As a mother of a two-month-old baby boy, I find myself worrying more than ever. Being a white woman, I was raised among sisters and female cousins, so the prospect of raising a boy feels foreign to me. When I learned I was expecting a son, I didn’t fret about the societal inequalities he might face, as I had with a potential daughter. I never thought about how his race would influence his life, simply because white privilege often allows one to bypass such considerations—at least, that was my perspective until he arrived.
In the days following his birth, I was confronted with troubling news stories, including the case of a privileged white man, Jake Sanders, who received a light sentence for a serious crime against a woman. His lenient punishment sparked outrage, and I couldn’t help but worry that my son might one day embody such entitlement.
Not long after, shocking events unfolded as two Black men—Marcus Hill and David Johnson—were fatally shot by law enforcement. Living in Minnesota, I felt the weight of these tragedies acutely. It dawned on me that while I won’t need to worry about my son’s safety based solely on his skin color, I must consider the kind of man he might become. He could easily fall into the patterns of privilege, potentially becoming someone who exploits it instead of challenging it.
You might think it’s selfish for me to focus on my white son’s upbringing. Certainly, he won’t face life-threatening situations because of his race, unlike countless Black boys who must navigate such dangers daily. He can wear a hoodie or play with a toy gun without fear of deadly consequences. I won’t have to caution him about protecting his drink at college parties for fear of assault, unlike what I would do for a daughter. Instead, I face the reality that he might grow into someone who perpetuates harm rather than preventing it.
This is why I am concerned. I worry for our Black boys and our daughters. I worry about our white boys because they are the ones who must learn about equality, understand white privilege, and actively work against it. They need to be taught about consent, respect, and responsibility—especially in a society that often reinforces harmful stereotypes about masculinity and race.
As a white mother, I feel overwhelmed by the task of raising my son to be an ally rather than an oppressor. I understand that I must instill in him a sense of responsibility that comes with his identity. It’s essential for him to understand that being white and male does not mean he is entitled to special treatment; rather, it means he has a duty to support and uplift those who are marginalized.
But, I am new to this journey. I am still learning how to navigate these conversations and instill these values. It’s a daunting challenge, especially when I see the injustices that surround us. If mothers of Black boys must teach their sons how to interact with police to stay safe, then I must do my part to ensure my son understands how to be a positive force for change in our world.
I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m committed to starting somewhere. I’m beginning to listen more, read extensively, and engage in conversations about race and privilege. Initiating these discussions at home is crucial because, if we fail to address how we raise our white boys, we risk perpetuating cycles of oppression. It’s time for us, as those with privilege, to take an active role in fostering a more equitable society alongside our children.
For those navigating similar questions, I recommend visiting Women’s Health for excellent resources on pregnancy and related topics. Additionally, if you’re interested in more insights on self-insemination, check out this informative piece. You can also explore Cryobaby for authoritative guidance on home insemination.
In summary, my journey as a mother to a white boy in a complex world is filled with uncertainty, but my commitment to teaching him empathy, responsibility, and awareness is unwavering.