Reflecting on my past, I chuckle at the time when I was unaware of the deeply political nature of Black motherhood. It’s almost as if I was oblivious to the realities that surrounded me. Our history is rich with narratives about Black motherhood, from the harrowing tales found in history books to the countless films that portray the struggles and resilience of Black women. It baffles me that anyone could overlook this profound legacy.
In many ways, Black motherhood feels like the opposite of what is commonly perceived as motherhood in America, which often centers on white experiences. This disconnect can be profoundly isolating. Many believe that the marginalization of Black women ended with the abolition of slavery, but the truth is that legislative inequities continue to disproportionately affect us. If you’re not seeing these ongoing disparities, you might not be paying close enough attention.
There was a time when I mistakenly thought my Black identity was the issue, rather than the skewed portrayals of motherhood in mainstream narratives. I naively hoped that if I ceased discussing race, I would be welcomed into the fold of traditional motherhood. Over time, I realized how impractical that expectation was. My identity as a Black woman is inextricably linked to my role as a mother, and there are moments when I gaze into my children’s eyes and recognize the harsh reality: in another era, they could have been taken from me immediately after birth. That thought rattles me to my core.
The barriers for Black mothers today are undeniable. We witness the tragic headlines about unarmed pregnant Black women being shot by police or the stories of mothers facing arrest while striving to secure a better education for their children. There is a persistent lack of trust and value afforded to Black mothers, stemming from narratives that position Blackness as a problem needing resolution. It’s understandable that the very pillars of Black life—Black mothers—are often subjected to criticism.
I often ponder what challenges my children will encounter that may lead them to think, “If only I hadn’t been born Black.” Every Black person has experienced such thoughts at some point. The weight of this reality magnifies when you become a parent. The systemic oppression we face affects every aspect of our journey into parenthood—limiting our options and resources and amplifying our fears.
Even those of us who feel fortunate are often judged based on preconceived notions. We are acutely aware of how race influences our children’s lives and our experiences as mothers. Knowing that my child is more likely to face disciplinary action at school or that they must temper their joy in public spaces because of racial biases is a constant source of pain. It’s an unspoken truth that, despite having a supportive partner, I am often seen as a single mother, battling stereotypes of dependence and criminality.
One of the most challenging aspects of Black motherhood is navigating these realities while striving to be fully present for my children. My son, at just three years old, loves to greet everyone he meets, yet I’ve seen his cheerful “hellos” met with disdainful looks. I hesitate to shatter his innocence by revealing how society perceives him, even as that knowledge lingers ominously in my mind. Would they react the same way if he weren’t Black?
Black motherhood often involves doing everything society expects, all while fearing that it will never be enough. It’s internalizing harmful assumptions and feeling anger because those misconceptions are so detached from reality. It’s knowing that people presume I’m a single mother, despite my husband’s daily sacrifices serving in the military for a nation that often overlooks him.
There are moments of anxiety as my husband leaves home, participating in social activities, knowing that even the slightest incident could have dire consequences for him. It’s feeling isolated, as those around me may not grasp the emotional toll of living as a Black mother in America.
Yet, amidst these struggles, there is joy. It’s witnessing the spark in my children’s eyes when they discover the tenacity and strength within their heritage. It’s celebrating their aspirations in a society that often sidelines them and cheering them on as they achieve their dreams. It’s singing along to beloved Black classics during family visits, where everyone knows the lyrics, and seeing my children’s faces light up with joy.
Black motherhood also carries the weight of our ancestors’ tears, knowing they would be overjoyed at the privileges I have in raising my children. The challenges of working from home, while frustrating, also allow me to spend more time with my kids than previous generations could have imagined.
As a Black mother, I embrace both the struggles and the blessings. I recognize that while I may often feel alone in this journey, I am fortunate to live in this moment. Though I may not be able to change the world single-handedly, I can ensure that my fears do not limit my children’s potential—one greeting at a time.
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Summary
Black motherhood is a complex journey marked by both joy and alienation. While there are significant challenges stemming from systemic racism and societal misconceptions, the strength and resilience of Black mothers shine through in their love and commitment to their children. Despite the barriers, there is a profound joy in celebrating heritage and fostering hope for the future.