Nico. America, 2017.

Nico.  America, 2017.
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Life is complicated for this kid right now. His many life transitions are catching up to him and he is desperately trying to figure out where he belongs.

Nico is Haitian, but in the States he's perceived as African American. Which, I suppose if you go far enough back, he qualifies, but he identifies as Haitian. But there's not a distinction between Haitian and African American in this area. That is confusing.  

Also, he's black but his parents are white. That is different. 

School work is very challenging for him while his siblings excel. That is embarrassing.

He is naturally athletic, but so much less experienced (in sports) than his peers because of living in Haiti.  That is frustrating.

He's gone from living in Haiti, to living in the States, to living in Haiti, to living in the States. He's gone from Kreyol, to English, to Kreyol, to English. That is disorienting. 

TiMache, Haiti, 2007.  Meeting Nico for the first time

Nico on this path of beginning to understand how he is perceived in a culture that is, at times, unkind/dangerous for black and brown people. He asks questions about black boys being shot by the police and we have to be honest because the statistics tell us we must. We do him no favors to sugarcoat it and leave him unprepared.

He sees the struggle. His best friend in school is the only other black kid in his class. He is bussed in from the projects in Raleigh, often gets in trouble in school, and has a single mom who works crazy hours.  And God bless him, Nico tries so hard to speak up on his friend's behalf. But Nico has yet to fully comprehend that he doesn't have all the privilege he assumes he has. And his 12 year old brain doesn't put things together quickly. And so Nico gets in trouble, too, as he tries to stand up for his friend.

Nico recently told me that he feels much more comfortable around other black kids because "they get it."  They get what it feels like to learn about slavery and segregation and feel gross as they realize that had they have been born in another time, it would have been them.  They get uncomfortable reading the word "Negro" out loud in the classroom.  They get the struggle to be accepted.  They can relate with not always being able to afford all the things you want. And they wonder, when they raise their hand first and the teacher calls on someone else, if it's because of the color of their skin. Or when they get reprimanded more often than their white counterparts for the same offenses, is it because they are black?

And guys, that's tricky. Because I do not know the answer.  Do I believe that people are being intentionally racist to him at school? Not really. But is implicit bias playing into his experience? Probably. We saw how implicit bias played out this week in America, 2017 when a black man carrying a glue gun caused a university to go on lockdown.

And this area we live in is tough. I mean sure, Money magazine has placed Cary, NC in the top places to live in the States 5 times since 2004, including number one spots in both 2004 and 2016. There is low crime.  There is a good school system. There are extremely educated people, several major universities, and the Research Triangle only minutes away. Tons of options for sports and activities for kids. Great parks and other recreation opportunities. An emerging food scene and tons of micro-breweries and tap rooms.  But is this preparing our kids for real life? Are these the things that matter?

I worry because while we boast of the diversity in our area, what we really mean is that we have a lot of Indians and other Asians. (Which, obviously, is great.) We need racial diversity in healthy communities. But the kind of diversity we have pretty much all exists in the same socioeconomic class, because that's the way we've created our neighborhoods to be. We've priced out socioeconomic diversity. There is little in terms of affordable housing, and the only affordable housing is in pockets, which has created a clear and distinct line between the haves and the have-nots.

Haiti, 2007. Feeding Nico for the first time while 7 months pregnant with Josiah.

Because Nico is struggling, today Nick and I went into his school to talk with some of his teachers about this stuff.  I feel like it was the beginning of a good conversation, but just a beginning.  After our conversation was over, Nick went to hunt down Nico to tell him about the things we discussed with his teachers before he went into his class.

And then, just a few minutes, later my phone rang.  It was Nick and he was close to tears. He said he had to scout around because Nico wasn't where he thought he'd be, but he finally found Nico in the gym. He said he looked across the gym, watched Nico jumping rope, and he had this thought that Nico looked like a was a 15 year old boy. And he got choked up. Because this week we've seen what can happen to 15 year old black boys, and a lightening bolt of fear shot through his heart. 

Haiti, 2007. Nick and his first son.

What is my point in sharing all of this?  Please hear that I am not trying to be exploitative of Nico's struggles. I am trying to share, the best that I know how, a narrative on what it's like these days to be the parent of a black son in America, 2017. I have come to realize that it was only when my son was younger that I could cast my net of privilege wide enough to protect him. And now, as I see that ship sailing away, I am grasping at straws to beg people to hear us.

People have told us that we're overreacting. Maybe.  Or maybe you're not experiencing what we are.  And it is not something that we expect people without "skin in the game" to understand.  We've had a black son for the past 10 years and are just awakened to this reality. I know you don't fully understand.  But please, friends and family members, when you hear stories of racial inequality, please, consider that there are real live people trying to find a way forward. There are young boys like Nico trying to find acceptance amidst near-daily aggression (be it on a micro or macro scale). And there are parents (who love their babies as desperately as you love yours) that are scared out of their effing minds.

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Nico and his best friend. America, 2017.