Category: race

Better Days

Posted on by Tikeetha T

So much tragedy. It’s hard being a parent right now. Tragedy everywhere. May is graduation and prom for most colleges and high schools. It is supposed to be a reminder of the future. Your life begins once you leave those hallways. Or so it is assumed.

I read the horrific story earlier this month about an 8 year old boy named Gabriel Taye that had killed himself two days after being bullied. He was 8. A baby. The same age as my son.

The story last week of Kingston Frazier who was 6 years old and had been shot. His mother ran into the store at 1:15 a.m. and left her car running and the keys in it. Why? I couldn’t figure out why she would do that until I realized that her child was sleeping and it was probably hot outside and she wanted the air to run to keep him cool. Her car was stolen by three teenage boys. Her son was murdered.

The story of Lt. Richard Collins III who was murdered on the campus of my Alma Mater. No reason. Waiting for an Uber with some friends at the bus stop. A white student unprovoked attacked and killed him. Collins was a model student who was just commissioned as a second lieutenant. Set to graduate from another college three days after being murdered. Model citizen.

What do all these people have in common? They are all dead.  They are all boys. Two were murdered by other people. They are all black.

As a mother, my heart breaks as I think about my son growing up and leaving the safe confines of my house. Is it unreasonable? Nope. Given the state of this country, I would argue that it is very reasonable. I worry when he exits my home and goes to school. Schools aren’t safe anymore. Sandy Hook reminded me of that.

I worry because of the color of his skin. That beautiful caramel colored skin is a badge of honor. A combining of complexions of his father and I that reproduced and created this gorgeous melanin he proudly wears. I love it, but I monitor his toys. No toy guns. They are not safe. Tamir Rice reminded me of that.

I worry because he is sensitive. Too sensitive. He cares about other children, but I’m trying to thicken his skin. Teach him how to trash talk. Teach him how to defend himself.  To stand for right and be a good human being. But, he’s experienced bullying. No matter how much you try to protect your children they may fall victim to bullying. Bullies can hurt you beyond belief. Gabriel Taye’s death reminded me of that.

Do I overreact and not let him play in the neighborhood? Yep. Do I live in a bad neighborhood? Nope. But, I don’t trust strangers. Not with my Munch. I don’t leave him in the car. He begs to stay sometimes. He doesn’t like going in the store. Fear grips me but I make him come. Someone could steal the car, take it. I don’t care. Not my son though. So, I never leave him alone. We have to be vigilant about protecting our children. Kingston Frazier reminded me that my being overprotective is not in vain.

All the things that I can give and experiences I can provide that will make him a well rounded young man may not help him. I’m already looking into the top high schools in the area. A better opportunity. A future. A chance to go to college and make something of yourself. You are better than you think and smarter than you’ll ever know. Be of good character. Stay out of trouble. Pray. Give it to God. Lead by example. All those things may not be enough. Lt. Richard Collins III taught me that.

These are perilous times. So many tragedies. So many parents having to bury their children. It’s not supposed to be that way. We are supposed to smile as our children get married. Laugh and love on our grandchildren. Be their support system when bad things happen. We’re not supposed to bury our children. We’re not supposed to pick out suits or a coffin.

Life isn’t fair. I know this. Tragedy happens everywhere. I get this. But, oh I pray for better days. We need them.

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Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

1500 Thank You’s

Posted on by Tikeetha T

Today I learned that I had more than 1500 WordPress followers. I just wanted to scream when I saw that. I’m honored you chose to follow me.

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I never believed that I would reach this milestone, but Mr. C did. He encouraged me to write and knew that others would enjoy reading what he enjoyed reading. I am thankful. I am blessed.

I could have never imagined growing this blog. The pace may be slow to others, but it works for me because I believe that everything happens in God’s time. In late October of 2015 (19 months ago) I had only 200 followers. Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for reading. Thank you for taking this journey with me.

For my new followers I write about things that matter to me. Things that have shaped my world and perspective. Things like love. From my first love, to dating, relationships and my divorce and all the things in between. I believe in love. I’m grateful for it.

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I also know pain. Pain from past abuses and broken promises. Pain of a divorce. Pain of infertility.  I write about that too.

