My Son

As I held him for the very first time, I looked into his eyes awash with emotions. My son! Was this true was I actually holding in my arms, my son.  I had dreamed of this moment for as long as I could remember, and I knew that nothing would ever be the same.  My life, the choices I’d make were no longer for me.  Every decision I would make would be made with this beautiful young child I held in my arms in mind in mind, and I would have it no other way.  I would go to war to protect this child; I would let no one or nothing hurt him physically, mentally, or spiritually. Despite my happiness, there was still a small part of me that wondered was it fair to bring him into this world.  A world that will not look upon his beautiful bronze skin for the magnificence It represented. Instead, they will look at it as a threat.  He will be a target, and each day he leaves the house, I will have to worry if he will return. He will have to work twice as hard to be considered an equal of those less talented than him.  They will question him at every step.  Was it fair to bring such innocence, such beauty into such an ugly world?  Was it selfish on my part? Will I be able to protect my son? These are the thoughts that run through my mind in what should be a moment of unbridled joy.  This sadly is the reality of being a black man in America

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s