As a white mother of a Black son, I find myself deeply engaged in conversations about race and racism. Recently, during our morning commute, my son posed a thought-provoking question: “Would you care about racism as much if I were white?” For a moment, I was taken aback, but I felt compelled to respond.
“No,” I admitted, “I wish I could say otherwise, but it’s true. Being your mom shapes my perspective in a unique way. I definitely care, but my experiences—and the way I see the world—are influenced by raising a Black child.”
This conversation lingered in my mind for days. Over the past seven and a half years, I have concentrated on becoming the kind of parent who ensures that my son feels happy, safe, and proud in his identity. It’s made me reflect on the person I would have been if my child were white.
Every time I see headlines about court rulings or hear tragic news about violence, I can’t help but picture my son’s face. I witness the prejudice that exists in our society through inappropriate comments or stares, and I constantly scan my environment for diversity, feeling uneasy in predominantly white spaces. This vigilance extends to where we choose to live, the schools my son attends, and even our vacation plans.
If my son were white, I know my experience would be vastly different. Yet, I find a sense of gratitude in this journey. It has opened my eyes to my own privileges and given me the opportunity to navigate life with a heightened sense of awareness. I feel more empathetic and motivated to advocate for change, especially in light of the systemic issues we face.
However, this awareness also brings anger. I have little patience for intolerance, and I refuse to apologize for being frustrated with the current state of affairs. I grapple with a sense of dissatisfaction with slow progress and a fear that lingers in the air. I realize that these feelings would not resonate as deeply if my son were white.
This reflection leads me to ponder: Who would I be without this experience? Ultimately, I recognize that it doesn’t matter. I am precisely who I am meant to be—a mother of a Black son who passionately discusses race and racism.
Further Reading
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In summary, my journey as a white mother of a Black son has profoundly shaped my understanding of race and privilege. It’s a path filled with challenges, realizations, and a commitment to making a difference.