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I write about my faith. I love God and am a follower of Christ. Super flawed and I talk about it. I struggle with making sure that my fear doesn’t overpower my faith. I struggle with a lot of things. I’m a work in progress. Each day I choose to be better. But, through it all I know that God has never abandoned me and loves me.

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I talk about social issues. Things that affect me…as a woman, as a black woman, as a mom and as a human being. I believe in the unity of all and I am blessed to have people from all different backgrounds in my tribe.

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I write about parenting. I’m a mother to a 9 year old little boy that I affectionately refer to as Munch. He is the light of my life. He’s a rising fourth grader in a French Immersion program. I’m overjoyed at his birth because he was created by God through help of medical science (I did IVF).

So, that’s my life. That’s who I am. That’s what I write about. I thank you for following and look forward to connecting with each and every one of you.

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Disclaimer: I own no rights to any photos except the picture of my son and I. All others were found on Google.com.

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links: Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

 

 

Black Women vs. White Women

Posted on by Tikeetha T

Why do they always seem to put us up against one another? Why is it that it’s always in the news that black men prefer white women or that black women have bad attitudes? Why is it that society can’t seem to find us beautiful?

If it’s not one thing, it’s another, but this is no pity piece. I don’t need your sympathy or coaxing to tell me that I’m beautiful. Hell, I know I am! My confidence and self-esteem are not defined by society nor shattered by their comments. I love me. The skin I’m in and the woman that I am.

My issue is when people want to pit us against one another. Can’t we all just get along? I mean seriously. I have some cool white girlfriends that I call my sisters and hell I’m sure that they think I’m a cool black girlfriend. Race doesn’t divide us. Our genders unite us. We are about the success of women.

So, you’re probably asking what’s got me fit to be tied? It’s this constantly circulated stereotype that asks the question why do black men prefer white women? Last week one of the bloggers I follow, Sunny over at Grown Folk Talk Radio, posted the Instagram page of a Washington Redskins player who asked the question of why do black athletes marry white women?

I’m sure it was written to get everyone in an uproar. I mean what isn’t done on social media for likes or comments? But, one “athlete” in particular posted this foolishness:

Was I hot? Absolutely. The whole response is meant to divide us. To play one race of women against another is pathetic and I’m so tired of that foolishness. Let’s be clear…love who the hell you want too. I don’t care. But, what I won’t do is allow my race and gender to be disrespected in any way. I have to set the record straight.

Here’s the thing…that question is asked to divide instead of unite us. People can’t help who they love. Color is not blind. Love is. You choose to fall in love. Love is amazing, but if you are choosing to love people that are not in your race then I wonder do you truly know what the meaning of love is? Self-love is the first step to recognizing and accepting love.

Now, my issue is the fact that this gentleman’s argument was flawed. Here’s why…

  • Most of the sisters were raised in broken homes.  What statistics back that up when it is a whole lot of women choosing not to marry but have children? You are sitting there trying to refer to us as your sisters while throwing shade? That is whack? If sisters are growing up in broken homes, where is the man who could fix that? I mean if your argument is that a man leads, why is he not leading the family?
  • They don’t have the proper guidance on how to treat a man. Umm, what is the proper guidance? Is there a class? Where are boys taught how to treat a woman? What are the ways in which we are supposed to treat you? This my friend is call for action instead of trying to destroy us. Teach at the Boys and Girls club or get involved with local community organizations to teach children how to communicate effectively.
  • A white woman knows her position and accepts her role. Are you kidding me? I know many white women who are alpha females and married to great men that lead the family, but they are not docile women cowering in the corner. Where are you meeting these women? Does your girlfriend know that you think of her in those terms?
  • Black women think that it is 50/50. If I went to college and grad school like you why would I want anything less than 50/50? Does that mean that we are splitting the finances down the middle? No. It means that I will be an equal contributor to our family’s future. That is what it means. Is that bad? Nope.  But, on the flip side that doesn’t mean that I will support a man trying to be a rapper in his 40’s. You are not bringing your all to the table sir. Relationships evolve and people set their own rules, but to dismiss someone’s belief is close minded.
  • Black women are stubborn, close minded and always want to argue. Umm, where are you meeting these women? See, you can always find some stubborn and close minded people that want to argue regardless of race or gender. This is not something you can put on all black women.
  • Black women are not coachable. What? Are you a therapist? Because I will tell you that I’ve always said black people (not just black women) need three things: Jesus, wine and therapy. We need help. It is not just black women. How can a man coach a woman if he secretly hates them? That is what the real issue is.

