Raising Black Kids in the #MeToo and #BlackLivesMatter Era
“I am scared of the dark,” is how my daughters often begin their bedtime routine. They tell me at every stage of their night routine that they are scared of: the dark, of something hiding underneath the bed, of the shadows that dance against the walls, of the closed doors. They quiet their fears by sleeping with multiple night lights on and our dog, Lucky by their bedside.
But what they want more is the comfort of my staying with them, rubbing their backs before they drift off to sleep, protecting them from whatever boogie man they perceive is under their bed.
I dip my head down, look under each bed almost every night to reassure them that nothing lurks underneath. I try to quiet their fears.
Since the murder of Atatiana Jefferson, the 28-year-old black woman, a pre-med student living in Texas, I stay with my daughters at bedtime just a little longer. In part, because I am not certain that I will see them when they wake up the next morning.
I do not assure them that a senseless tragedy, like the one the Jefferson family must now endure, won’t be us next. There are no guarantees. I cannot promise my own three children that their mom will be safe tomorrow, be alive.
Since waking to the news of Atatiana’s murder on Sunday, I give my daughters…
