Tag: Brown Children

Philando Castile and Why Raising Little Brown Children Can be Scary

The conversation in my house is a lot different.  It goes like this: “Baby, if pulled over, and you are in the back, put your hands on the head rest where they can be seen, see but don’t see, look up, take your headphones out, be quiet, don’t play the music loud, don’t put the hood on, if stopped by an officer, what would you do, say this, if this happens, honey, let’s talk, you cannot go, stay with mommy, what happened at school today, did anyone say anything to you, no you cannot play with a mask, take it off, no toy guns, the water gun has to be bright orange”  The list goes on and on.  

Let’s have a very real conversation.  I am the daughter of a former officer.  Many of my closest friends are officers.  I am a firm believer they should be thanked, respected and they are definitely needed.

Now, as a mother, I have a different perspective.  My gentle giant is often just viewed as a big black boy.  Coming from a multi-racial family, even though we don’t see color, I do see color.  I am raising a brown child.  The conversation in my house is a lot different.  It goes like this: “Baby if pulled over, and you are in the back, put your hands on the headrest where they can be seen, see but don’t see, look up, take your headphones out, be quiet, don’t play the music loud, don’t put the hood on, if stopped by an officer, what would you do, say this, if this happens, honey, let’s talk, you cannot go, stay with mommy, what happened at school today, did anyone say anything to you, no you cannot play with a mask, take it off, no toy guns, the water gun has to be bright orange”  The list goes on and on.

Raising a brown child, I literally live with my heart beating extremely fast anytime he is not with me.  What if he is in the car with his father (a black male)?  When I see this video and read this article, I can only think, “how reckless!”  The officer killed an innocent man, could have killed the woman, the child, and the other officer on the other side of the car.  To shoot like that was nothing but reckless!  Why must our black men be feared; why is it okay to just take them away from this earth and their families?  This article is exactly why we say, Black Lives Matter.” We know others do too, but right now we are talking about ours.

Rest in peace to the man who worked for the public school system, who memorized over five hundred names and who memorized all of their food allergies.  You, sir, are the real hero; the real MVP!  My heart won’t stop aching over this.

And when the little girl begged her mom, “I don’t want you to get shooted.”  She is four years old!!!  Find it here

The privilege of having my son participate in cotillion

The privilege of having my son participate was more than learning the Waltz. It was cultivating friendships he would hopefully have for a lifetime. It was meeting new friends that he may end up with in college. He learned skills he could use in school, at business meetings, his wedding and on his job(s) in the future. It was creating a healthy network for him and letting him have fun while doing so. It set the tone for his activities to come. Of course, every mother’s dream is to have her child represent well-that is exactly what he did.

Many have participated in cotillions and many will in the future.  The reason I am so happy is that my son participated in a cotillion with other children that looked like him.  He was not invited to participate in the cotillion with his school friends or in that area, but he did participate in the Jack and Jill Cotillion, which gave children in the metropolitan area an opportunity to learn the Fox Trot, Waltz, and Tango.  He had the opportunity to participate in etiquette classes and socialize with other children who wanted those same opportunities.  One thing I noticed when we were shopping and preparing for the cotillion, others asked, “what is the occasion,” I was quite shocked at the response I received.  While many thought it was a wonderful opportunity, I had to face scrutiny from those I expected to be happy for him.  One person asked why I made him go through that and another questioned which one as if they were shocked he was participating in a cotillion.

Thankfully for us, he loves etiquette classes and cotillion.  I have a son that loves to dance and socialize.  He thrives from social interaction.  When we went to brunch as a cotillion social event, the waitress complimented him to me, saying, “your son is so polite.”  I was so appreciative of the compliment.  I began to notice it myself.  He was passing to the right; his elbows were not on the table and he even waited until we all had our food before he ate his own.  My eleven-year-old child was demonstrating what he learned and was thriving!  My money was not wasted and my heart was glad.

The privilege of having my son participate was more than learning the Waltz.  It was cultivating friendships he would hopefully have for a lifetime.  It was meeting new friends that he may end up with in college.  He learned skills he could use in school, at business meetings, his wedding and on his job(s) in the future.  It was creating a healthy network for him and letting him have fun while doing so.  It set the tone for his activities to come.  Of course, every mother’s dream is to have her child represent well-that is exactly what he did.

I am so appreciative of the Jack and Jill Cotillion and if you ever have an opportunity to allow your child to participate in a cotillion or take etiquette classes, I highly recommend it.

Kelly Johnson

Photo Credit- Hilary Grant Dixon

What is it like to be a mother of a little brown boy?

I am scared he might have to hold his hands up one day even though he is innocent. I am afraid that even though his Papa was a cop (my daddy), he may be harassed while driving. I stay on him about what people might do to him and how he should react. I will end here. Before I go, I want you all to know that being a mother of a young brown boy is more than the nice pictures you see. It is like having an asthma attack and never catching your breath…. because…….”I CAN’T BREATHE.”

What is it like being a mother of a little brown boy? Well, my parents (married and together) raised 5 girls. I didn’t have brothers. I was used to girls… but now, as I grew up, I learned people look at them (brown boys) differently. They assume most come from broken homes, they assume they are unaccustomed and loud. I have to say, “stay with me, stay close, hold mommy’s hand.” I cannot let him walk the neighborhood. Even if his friends (not of his race) at school are loud… or misbehaving, he is questioned first (not at his old school, but yes, at his new school…as much as I liked them…he was). I get to know his teachers, volunteer, join the PTA board. Sure, I like doing that stuff; it is who I am, but…… I also want them to know who we really are. We are not thugs! We come from the middle class – upper-middle-class families and we are accustomed! He is brown, but he does NOT steal nor does he curse nor is he naturally loud. He just wants to be an 11-year-old boy. He isn’t looking at your daughter; he doesn’t think like that at 9, 10 or 11. He is not “fresh.”

I foster his love for chess because it teaches him to THINK BEFORE HE MOVES in all areas of life. I put him in PALS (Police athletic league), so he could like cops and they could like him. He does all the things your children do: camps, vacations, nice experiences EXCEPT I have to watch him like a hawk. When he is 16, he cannot just go to the mall like I did when I was younger, he cannot go to Kings Dominion without a parent; he must be protected. My mother hates my personalized plates. I like them. The cops know I am an educator and a mom. If I have a backlight out (that I won’t see until I am told), they pull me over and say, “where do you teach?” They know kids might be in the truck. I have to think ahead; be in protect mode all the time. I am always trying to protect him while at the same time keeping him exposed. I am scared he might have to hold his hands up one day even though he is innocent. I am afraid that even though his Papa was a cop (my daddy), he may be harassed while driving. I stay on him about what people might do to him and how he should react. I will end here. Before I go, I want you all to know that being a mother of a young brown boy is more than the nice pictures you see. It is like having an asthma attack and never catching your breath…. because…….”I CAN’T BREATHE.”

Kelly Johnson