This whole argument spoke of ways to divide us and I for one am tired of it. These small minded individuals are petty and obviously unhappy with their lives that they feel the need to speak such foolishness. Last time I checked it took two people to make a relationship and/or marriage work.

In the interest of self disclosure…my dad walked out on us when I was 9. The oldest of 3 kids. He didn’t financially contribute to our upbringing. Nor was he physically present in our lives….EVER. Where the hell is the outrage for the men who just don’t care and don’t give a f*ck about the kids they leave behind? Would you expect a woman who didn’t have a father who wasn’t a man not to have any issues? Anyone would. Yet, I’m the problem. Not the man that left?

So, no my momma wasn’t teaching me how to be a dutiful wife and know my place. She was out there busting her butt working 3 jobs to provide for us because the man she married didn’t think his children were worth it. All while making $16,000 a year. Do you know how hard that is? There were no talks of how you should treat a man. We had food security issues.  That was more concerning.

The key to relationships regardless of race is communication. We all need to learn how to talk to each other in our relationships. If you’re dating someone and they do something you don’t like, talk to them. Give them an opportunity to correct their behavior. If they don’t, move on. But, stop trying to blame black women for the ills of black men or stop trying to divide black women and white women. We all have battles to fight.

P.S. The supposed “athlete” is really not a professional football player.  I hope that all women know what kind of foolish and deceitful man this person is.

 

 

Want to keep in touch? You can find me on social media at the following links:  Twitter @mskeeinmd, Facebook page A Thomas Point of View and my Instagram page https://www.instagram.com/mskeeinmd/.

Saturday Thoughts

Posted on by Tikeetha T

Hey Loves,

Thank you for the wonderful and encouraging responses to my post entitled Dear White People. I love you all. You give me hope that we can be the change that I hope my son will see in this world.

I wanted to share with you some observations that we all do….

  1. We all make generalizations. We all have preconceived notions about someone the minute we see them. You don’t? Stop lying. Prime example – I had a vendor come in and speak with me about the graphics for my guide they are doing. I had never met the vendor and thought a gentleman was meeting me. It was a woman. No biggie. When I see the woman she was elderly and on a cane. Now, my first thought is why is this woman still working and is she really a graphic artist. My second was would she be able to deliver? Do you see how I made judgement about someone based off their outward appearance? People do it all the time especially with skin color.
  2. Referring to people by the color of their skin. This happens to all of us. Another blogger pointed that out and I said it happens mainly when I have two friends that have the same name and are of different races. If I was telling you what my friend Karen said and you know of both Karen’s most would ask which Karen. Now, let’s be real…do you know anybody’s last name unless they are a personal and close friend? Probably not. So, I would have to say my white girlfriend Karen or my black girlfriend Karen. Then you would be able to recall which Karen. That’s not racist or mean. I totally get it. You won’t have the problem when talking about me because how many of you know more than one Tikeetha? I’m waiting….

Finally, some great words from my fellow blogger Afrika Bohemian. I love this woman right here. She shares her world through her blog and I am always learning something new about her Tribe. Check her out if you haven’t. These were her words…

So to all my beautiful sun kissed brothers and sisters, going through hell because of the color of their skin. A line from one of the ancient African praise poems (translation is rough): “beautiful children of the soil, the ones carried for years in a black baby sling made of skin, children of color, of the hues of the earth and of life may you love your color and know that it is the color of the bark of the wild berry trees, a color of those who are friends with the sun).

 

Standing in Judgement

Posted on by Tikeetha T

Last week I was reading this post over at Clutch Magazine about Charlize Theron dressing her son up in a blonde wig and hat. I clicked on the picture and looked closely and realized that he was in fact dressed up as Elsa from the movie, Frozen. Not just a random blonde wig. He had on the dress and shoes and black folks were all up in arms.

Why? Charlize Theron is the mother to a five year old son. Yes, he’s black. Yes she adopted him, but she’s still his mother. Now that we have that settled let’s get something straight…parents can do whatever the hell they wish when raising their children. As long as it doesn’t hurt them in any form or fashion.

