Mama fears

I read this post this morning of a blogger I follow and adore. What a heartbreaking story, It begins with this beautiful picture of a gorgeous little African American girl, just 7 years old and looking snarky and fun and then the story reads... 7 year old dead, cause of death, stupidity! Police storm a house looking for a murderer and instead senselessly murder. This home happens to belong to this baby's grandmother. Guns out and blasting every which way and the girl peacefully sleeping under her Disney blanket on the couch accidentally gets shot and slowly dies as her daddy is on the ground with guns to his head. I start to wonder if the picture would be different if the this was the home of a wealthy white family. Would the scene look the same?

The story is sad and depressing and heartbreaking and REAL. Things like this happen a lot more than we would like to think about, than I'd like to think about.

Here we are in the land of privilege and opportunity. My baby and I living comfortably in our safe cozy neighborhood. This mama still has fears, fears based on evidence that things have not changed racially and ethically as much as we might think.

I fear that one day I will have to explain to my baby the stupidity of others, that one day somebody hurts him, calls him names, excludes him, profiles him or worse. I know very well what it feels like to be excluded based on something you can't change or people just don't understand. I am bi- racial, a woman with Latina roots as well as White European ancestry and though most people can't quite figure out exactly where my roots lay. I am all to familiar with the racism that occurs when they do. I lived in the North bay of Massachusetts in a primarily Irish / Italian population. A woman I worked with started spouting off about the scent of the Spaniards ( their funny smell), I said nothing but later that day I asked her to take a sniff of my arm. She must of thought it was a new fragrance or something because she willingly leaned in. "What is it?" I smiled and said, "It's that Spanish smell". I then went on to explain that I am Spanish as well as a few other things. She looked pretty pale and after that and she sure watched what she said. I can only hope that she learned something on that day. There have been other incidents but it's sort of pointless to list them all. I suffered another form of prejudice as well while growing up. Weight related and still a fairly sore subject with me. It's amazing what people will say, what they will do and the rights they think they have to discriminate as they see fit, as if they themselves are flawless. What's wrong with people???

Anyways, I guess I've always thought about it but having a child of color and seeing his beautiful chocolate skin, his big brown eyes that seem to look right through you and knowing that he knows nothing of what's before him. I feel that it is my duty to cut the bullshit and protect him.

I am fearful but I have hope that our family and families like us and beyond will make a difference.