If all goes according to the countdown on my iPhone and, more importantly, if God wills it, in just a few months, I will get to hold my son in my arms. Like most mothers anticipating the birth of a child I am already wondering what he will look like. Will he have his father's eyes? His sister's dimples? My lips? I have already been unable to resist buying a few adorable outfits and accessories (do guys call them accessories? is there a "manlier" term?) I have imagined how my daughter will respond to him and done a small bit of worrying over the future arguments and tussles that are to be expected between siblings. I have prayed for him to have a healthy body, a sharp mind, a loving heart, and a compassionate spirit that will yield easily to the Savior at a young age. I have also prayed for his daddy's height, quick feet, and sure hands that could turn into a pleasant college basketball career. Just college, as I'm not that into the NBA. After which he can parlay his experience on the court and in his honors classes at Blank University into a stellar career.
I pray in anticipation for his health. I pray in anticipation for his future. I pray in anticipation for his salvation. And lately, I find myself praying in anticipation for how the people, ALL the people of our nation will perceive him. Lately, I pray against the fear that creeps up in my heart, the fear of how some people will look at my son, will think of my son simply because he is black. I know that some of you who read my blog are not black and you may or may not be struggling with the current stories in the news and the protests happening, and I don't know more than you do about the individuals that are the focus of these stories. However, I do know that there are certain things I will teach my children to keep them safe above and beyond the basics of following the laws of the land and being respectful of authority. I will teach them a caution that I was taught, that my husband was taught is necessary because of how we can sometimes be perceived based on the color of our skin.
I don't know the details are the day to day lives of the boys in the news stories over the last few years, but I know that I have had women clutch their purses tighter because I was next to them in line at the checkout. My husband and I have sat in a movie theater several times and had people leave the seats on either side of us empty while having no problem sitting right next to the white couple in front of us. We've had elevator doors open and watched a woman choose to not get on, because somehow we look threatening in our Gap clothes and natural hair. My husband has been followed by the police while jogging through his own neighborhood. I have been followed through department stores by the security personnel, yes, in recent years. A year ago, when I failed to realize my lights on my car were not on auto (thanks oil change guys) I was pulled over along with a girlfriend who happens to be black (and a pastor) seconds after pulling out of a restaurant parking lot. We immediately recognized the problem and turned on my lights and then the officer asked for my drivers license just to be sure I was clear to go, which made perfect sense. However, he also asked for my friend's license. I'd never had an officer ask for the ID of a passenger in my car, and when I very politely asked him why, his response was, "We catch a lot of drug dealers and thieves this way." Apparently we were giving off that drug dealer/thief vibe. Must have been the leftover pasta in the back seat.
I think about those and countless other incidents in my life where I have been reminded in little ways that I'm viewed as the same by some people in our nation, and I pray fervently for the safety of my children, especially my unborn son. I pray because however intentional my husband and I plan to be as we raise them, they will be kids and teenagers someday. They will think themselves invincible as all teenagers do someday. They will make foolish choices big and small as we all did when we were teenagers. And they will simply walk down a street in our own neighborhood someday and perhaps be perceived as a threat by someone who sees everyone with brown skin as a threat. I pray, fervently that God will protect them both from their own youthful foolishness and from the fear of others. I pray that in the immediate years to come, things will change radically in our nation. I pray that some of you who read this with skepticism and arguments at the ready, will just pause and ask God to fill your hearts and minds with compassion for a state of existence that you might not completely understand. As I write this, I'm not interested in picking sides or winning an argument. I'm simply a mother who wants her children to grow up in the best environment possible. I'm a mother who loves her unborn son, and wants to believe that he will be judged by his character and his actions, not his appearance. I'm just a mother anticipating the birth of her sweet, black boy who doesn't want to be fearful for his future.
