A Mother’s Joy Denied

IMG_0008The other day while checking what was up on Facebook, I came across this post written by a friend of mine, a young woman of color:

I am seriously starting to wonder if bearing a child in this day and age would actually be a demonstration of selfish behaviour. The mere prospect of the ways in which my partner and I will HAVE to educate our future child (who, but for a random genetic anomaly, will inherit a complexion darker than his or her privileged counterparts) gets progressively more disgusting every. single. day.

In knowing her as a loving, gentle and creative soul, I ached as I pondered the ramifications of her thoughts. Has it really hit the point in our society when a woman and her partner would deny themselves the joy of creating and raising a family? Sadness loomed. And immediately I wanted to respond, to reassure her that she need not fear so much…. to point out that many people throughout history have asked that very same question given the horrific contexts which they faced. I wanted, too, to tell her that parenthood is never without threat, regardless of the key identifiers of a family and its members. Death can come at any age, for many reasons. No parent is free from that threat and the perpetual grief it brings.

But then, before hitting the blue post button on the FB page, I realized what I was doing. In spite of my good intentions, I was failing to address the actual source of her fear. Neither had I admitted this: Even though tragedy may, indeed, strike my family, odds are overwhelmingly against the likelihood of my sons and grandson (and my daughter too) being intentionally targeted due to the most uncontrollable aspect of their physical being – their skin color. Never need they fret being pulled over for a meaningless offense only to be confronted by someone else’s rage. Never need they worry that one word, one look – however unintentional or justified – can and will be used as a reason for arrest. Never need they live in fear that in spite of their own efforts, education, goals and achievements, within seconds, a person of authority may deem them so dangerous, so worthless, that a shot may be fired at them without so much as a single warning. Yes, some of those people who have perpetuated such offenses against sons and daughters of color are now more likely to be prosecuted, but yet, nothing can erase the slur, the humiliation, the death incurred. As I came to see that vast difference of reality we face as mother and potential-mother, my grief deepened, and a question surfaced:

What can I do to change the reality she faces?

Nothing, I grieved, nothing.

In that moment, my own sense of insignificance, of nothingness, grew as I wallowed in that self-pity, for that was what my grief quickly became. Yes, I love that woman, a relatively new friend of mine, dearly. And yes, if I had the power of – let’s say – a politician or a celebrity, or the money of so many of my Manhattan neighbors, I would pour all I could into supporting whatever drive, program or campaign that could somehow address this matter. But who am I, I groveled. Nobody but a 50+ year-old white woman who doesn’t even have a job. Oh how I pitied myself as I wallowed in that sense of nothingness. I even decided that it’d be best to delete that potential post altogether, given that it could be viewed as yet another condescending attempt to brush aside her very real concerns. But then, as I was ready to simply let the matter go, of all things, a bible story came to mind, Mark’s rendition of Jesus feeding the five thousand. In it, when the disciples told him to dismiss the crowds so they could get food, Jesus replied rather bluntly, “You give them something to eat” (Mk 5:37). When they balked, Jesus took over.

I couldn’t help but see myself as one of the disciples, convinced that I have nothing to offer, or at least so little that it would make no difference. And there it was, my excuse. In reality, as a living breathing human being, it is a lie to claim I can do nothing. Rather, the reality is this: I can only do one small thing, not all that is needed, but something. And, in holding that thought just a bit longer, I had to admit an underlying fear. What if when I try to offer my “something,” someone laughs at me, dismissing my efforts, ridiculing my attempt? Worse yet, what if a peer or acquaintance becomes so angry with what I try to offer that they reject not only my “something” but me as well? Wouldn’t it just be better for me to do nothing, to be nobody, than to risk such derision and rejection?

No, my heart insisted, no! In fact, it drew my attention to one other point I was considering for my original post. I wanted to tell her that if, indeed, she and her partner choose to have no children due to the hate and violence projected by others, then, those perpetrators win, having obtained the ultimate expression of oppression – not only the destruction of life, but the obstruction of life at its very beginning. And if that is what “they” are allowed to acquire, then, not only does my friend lose, we all lose. How much joy, how much love, and how many wonderfully unique individuals will creation be denied if she and her partner – and so many others pondering the same reality – decide such a sacrifice is needed?

And that is why I can’t expect her to bear that burden alone. Not only do I want her to experience all the joy and beauty I have as mother, I want our world to be deeply blessed by the gifts her children will bring to us all. And so, somehow, in some way, I will find something I can do to address this situation, even though, right now, after having wrestled with the matter for a few days now, I don’t yet know what it is. And that’s humbling.

But here it is….one more way in which nothingness manifests itself; one more battle that must be fought. How many of us in looking at the many issues of our times – this one of racism included – in being so overwhelmed by their magnitude, decide that there is “nothing” we can do and so, convinced that we’re nobodies, opt out? Too often I’ve done that. It’s time to change. I may not yet know what I can do for my friend, but, I trust, my “something” will make itself known, and, I hope, you, too, begin searching for your “something,” the means through which you offer your self in addressing an issue dear to you.

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