It’s Black Fathers Week in several cities across the country. And to celebrate the many, many strong, positive Black dads out there doing their thang, we’re giving away, FREE!!, our popular “Strong Black Father Under Construction” tee shirt every day to the first 10 people who post a comment to this blog every day until June 9th.
In the meantime, I’m sending a special message to single moms everywhere this Black Fathers Week. This week is a time to encourage, celebrate and support Black fathers everywhere. I like this. We know there are so many great Dads out there who don’t get their props. Remembering the importance of black fathers is so much more important in our community, where black women are disproportionately single parents. According to Census data, 45.4% of black homes are headed by a single female compared to 13.7% for whites and 22.3% for Latinas. Other studies show that black children are eight times more likely than white children to live with an unwed mother. And though we are notorious for taking good care of our families—and the list of prominent, successful adults raised by single mothers runs long– our children still need their fathers. As single parents this is particularly important. I’ve seen all too many black single moms let off a triumphant, “my child doesn’t his need his father.” “Her father doesn’t deserve to see her,” –add neck roll. And it just isn’t true. In fact, we should never want that to be our truth.
My girlfriend and I have been having an ongoing debate ever since my husband moved out and I joined the ranks of the single moms. She has been one for years. She laughs at all my efforts to keep the “wasband” involved in the children’s lives—continuing to notify him of doctor’s appointments, school conferences, recitals and soccer practices—even though he doesn’t show up half the time. She thinks I’m foolish for letting him see the children after he breaks the appointments, doesn’t call or has some other lame excuse. Of course, it annoys the hell out of me. Sometimes it makes me cry. But the truth is, my son still breaks into the biggest Kool-Aid smile when he sees his Dad pull up in the driveway. He often gets so giddy at pick-up he starts running around like crazy. I can’t help but smile. At five years old, his memory is short and his standards for what a Daddy should be are pretty low. My husband won’t have this luxury for long. My 9-year old daughter is already hip to his game and very much less enthusiastic about his arrival and pick up. But that is a call for my children to make. Pretty soon, they will see their father for who he is, good and bad—children are so discerning, aren’t they? But it is not my place to paint that picture for them. Their Dad will have to deal with that with them when the time comes. My girlfriend on the other hand, has a laundry list of the things she dislikes about her child’s father which she points to a “character issues” and “lack of responsibility” which quite frankly, are the farthest thing from her 3-year old’s mind. That little girl just wants to run and play and get a Happy Meal every now and then. Other times her anger about their broken relationship gets in the way. Either way, she’s caught in a control game, insisting on him playing by her rules. Her daughter is the biggest loser in this one. Now, I don’t play when it comes to safety issues of any sort. But outside of a child being in some sort of physical or emotional danger, there isn’t much reason, in my opinion, to keep children away from their Dads.
And as my mother will quickly tell me, when I launch into a complaining tirade about the wasband, “Well, you picked him and you slept with him.” There’s not much I can say to her after that.
So this week, I ask all single mothers to think about their children. Recognize the importance of our black men in our children’s lives. Not everyone has a perfect Dad. This is the reality of the world. But do something even small this week to support and encourage your child’s father presence in your little one’s life—despite his shortcomings. When it comes to raising strong, confident black children and revitalizing our communities—we need our men.
Leave a comment and your email address to get a FREE “Strong Black Father Under Construction” tee shirt. The first 10 people who leave a comment each day are guaranteed winners!!
Black mothers who inspire me are always my new BFFs.
Which is why I am so loving Malaak Compton Rock. I had the pleasure of meeting Malaak a few weeks ago at the Women’s eNews 21 Leaders for the 21st Century gala awards in New York City. (Check out a few pics below. Paula Geddings, my fellow Amistad author was also honored for her historic book on my personal journalist shero, Ida B. Wells)
Malaak’s mom mantra is simple and borrowed from Marian Wright Edelman: service is the rent we pay for living. This is what she teaches her kids.
Malaak was fittingly recognized for her frankly phenomenal record of service to several organizations and founding http://www.angelrockproject.com/, an e-village promoting everything related to volunteerism, service, humanity and social responsibility.
