Recently, a post appeared in my social media feed that struck a chord deep within me, causing my heart to race with anxiety and sorrow. As I continued reading, I felt an overwhelming need to absorb every word; as the mother of a black son, turning a blind eye is not an option. The stark truth is that, regardless of his kindness, respectfulness, or education, my son is at risk.
At just seven years old (or nearly seven and a half, as he would insist), my son was born on Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday. We brought him home from the hospital, pledging before a judge to love and nurture him for life. Six months later, we finalized his adoption, making him the third black child in our family. Four years down the road, we welcomed his little sister into our home. As a multiracial, adoptive family with my husband and I being white and all four of our children being black, our experiences have been enlightening but also alarming.
Adopting my son was an eye-opener. Although we had already been raising two black daughters, we noticed a shift in how strangers interacted with them as they grew older. In their infancy, they were often showered with compliments like “adorable” and “cute.” However, as they matured, we began to observe a different narrative. Some white individuals assumed they had a preference for hip hop music, while others labeled them as “sassy” or used terms like “girlfriend” in a condescending tone. Numerous white women even attempted to touch their hair, a clear example of microaggressions.
With our son, the shift was even more alarming. Strangers quickly transitioned from complimenting his looks to perceiving him as a potential threat. I witnessed the way white mothers would instinctively pull their children away during innocent playdates at the park, even if my son wasn’t involved in any wrongdoing. He was a tall, robust toddler who, to many, embodied the stereotypes that white America fears: a big black boy.
His age and innocent demeanor seemed irrelevant. Despite being in diapers and full of affection, my son would stop at nothing to share kind words and gentle affection with babies around him. He has always been deeply empathetic, even choosing to play with friends with special needs, ensuring they felt included and valued.
Yet, a defining moment solidified my understanding of what it means to raise a black boy in a fearful society. One day, while my son’s sisters were in school, I ran into an acquaintance who hadn’t seen him for a while. She remarked on how much he had grown, to which I replied, “Yes, he is a big boy!” Her response, “What a cute little thug,” shocked me, especially given that it followed just months after the tragic death of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri—a case that was omnipresent in the news, igniting discussions about race relations in America. The divide was unmistakable: either black lives mattered or they didn’t.
A few days later, while preparing dinner, I turned on a kids’ show for my children, but the news broke in. Michael Brown’s image filled the screen. My oldest child, sensing the gravity of the situation, asked, “Who is that, Mommy?” Tears welled in my eyes as I answered, “A boy who was about to go to college.” I swiftly changed the channel, grappling with how to explain the harsh realities of racial bias to my young children. How could I prepare them for a world that would judge them before knowing them?
My husband and I take our responsibilities as transracial adoptive parents seriously. Aware of our whiteness and lack of experience in black culture, we have engaged in numerous learning opportunities, acknowledging our missteps while remaining committed to our children’s upbringing. We ensure our children have role models who reflect their racial identity, including mentors, barbers, and members of our community, all of whom help us prepare them for the inevitable racism they will face throughout their lives.
This preparation includes candid conversations about the importance of adhering to specific rules when interacting with law enforcement, shopping, or simply being in public. We emphasize guidelines such as keeping hoods down, not running, keeping hands visible, and always obtaining a receipt for purchases. My children are not permitted to play with toy guns, even in the safety of our yard. While it is heartbreaking to explain these rules, they are crucial for our son’s safety.
During a parent-teacher conference when my son was four, I was taken aback when his teacher asked, “I probably shouldn’t ask, but was your son born drug addicted?” Such a question, steeped in stereotypes about black individuals, was startling coming from someone who had cared for him regularly. What biases shaped her perception of him?
Trusting white individuals has become a complex issue for me. While some may show kindness, their true beliefs often remain hidden. Just because a white person treats my son well does not mean they are fully aware of their biases. The misconception that being colorblind equates to being non-racist is misleading.
Before the pandemic, I took my son to a local park. As he and three other boys enjoyed playing together, a father who had previously been glued to his phone rushed over to retrieve his son, the only white child in the group. There was no sign of trouble, yet he felt compelled to intervene. His instinctive reaction illustrated the deep-seated fears society harbors regarding black boys.
When Ahmaud Arbery was killed while jogging, I was heartbroken but not surprised. Similarly, Christian Cooper’s experience in Central Park highlighted the dangers of racial profiling. Black boys can engage in ordinary activities and yet be perceived as threats. This narrative is not just dangerous; it is tragically common, as evidenced by my own son’s experiences.
The narrative surrounding black males has been shaped by media portrayals, systemic policies, and societal upbringing, which paints an inaccurately fearful picture. This is deeply troubling, as it strips black boys of the opportunity to live carefree childhoods. As Ibram X. Kendi notes, they are “stamped from the beginning.”
My own white privilege cannot shield my son from the realities he will face as he grows up. I am grateful to be his chosen mother and take the responsibility of preparing him for adulthood seriously, but I recognize that he needs the support of our community to navigate the challenges he will encounter. We have discussions about the realities of his existence, emphasizing that while he is cherished by us, he must adhere to certain rules that may help keep him safe. We will continue to have these conversations, as he deserves the chance to flourish and discover his path.
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In summary, raising a black son in today’s society poses unique challenges and risks. Families like ours must confront these realities head-on, ensuring that our children are prepared to navigate a world that can be unkind. Through community support and open discussions, we strive to equip our son with the tools he needs to thrive.