extra awareness and self-advocacy along with those essentials in our hospital bags.
Black women can increase our chances of a seamless delivery by stacking our delivery squad with folks we know will listen to us and advocate on our behalf. In addition to a partner or other support person, Black Doulas can be effective advocates for laboring mothers and a Black doctor can truly make all the difference in ensuring our voices are listened to.
Truth #2: When your kids start school, you’re still Black… and now so are they!
After surviving toddlerhood, I registered my kids for kindergarten with a song in my heart and a skip in my step.
I certainly did not think much beyond the chance to finally escape my mortgage-sized daycare payments.
And to be honest, if I had, I am first to admit that I would have been blinded to the problems within our education system. I sort of had this “maybe it was just me” thing going on.
I chose for a long time to hope and believe that stories about ill-advised educators in Blackface, teachers suspended for racist rants, and racial violence that disproportionately targeted our kids were outliers, they happened at other schools.
I was probably complicit for longer than I should have been.
Don’t side-eye me. I know.
I now totally understand why some parents seem “over-zealous” at graduation.
I used to roll my eyes at seemingly overzealous Black parents. You know, the ones who make a spectacle of themselves at their kids’ graduations. I’d watch those viral videos of parents and guardians running in the aisles having all the tears.
I would just shake my judgmental, naïve af, little head.
Let me tell you, from where I sit now, those folks don’t celebrate hard enough.
It is work to help Black children succeed in our schools. In a school system that is largely filled with folks who don’t look like me or my kids, there have been too many times when nonsense has turned me into an advocate I wish I didn’t have to be.
From one kid or the other being called the N-word by classmates to traumatizing Black history lessons, to teachers mistaking my child for another (the other) during a parent-teacher interview – navigating the education system while Black is a lot. There is no guarantee they will leave the system with their self worth intact never mind good grades.
There are good teachers. And yes, education can open future doors for our children. All of that can be true while our education system demands constant vigilance from Black parents.
Overseeing my kids’ through the system has taken an investment in time, watchfulness, and involvement than I had ever imagined. Their graduations will feel like sweet vindication. And the end of a second job.
So yeah, as my kids cross that stage you can be sure I will be “that mom” doing the most at graduation.
Sleepless nights aren’t just for new parents… raising Black teenagers is not for the faint of heart.
Whew.
So then, let’s say you have a wonderful pregnancy, you learn how to mindfully engage with teachers and your child is thriving in our education system. GREAT! Then you get the reward of raising your children through the teenage years!
Oh and yeah, before you ask – yes they are still Black!
I’m never going to negatively harp on teens. Teenagers already have so much growing and learning to do and are facing so many challenges. They have big emotions and adult-sized bodies and need support to navigate through an incredible pace of change.
As parents, we have to make it through all of this to the other side too – all while keeping in mind that we are raising kids for a world that in many ways is not ready for them.
I am ready to support my teens through attitudes, hormones, and all manner of emotional, financial, and physical needs. While I wear on my shoulders that outside our homes, the world sometimes views our babies very differently.
Cases like that of Dafonte Miller, a Whitby-area teenager who was brutally beaten at the hands of an off-duty Toronto police officer land differently for those of us who have teenage sons that deign to walk the streets after midnight.
While his case garnered widespread media attention plenty of other cases on the Black list do not. Cases like this makes parenting kids who look like ours tough to say the least. Forcing us to balance our teen’s need for freedoms and late nights – against the nagging weight of worry.
No warning or words would have prepared me for watching my baby transition from being viewed as cute to feared as threatening.
It would probably not have helped if someone had taken my baby head-sniffing twenty-something-year-old self aside and whispered in my ear: “Every time your Black teenager walks out the door wearing a hoody, drives on their own, or moves too hastily in a store – some small part of your mind will trip over an image, name or worse, the most recent hashtag, who made the same mistake and not come home from it.”
Our boys are punished more severely in schools, the justice system and society. No warning or words would have prepared me for watching my baby transition from being viewed as cute to feared as threatening.
It may only be a lesson we can learn once we are in the trenches.
As I parent Black teenagers, I’ve realized only through connecting with my village do I feel any safer. I keep my eye on the young Black boys, girls, men, and women whose humanity I fear isn’t always recognized. And I count on many other Aunties are out there doing the same.
Advice on how to raise Black children can be hard to find.
Honestly, if I had read this post before I started this parenting gig, I probably would have rolled my eyes. I had a bad case of what I will kindly call hopeful naivety.
And yeah, some folks will think that I should have stuck with the standard “take a lot of pictures” and “the nights are long the years are short” advice.
But you can find that advice anywhere.
In this village, I’m holding space for the parts of the parenting journey that is often overlooked and uniquely ours.
Parenting while Black is magic.
Nothing can change or dampen the joy to be found raising my children and the others I am proud to have call me Auntie. These are future kings, queens, and monarchs who are the dreams of our ancestors.
Black families can seamlessly champion Black children’s inherent worth and greatness even when faced with a world often content to dismiss it.
And in my opinion that makes us magic.
Black mothers, Black fathers, and all caregivers who surround and uplift our children deserve to have this special brand of magic seen.
Parenting while Black is a joy, it is the best ride I’ve ever been on. That’s part of why I started a Black parenting blog. While I am still learning every single day – I figure I should share along the way so no one can tell me I didn’t tell them!
Advice on how to raise Black children is hard to come by. But like the safety briefing given before the most harrowing thrill rides, no advice would ever have adequately prepared me for the thrill of the experience.