Malaak’s latest project, Journey for Change: Empowering Youth through Global Service, which will be featured in CNNs Black in America 2 this summer, takes at-risk kids from Bushwick, Brooklyn and takes them to Johannesburg on a service mission to help impoverished and AIDS orphans (CNN’s Soledad O’Brien presented Malaak with her award). The lesson is clear: no matter how bad you may have it, there are those in worse circumstances who need your help.
Malaak thanked her hubby, Chris Rock for leading her to the youths in Bushwick and being super supportive. I loved that!
Listening to Malaak’s commitment to service, made me think deeply about what and how we teach our kids about giving back. Our children live relatively privileged lives. Even if you are struggling, there are children in Africa who would love to have your circumstances.
I often wonder if I’m doing a good job keeping my own children grounded and grateful. Am I even setting a good example? How do you instill service into your children? How are you doing personally? Please tell me.
When it comes to keeping our kids safe, Black mothers have the biggest challenge out there. I’m not just talking about defective toys. As Black parents we have to keep our children safe from a dilapidated educational system, racial profiling, environmental racism, systemic bias and a whole host of things the FDA will never, ever recall.
PLUS, we also have to keep our eye on the other stuff, like BPA-free plastics, toxins in our baby products, preventing accidents in our homes and more. In fact, the recent tragic death of actress and mom Natasha Richardson has sparked a new debate on the safety of ski helmets or helmets in general–another safety issue to explore. As a mom, safety is everywhere.
That’s why I love my new friend Alison Rhodes aka the Safety Mom. Alison is all about keeping our kids safe, be it from dangerous toys or dangerous neighbors and has been featured on every national media show there is! We met for coffee last week in midtown Manhattan, and had a great time discovering our similarities as moms, divorcing women, and entrepreneurs with a passion for mommyhood.
After losing a baby to Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS), Alison also now advocates fervently on this issue. Black babies are 2.5 times more likely to die from SIDS than white infants, so I’m personally grateful for Alison’s work on behalf of all children. (Check out my recent blog on SIDS in our community.)
All in all, I’m really looking forward to getting to know Alison better and I hope you will to. Check out her great articles and posts at www.safetymom.com
And as a participating member of two failed black marriages, you’re probably wondering what I have to say about this matter. Me too…Well, first of all I’m still a staunch believer in the beauty and power of marriage. Between the right people, it can be one of the most powerful and fulfilling bonds between a man and a woman. I love that.
This weekend, my childhood friends Elgin and Raquel Coleman are celebrating their 16-year wedding anniversary with a Karaoke night at a favorite haunt. And as someone who went to kindergarten with Elgin and wore my purple velvet bridesmaid dress with matching shoes with fierce pridein their wedding, you best believe I’ll be rolling through to raise a champagne glass (or two) to their success. After that I’m expecting a raucous karaoke night that we will all blame on the a-a-a-a-akahol!!
But my strongest testimony to Black Marriage are my own parents, James and Alma Seals who will be celebrating their 50th anniversary this May. If there’s anything that I learned from my parents is commitment. That may sound odd from a two-time divorcee but in each situation I was always willing to do the work, get the help and have the tough conversations to make it right. Not everyone is built for that. My parents were team players and even during the typical mother-daughter drama of my teenage years, my father always made it very clear to my sister and I that Alma was the woman of the house and not to be disrespected. I loved my father for always protecting his wife, having her back.
My parents made our family their focal point, not themselves. That’s hard to find in our me, me, me-disposable society where people often want instant gratification and are unwilling to ride out the rough patches. I hope on more Black couples commit to riding out the bumps and preserving our families.
So on Black Marriage Day I want give a shout out to a few of my married friends: Devin and Dena Johnson (check out their blog.blackloveisalive; and their new baby blog djsqauredandthefamily) Schalawn and Robert Warren, Alexis and Daryl Williams, Eric and Nadja Payne, and to my newly engaged girlfriend Sherese Shepard and her fiance Tim.
