My natural demeanor is one of little fear. Not that I don’t experience it, but my mind doesn’t get stuck there. The Taurus in me, says the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach will go away with a proper plan of attack. But having children places a mountain of fear for me that’s much more complicated. It’s the unknown, the fact that no matter the plan, there’s an awful lot you can’t control with your children; when they are sick, when they misbehave or when the world simply mistreats them.

On February 26, 2012, 17 year-old Trayvon Martin was shot and killed as he walked to a family member’s home from a convenience store where he had just bought some candy. Each day more and more details about this case and the man that took his life, George Zimmerman is revealed. But the more I hear, the more petrified I become.

I am not related to Trayvon. I don’t live in Florida and I don’t know exactly what happened that night. But I do have a son. A little boy that I think is precious. A child that I believe has the world at his feet, endless possibilities and an agenda to change the world.

At just 7-months I am in awe of the simplest of his accomplishments. He can stand by himself for a whopping 5 seconds. He can wave his hand to say hello. He can even pick up a cheerio, switch hands and place it in his mouth without dropping it. I tell you the boy’s a genius.

But it’s not just what he can physically do, but it’s his power. He can make the world stop by flashing his dimples. He can make stress disappear with a hearty laugh. He can make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world with a single glance. I tell you the boy’s a magician.

In all that he is and all I know he will be, I fear for him. I don’t trust the world we live in. I fear people will hate him for his strength, his intelligence, for his being. I fear something so futile as a black stereotype can keep him from his greatness. I fear the closer he gets to receiving his God given inheritance people will judge him. They will tell him black boys don’t like to read. They will tell him black boys don’t go to college. They will tell him he’s not attractive. They will tell him he’s not worthy and when he uses his all the gifts me and his daddy have placed in his tool box to fend off the hype, they will try to find another way to dim his light.

I am afraid to raise a black man in this society. Lord, give me strength to prepare him for what he will encounter. Lord, give him strength to endure. Lord, keep him safe and free from harm and grant us your peace and mercy. In Jesus name…



5 thoughts on “Fear

  1. I love your blog and this one especially touched my heart. As the mother of a young black child (8) I share your fears. As Mothers of young black men we share worries that no other group of mothers has to share. And this breaks my heart! I continue to pray for all of our young black men and I also pray for the hearts of men like George Zimmerman.

  2. Dear Chocolate Mother: Please keep praying. This culture is not fully ready to receive your son as a human being equal in every way to another. Know that you are raising a beautiful, handsome, intelligent, black child that you must guide to his independence. You have the right tools to do it with, nuture him, give him your values, let him know he is valued, he is some body, you expect great things from him. Tell him not to grow looking over his shoulder, but to grow in confidence that if he keeps faith in almighty God, your teachings and his own rational and judgment – he will become. This is a world that will dismiss him but he cannot dismiss himself. I know your strength and know that your son, our child, will be OK. Fear not. Love.

  3. Very well said; it is times like these that Proverbs 3:5,6 come to mind. No matter what others do, reliance on God will persevere. Your son is a beautiful boy that will grow into a well balanced, strong man. Keep up the good work!

  4. I have the same fear and realize I have to do all within my power to make sure that my son understands the position he has in our society.

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