I’ve written about this before. It is a parent’s right to raise our children however we choose. Ultimately we all want the same thing… to raise happy and healthy children that become productive citizens and not mass murders. That being said, Charlize is no different. The problem with the comments in this post were noticeable. People were making it into a race issue. It wasn’t. It was a parenting choice.

They were attacking how she chose to parent her son and trying to paint it is a racial issue saying she is prohibiting him from knowing how much of a strong black boy he is by allowing him to dress as Elsa. What? I in no way thought that he was going to be damaged by dressing as Elsa. I felt it was her parenting choice. However, I felt the commentators were disguising their disgust and trying to mask it in race when it is in fact a homophobic issue for them.

They were mad that she allowed her son to dress up as a girl. If it was from Disney’s Princess and the Frog and it was Princess Tiana (a black princess) would that have made it better? Nope. It wouldn’t. But, it wasn’t a race issue and I felt compelled to say that it was a parenting choice. Why? Because I’m a glutton for punishment? Nope, because I know what it’s like to parent.

 

The conversation took an ugly turn when I tried to defend her. Why? I’m defending her right to parent and to parent a black boy in the best way possible. Who are we to judge? That made me the apparent target of being judged.

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Now, I stopped responding to the foolishness of others, but the woman Sys Author had some pretty respectful comments so I continued to engage. I don’t engage with idiots, but she was polite and respectful and we could agree to disagree.

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While I appreciated the interaction of intellectual conversation, I just find that the whole thing has grown out of proportion. Rich people have a different set of issues that an average middle class or poor person may not understand. Each level of the tax bracket could probably say the same… You don’t know what it’s like to walk in my shoes. Do we?

I don’t think so. I am thankful for my varied experiences. I grew up poor. I would be described as middle class (working poor in my opinion) but I may never obtain millionaire status without hitting the lottery. I’m okay with it, but unless things take a turn for the worse, my son will never know what it’s like to be poor.

Thankfully.

But, I say all this to say that parenting in general is hard. Parenting black boys is hard. Parenting black girls brings another set of issues too. Parenting black children in today’s society where you have to wonder whether or not sending your children to school will allow them to come home safely or whether walking them down the street will get you killed by a stray bullet is a hard reality for many black Americans. But, we can’t allow bitterness to make us judgmental and make everything about race.

In this case it was a parent’s decision to allow her child to dress up like Elsa. You don’t agree? Fine. It’s not up to you to agree with it or not. However, it doesn’t make her a bad parent or someone who lacks racial sensitivity.

We can’t judge a parenting choice and disguise it as a racial issue. There are enough racial inequalities that are real. Those are the battles that are worth fighting. I respect her decision to allow her son to do what he wants. To wear what he wants. To allow him to freely express himself.

We just have to stop judging each other. We have to stand united and understand that we all make mistakes, but respect our differences. We all want the same thing for our children and we all want a better country. I  believe that someday we’ll get there.

These Are Perilous Times

Posted on by Tikeetha T

I didn’t want to write this. Another post about the injustices of those who are supposed to serve and protect killing two men last week. The videos. Social media. I couldn’t. I was too emotionally drained. Angry. Frustrated. Scared. Heartbroken.

So, I prayed. I prayed for healing for our nation. I prayed for the families of the victims. I prayed for the families of the officers who committed these heinous crimes. I prayed for the officers murdered in Dallas. I prayed.

In times of trouble there is not much I can do but write, protest and pray.

I can use my words to talk about the things that black parents feel – but you know.

I can talk to you about how I’m afraid for our black men dying at the hands of police – but you know.

I can talk to you about how I feel about our black girls dying too – but you know.  

I can tell you how it feels to be the mother of a black boy – but you can probably guess.

So, what is the purpose of this post? To simply ask you to look through a different lens. A lens outside of your own. Take me for example…Let’s see, you know that I love my son more than life itself. That he is the reason that I truly understand God’s love because he gifted him to me. You know that. You know that I spoil him, chastise him, kiss him, run him back and forth to the many activities and I record every moment of his life. Afraid to miss anything.

He is valuable.

He was wonderfully created and made by God.

Just like each of you.

But, I can’t understand why in this country we wear blinders and act like racism doesn’t exist. Let me break it down for you…It does. I’ve experienced it first-hand.

Do I believe that every white person is a racist or that every situation is about race? No, I don’t. Many black people don’t believe that either. But, I need you to understand this…we have to stop acting like we can’t talk about race or that racism doesn’t exist. 