I leave you all with the strongest words ever for Black Marriage Day from the Creator and originator of the marital union: “And a threefold cord cannot be quickly torn in two,” Ecclesiastes 4:12.
The other day I was up in Harlem after a great book event at Hue-Man bookstore, taking in the vibes, the street and the scene that is quintessential Harlem U.S.A.
As I walking up Adam Clayton Powell Blvd, I heard and saw a young boy, about 10 years old, being scolded by his father. Like most kids, it seemed like his father was telling him to do something he didn’t want to do. The father was yelling at his son, and it became more intense. The rest of the conversation–voices elevated, passersby watching–went something like this:
Young Black Boy: ” I wish I could kill myself.” (repeat, repeat, repeat)
Father: “Oh yeah, what good would that do?”
Young Black Boy: “At least I could be in heaven, and I wouldn’t have to be around you. “
Kimberly stops in tracks. I couldn’t move. The father continued to yell at the boy, while the mother stood by quietly holding on to the baby stroller.
Now I know emotional blackmail when I hear it, but I could see this boy’s pain in his face and in his body language. It was one of those moments when my mommy instinct told me to run over there, hug that boy and tell him millions of moms are rooting for him and his success and that this life here on earth can be beautiful and peaceful and full of possibilities. And that, even when it isn’t, you don’t ever give up.
I wanted to give his mother an understanding and empathetic look, like, “I know, sis, it ain’t easy,” and share some of my own struggles. But I knew none of these options were allowed.
I knew that our “village” mentality has long disappeared and that I needed to mind my own business, stop standing on the corner acting as if I was lost (when I was really engaged in the drama) and keep it moving to my car.
I drove off very sad that day. I was sad to hear that beautiful young boy declare that he thought death could be better than his life, I was sad to know that at a time, when we need other mothers, Aunties, grandmothers and sometimes well-meaning strangers more than ever before to help raise powerful and productive Black children, that we have had rid ourselves of these traditions. To our own detriment, I think.
But I was even more upset with myself. I felt I should have said something, done something anything, despite the consequences. I even dreamed about it last night. I wonder, if we can start showing Black mothers that we care, understand and support each other, can we bring “the village” back? If we rewrite the rules for what actually defines “my own business,” and say every Black child is connected and if yours fails, mine fails so therefore, by some very basic rules of logic and humanity, it is indeed very much “my business,” can we bring it back?
There’s been a recent wave of black mothers seriously harming their children, and I’m concerned. Last week, there was this story on CNN http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/03/12/children.thrown.ap/index.html about a 27 year-old woman who threw her two boys, aged 6 and 8, over a freeway overpass.
A few weeks ago, things hit closer to home for me when Latrice Brewer, a young black mother on Long Island drowned her three children, aged 6, 5, and 18 months, in the bathtub. Then she jumped off the roof of her home. Now she’s in jail awaiting trial. http://www.news12.com/LI/topstories/article?id=208569
I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer. I’m deeply concerned that black mothers are desperately trapped between keeping up the strong black woman syndrome and our cultural taboos around depression. I can’t help but wonder if anyone saw her signs of help and simply said to “pray,” or thought she was just in a “funk.”
I’m worried that the perceived “sisterhood” among black women is only superficial and doesn’t allow for real honesty of how we are really coping or not coping, instead of just keeping up appearances of being strong and doing it all without any help.
We need freedom to say, “I’m hurting,” or “I’m overwhelmed,” and I’m asking all black women as humans, as fragile beings, with breaking points, and as sisters to keep an eye out for each other and help break through our taboos to have a real conversation, a deeper conversation, a honest conversation…
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About Me
I am a mother... author of The Mocha Manual series of books, founder and editor in chief of MochaManual.com, and determined builder of a multimedia brand for black women. My first book, The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy is a first-of-its kind guidebook for Black women. My next book, The Mocha Manual to Turning Your Passion into Profit--How to Find & Grow Your Side Hustle in Any Economy, hits stores on January 20th. It's a must read for any Black woman looking to turn her side hustle into her ONLY hustle...Join me in a candid conversation about being a Black mother... Thank you for sharing in the Mocha Manual Mom experience!
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