artificial insemination kit for humans
The word “Mama” is a melody I cherish—hearing my children call me Mama or Mommy fills my heart with joy. Even on challenging days when I contemplate a name change, the sound of their voices calling out to me is a comfort. This cherished word even inspired the title of my upcoming memoir, Mama (Algonquin Books, 2022).
Every parent knows that raising children and being actively present for them is no easy task. I often discuss the importance of being engaged and giving my all to my kids—and I strive to do so, often pushing myself to exceed my limits. As a Black queer mother, I feel an added weight of responsibility to do more.
But why should I sacrifice my own well-being and mental health? Should I really put my self-care on hold just so that the predominantly white men coaching my six-year-olds’ soccer team can witness a capable Black woman in that role? No, stepping onto that field for representation does not diminish my own needs. It’s impossible for me to be everything for everyone, and I refuse to put my health at risk trying to achieve that. Therefore, I’ve learned to decline roles, such as being an assistant youth coach.
In the wake of George Floyd’s death, I’ve felt a compelling drive to ensure that Black, queer individuals are represented in spaces where they are often absent—essentially, everywhere. While watching my daughter’s soccer game from the sidelines one day, I took a moment to look around. The field was filled with children in colorful jerseys representing countries from Nigeria to Italy, yet I couldn’t find any coaches of color, especially women or queer coaches.
Stephanie Y. Evans, a professor and author, points out that the pandemic has underscored the importance of self-care as community care. During such a stressful time in our nation, adding more to my plate just to prove I belong feels counterproductive.
I won’t bore you with a rundown of my various commitments, but my schedule is already quite full. As I sat on the sidelines that day, I felt a sudden urge to consider coaching soccer next season. Do I believe I’m qualified to coach a group of five and six-year-olds? Not really—I signed my child up for soccer so that someone else could take on that role. But the absence of a coach of color made me think about throwing my hat into the ring.
While I could reach out to a friend who could help me become an effective coach, I also know I would have to sacrifice my already limited self-care and risk my mental health, all while preparing for my book tour in the fall of 2022. My intentions to contribute come from a good place, but I recognize that I can’t stretch myself too thin.
I understand the importance of participating in my child’s PTA and attending meetings for my son’s boarding school. However, I also realized that I cannot engage in every battle that arises. Dr. Jameta Nicole Barlow emphasizes the growing awareness among Black women of the need to establish healthy boundaries for their well-being.
I need to accept that not engaging in every fight does not reflect failure. In fact, by prioritizing my mental health and overall wellness, I am choosing to be the best version of myself for my family. I am enough, and I am committed to showing up in ways that truly matter.