Each morning, my teenage daughter, who was adopted from Haiti, has a routine: she scrolls through the news on her phone and asks if I can take her driving. She’s passionate about both activities.
Just yesterday, she quietly walked out of her room. After a rare moment of cuddling and some time in the kitchen, she finally sighed and asked, “Mom, did you hear about the news regarding Marcus Johnson?”
I nodded, sensing the weight of her question. When her younger brother, also adopted from Haiti, entered the room, I noticed her hesitate. She didn’t want him to overhear.
This scenario plays out every time a Black individual is killed by police, or wrongfully accused of a crime. It’s a dilemma I grapple with, especially when faced with the harsh rhetoric surrounding immigrants and minorities. Do I share these painful realities with them?
Deep down, she understands the importance of discussing these events. We need to navigate these tough conversations as a family, with her white siblings and us, their white parents, actively participating in the dialogue. My Black teens must also remember the rules for interacting with law enforcement, a lesson that feels increasingly heavy.
I wish more white parents could grasp the reality of what my daughter faces—a silent barrier that complicates her friendships with white peers. Later, as she lounged on the couch with her dog, she browsed for a new phone case. One caught her eye: the powerful black fist. Another featured a stunning Black woman adorned with a crown.
Yesterday, she didn’t request to drive, and today, she woke up without checking the news.
“Maybe hold off on the news for now,” I suggested gently. “Let’s chat first and take some time to prepare.” I hesitated, wanting to shield her from the harsh truths that awaited her. She’s just months away from getting her driver’s license—a milestone that should be joyous but now carries a weight of anxiety.
Every time she gets behind the wheel, she may wonder if she’ll be pulled over, and, if so, will she face a tragic fate like Marcus or Phil? Will her image be plastered across social media? Are her grades and achievements enough to protect her from potential judgment?
“Marcus Johnson was a bright student,” I’ll explain later. “He was reaching for his ID when he was shot—despite informing the officer of his actions. His child was in the backseat.”
As I prepare to share this news after her dance class—a time when she’s most at ease—I find myself ordering the phone case featuring the Black princess. I add the one with the power fist, too. It feels trivial to focus on phone cases, yet it’s a small gesture I can offer before breaking her heart.
She will likely think of Marcus’s family and then of her own. I fear she won’t ask to go driving today, either.
For more insightful discussions, check out this excellent resource on infertility and pregnancy. Additionally, if you’re interested in home insemination, visit this authority on self insemination for valuable information. And for further reading about parenting and life’s challenges, see our other blog posts.
In summary, navigating the complexities of adolescence, identity, and safety in today’s world is a profound journey for both my daughter and our family. It’s a balance of joy and sorrow, understanding and protection.