How Long Can I Protect His Innocence? Talking to My Child About BLM
It’s been almost two years since George Floyd’s untimely death, and our hearts are still twisting. Our minds are still reeling with the aftermath of the tragedies of 2020, and I still get emotional when I think about the conversations I had to have with my son, explaining the state of the nation.
I didn’t have a handbook or words to explain everything going on. I was tired, angry, irritable, stressed, and all-around grieving. I was so busy trying to keep my head above water and figure out how to serve my community that my child cornered me in the car.
At the time, I wasn’t sure what to say, but I did the best I could…here’s how that conversation went:
Empty streets. Boarded stores. Tension-filled air.
A week after George Floyd’s death, driving down the street was like trying to wake up from a long nightmare. The ones where you’re stuck between consciousness and deep sleep, so you pinch yourself, try to roll over or get out of bed, but all you can do is moan your discontent. Praying that something will wake you up from the terrible state you’re in.
It was like that, but not exactly. This time, I was as awake as the rest of the world.
As I drove through our neighborhood, my handsome, curly-haired, seven-year-old son was in the backseat, staring out the window at the chaos around us, singing some random rock song he heard. He turned to me and asked, “Mom, is this because of the virus? What’s BLM stand for?” Sigh.
My mind rapidly goes through the mental Rolodex of age-appropriate answers to give him.
It’s hard enough to explain what a pandemic is and why he’s been doing school through a screen for the past two months. Now, I have to add to the complexities of social unrest and black people’s… his people’s state in this country?
I’m not ready to. I just thought I had more time before I had to darken his world with knowledge of racism and hate in a divided country.
But how long can I protect his innocence before that protection is counted as negligence?
I guess time is a luxury I don’t have.
I stop at a red light and look at his face that looks so much like my mocha skin with a healthy dose of milk. Realizing, he’s not as oblivious as I hoped.
I say, “In its most simple form, BLM stands for Black Lives Matter. The BLM movement has been happening for a while, but a man died recently, and his death sparked a lot of outrage and anger in people. So, people are marching and protesting in the streets for justice. Some people who don’t care about justice and are just mean are breaking into stores and robbing them. So, stores are boarded up so they can stay safe.” It was a terrible explanation, I know, but I needed time to come up with a better one.
And just when I think I’m home free, he asks, “Why did he die? Why are people so mad?”
“Why?” Oh no! How much time do I have? Where do I even start? With the history or the present? It’s so much deeper than George Floyd.
I think I can’t explain BLM without teaching the Civil Rights movement, Jim Crow laws, and slavery.
How do I explain what it’s like to grieve for your people, country, and history?
I think to explain to him that as a black man, people might see him as a threat. The world can be harsher for him. Even with his caramel complexion and silky hair, his skin will be too dark for some and his hair too smooth for others, and it’s not fair.
I think to explain what happened to Tamir Rice and Trayvon Martin.
I want to say so when mommy yells at your white daddy for getting you toy weapons that look too real, it’s because I have to remind him some people will see your skin color before they see your innocence.
I think to tell him your family is not the norm. Most people don’t have a black mother, white father, Korean uncle, Dominican and Filipino aunt, or a family that lightly resembles a “we are the world” poster.
I think all these things, but I don’t say them. Not yet.
I just say, “On May 25th, a match was lit, and George Floyd’s death was the spark that set everything off. It was as if we were all standing in a dry, socially distant, isolated forest, and a man kneeled with just enough hatred and venom to set the world on fire. And people who were already angry, scared, and frustrated because of the pandemic became outraged.
See, the feelings of frustration and helplessness are not new for Black America. We have such an ugly past in this country that being mistreated, scared, and angry has been more common for us. But there comes a time when each generation has had their moment to stand up in unity, continue to push us forward, and demand justice. And this was one of our times, and fortunately, we had time today.”
He looks over at me, all beautiful and innocent like and says, “I don’t get it.”
I peer back at him and say, “One day, you will. And that’s what Mommy’s afraid of.”
If 2020, with all of its tragedies, was hard for adults, if watching a man call out for his mother before he dies caused nightmares for me, how much more difficult is it for a child?
At the time, I didn’t have answers for the things I was still trying to reconcile in myself. And that’s okay. But thankfully, now I have some resources to share with you about how to talk to your children about the Black Lives Matter movement and its history.
Resources:
https://masshumanities.org/clemente_essay/why-i-took-my-children-to-a-black-lives-matter-protest/
https://blog.brainpop.com/helping-kids-understand-black-lives-matter-movement/