There’s this guy that I love. His nose was the first thing I noticed when we met. Nothing distinctive about it but how it fit his round face perfectly while matching the formation of his lips. I watched him eat a bacon cheese burger on our first date. I stared at his mouth move as he laughed in between chews and conversation. His voice deep as baritone and his words articulate. He was quite the gentlemen that day.
I never guessed that he’d call me that night. It’s almost two years now since we’ve met. A lot of growth and learning. Didn’t know that I would love him. I love him so much that I thought of children with him. Birthing a sweet baby boy that would have his big toe and we’d call him junior for short since it’s only right to name him after him.
But this man that I love, has skin of pure melanin. I’m amazed at how beautiful he looks in the morning as the sun kisses his skin when it beams through the windows. I think about if God wanted us to parent a child together and that our child will have his skin, or skin as dark as mine.
It’s the scariest thought. I find myself praying for the man that I love more than I pray for myself. He’s not safe and neither is my son.
God gave me a uterus that one day, with his help, bare a child that shall be black like me. I am reminded everyday that I am “different” since I entered this world. This isn’t about magic or who’s lives matter. This is about my perspective and as I stare at my black skin, it’s a reminder of how scary it is to be black.
How will I teach my sweet baby boy about this world and the racism that he’ll endure?
How will I teach my sweet baby boy that the system is made to be against us?
How will I teach my sweet baby boy that safety isn’t always adherence?
How will I teach my sweet baby boy about injustice if he has to see his father’s death on a computer or phone screen?
How will I teach my son to be a man if they take his father away from him?
More importantly, how do I teach my daughter that it’s okay to birth a son if she watched her father’s murder?
Usually I limit my conversation on these topics but I love a man with a whole lot of melanin. My highly melanin skin comes from the first man I’ve ever loved that also fathers two men with highly pigmented skin. Something has to be done and very soon.