When you can justify the killing of two black men as “they were probably doing something wrong” you’re part of the problem.  When you can write about someone’s past as fact and they are the victim,  you’re part of the problem. We have a problem people. Let’s own the problem and find a solution. 

Will you ever understand what it feels like to be black? No. No more than I can imagine what it’s like to be white, gay, Jewish or Muslim but that doesn’t mean that I don’t empathize with other human beings when things happen in communities outside my own.

We’re all human.

We all matter.

We were all created by God!

A righteous and just God that I have faith will heal this hurting nation.

Can you understand that?

I, like most black parents, fear for my son. I fear that he will be presumed guilty if he ever encounters a police officer. Judged on the streets and not the courtroom. He will be judged not by a righteous and just man. But, by someone who will see his beautiful skin color as a threat. It won’t matter that he’s a child or that he has no criminal background. He will be assumed guilty because he is black.

So, I want to know that the public servants (law enforcements) who may encounter my son treat him fairly. The way that they treat others who look like them. If they do shoot my son unjustly, I want the person to be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. It’s that simple.

Do you know what it’s like to not let your son play with certain toys because you don’t want him to get gunned down like Tamir Rice? No toy guns. No real guns. Even though you have a right to bear arms in this country, the second amendment wasn’t designed to protect you Munch!

That’s what I have to explain to him. That’s what I have to tell my son someday. Our dirty laundry that the history books leave out. Do you tell your children the truth about our country’s history or do you omit it hoping and praying for better days?

The whole “if you don’t know your history you’re bound to repeat it” rings in my head. Are we repeating history? Silently. This thumping with the songs from my ancestors playing lowly in the background…We Shall Overcome!

We shall overcome.

When we stand united.

When we stand as one loving people knowing that we won’t allow the bad apples of our society to taint our generation.

To stain the fabric of our humanity.

We shall overcome.

 

For Black Boys

Posted on by Tikeetha T

Today’s Black History spotlight is remembering two black boys…Emmett Till and Tamir Rice. As a mother of a black son I constantly think about the effects of racism in this country and how it will show its ugly head as he grows. My struggle to conceive him was overcome the moment I heard him cry. I carried him in my womb until my body could no longer support him being inside me. He was my first and last thought as I was rolled into the cold operating room.

That fear never went away. It was replaced as I started hearing about our black boys being murdered. You see, I lived a sheltered life and thought that only black boys that were gang bangers were being shot. This doesn’t happen in the suburbs.  Until, Trayvon Martin.

I paused.

How quickly a child’s laugh could be replaced with a mother’s mournful cry. A cry filled with so much pain that I can only try to stifle that growing and gnawing pain in my own stomach. I can’t imagine losing the little boy that I prayed for. That I carried in my womb ushering in his life.

Trayvon’s death helped me see that this world hadn’t changed much. That people will still judge you by the color of your skin. People will assume no matter how many degrees I may have or how much money I make or the nice cars I drive or fancy neighborhoods that I move into that my son doesn’t belong there. Because he is black.

Times have supposedly changed but they haven’t changed enough. I try to hide the target on my son’s back everyday that I send him to school armed with the items necessary for him to succeed…a book bag, his school uniform and lunch box filled with all his favorite foods. Notes, I think. Don’t forget to put that note in his lunch box telling him how much you love him and you’re so proud of him.

Because if you do…

You just want to make sure that he knows. He knows that he’s beautiful. He’s smart. He’s loved.

No playing with guns. No video games. Nothing that could ever make him a target. I buy him name brand clothes. Spend my hard earned money buying from shops that some of his peers can’t afford. My only child. If I hide him then they won’t see him right?

I’m doing it because I love him.

The same way that Emmett’s mother loved her son. The same way that Tamir’s mom thought that letting him play outside was okay. Both were children who didn’t come home one day. Children who will never graduate high school. Get married. Have kids. Have a future. Mother’s who felt the emptiness in their wombs from the loss of their boys.

I vow to remember the names. The countless names. I vow to try to change the system. I vow to remember that our history, Black History is America’s history and we have to do better.

Emmett Till – July 25, 1941 – August 28, 1955

Tamir Rice – June 25, 2002 – November 22, 2014