What If It Was Your Child?

I never imagined that the Black Lives Matter movement would have the impact it’s had this year. I’ve always known how important the movement was, but after the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd? Even more people got woke. And fast. Many different races stood up this year. There were riots and protests and demands for justice, and the overwhelming amounts of love and support were inspiring and revolutionary. This past summer, different people and communities were coming together and were a united front. Sadly, at the same time, there were others who remained silent as others spoke and stood up.

And that was disappointing.

It was especially upsetting and painful seeing nasty, insensitive, and hurtful comments on the internet and in the press from different people who felt as if the emotions and responses stemming from communities all over the world were unwarranted and not okay. Seeing different people who have kids of their own be so dismissive is something I’ll never understand. I’m not a mother, but I can empathize with family members, friends, and colleagues who are. I’m a Black woman, and I’m also a Black educator. And the majority of the students I teach and work with each week are Black, so I’m well aware of a lot of what’s happening in the world. So to the individuals who feel like there’s an issue with people demanding justice and the peaceful protests that have taken place to promote change, what I’d like to know is how would you respond if your son or daughter was murdered?

What if it was your child?

The families that had their loved ones murdered due to police brutality, racism, and hatred are hurting. They're mourning. And they are in need of justice. I'm certain that if you were in their shoes and it was your child who lost their life, maybe you would feel differently. You would appreciate others supporting your family and being an advocate for justice and change. It's just something to think about. We all have a lot more in common than you may ever realize, so don't pretend you don't know what's happening and choose to remain silent. Speak up, stand up, and show love and support. We can't let hate win.

The Day I Became A Kidney Donor

About a year ago, I had a dream my dad wanted to talk to our family about something serious. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to discuss, but I knew it was something I needed to prepare myself for. Around the time after I had this dream, I remember stopping by my parents place and sensing something was going on that they weren’t telling me. I tried to dismiss what I’d been feeling, but I couldn’t shake it. Something serious was happening. As I returned to my home after visiting them one day, I was in my kitchen washing dishes when a heaviness hit my heart like nothing I’d ever felt before. Something’s wrong with dad. That’s what that dream was about. God, what’s going on? As I continued washing dishes, I started crying and praying. Then in mid-spring, my dad held an unexpected family meeting that would change all our lives forever. He hesitated at first, and as his voice started cracking and he started crying, he said, “Well, I wanted to talk to ya’ll to tell you that I have kidney disea...

Thoughts From a Black Educator: Qualified, Credentialed, and Constantly Undermined

I’m a Black educator in my fifth year of teaching middle school English, and in my third as the 8th Grade English PLC (Professional Learning Community) Lead. And while I genuinely enjoy the purposeful work I get to do, seeing the growth of my scholars, and continuing to hone my skills in a content area I’ve loved since I was a little girl, I’ve had to confront some unpleasant experiences in this space. I’d been through much worse when I was an academic advisor at a Christian university. Racism, sexism, harassment, and workplace bullying were sadly norms in that environment. However, some of what I’ve experienced as a Black educator hasn’t been normal … It doesn’t seem normal to be the only Black educator in my department – in a predominantly Black school. One of my Black colleagues once said, “It should look like a Tyler Perry movie in here.” But it doesn’t. It didn’t feel normal being reprimanded in a meeting (during my second year of teaching) by an administrator who went in on...

The Day I Made A Will

When I was a teenager, I remember writing a list of my greatest fears. One of the things I listed was death. Looking back, it was an interesting item to list because inevitably, death is something each of us will face at some point in our lives. Even though it’s no longer a fear of mine, I understand why and how it’s not a comfortable thing for everyone to navigate. But regardless, this past summer I completed a detailed will. I signed it, had witnesses sign it, and got it notarized. As I was getting everything done, one of the witnesses looked at me and said, “You know, it’s just that you’re so young…” I’ve learned that death doesn’t care how young or how old you are. You can be five, fifteen, thirty, or fifty, and it’s still something that happens. Completing my will wasn’t scary. It gave me peace of mind having documentation in place stating my detailed directives and requests. A year ago, I had one of my kidneys removed. It was a surgery that came with risks that were presented cle...

Making Waves