When did my children’s race become collateral damage in your game? Pawns in the politico. As if you birthed them from your womb, you nursed them at your breast, stayed up with them long nights when they were sick to see if they were still breathing, caressed the curly locks about their face and kissed there cheeks that carry my bone structure, my eyes. As if you raised them, giving them strength and encouragement that God was enough, He will see us through. He is a Father to the fatherless. Where were you when their black father walked out of their life ten years ago, bouncing in and out of jail, years without financial support. Where was the black mentors and friends that extended a hand to their hearts? When black children at school call my son “white-boy” because his white family being the only one that cared enough about them, mocking him for his white mother. Where you there the first day of school? The joy of playing in the park, discovering the night sky, their first time at the beach, their first band concert or football or soccer games, going to grandma and papas to play in snow for the first time. When they couldn’t participate in donuts-for-dad, or the father daughter dance at church. When did your blackness equate that you were a better mother? Bravely telling me my inefficiencies as a white mother to adequately prepare my children for the “racist world” What you fail to realize is that you prepared me to teach my children about the racism in the world. Your blatant disregard for my role as a mother, quantifying my ability simply by the color of my skin. You seek with your hatred to turn the children of my womb against my cultural heritage. One seeped in hard working people, dairy farmers, sailors, working class laborers that teach my children about faith, family and the power of forgiveness and the dangers of an unforgiving heart. You mask yourselves wolves in sheep’s clothing as if peace, unity, understanding and equality was the foundation you stand on. All too well I know that it is separatism, hatred, bitterness and entitlement. If Black lives matter, why are the children breaking under the weight of spiritual abandonment?
You may succeed in your endeavors. My children may be infected by your poison, but I know the antidote is Christ. May they drink the elixir of the gospel we are all one in Him. You are a part of the cancer that has affected the hearts and minds of humanity. It is a heart and character issue, this disease has no regard for race, religion, gender or socioeconomics. You place qualitative measures on suffering. You rely on poor world history to proliferate your narrative. When faced with facts and reason, you retort with the “race card” to shut people up. What you accuse others of, you yourselves do. I want to remind you I carried my children for 9 precious and difficult months. I have raised them alone, without an extension of help from the black community that treats me like a leper or under the haughty eye of superiority. Who wait to use my children in your political rhetoric. A number to add to your collective. Who will not call them by name or sit with them at a banqueting table or along side of them in life…no…your call rises up only on behalf of their “blackness”…you will never call them by name, nor by character. You will teach them their rights as blacks, we shall wake up one day and your life will be judged not by the content of character, but by the color of your skin. I am a white mother of multiethnic children (black). You have deemed me unfit and proved yourselves as racists.