June 6, 2020

By Kathryn Rhoads Propst

I feel very unqualified to write an article about racism. I am a white woman, raised in Lee’s Summit with a very comfortable upbringing. What can I possibly say to address the horrific stories that we continue to see and hear about in the news regarding the treatment to black men and women? I am a mother who is raising a black son. To be completely accurate, he is a biracial man, but by appearance he is a black man. So I can only share some words that express what a white mother of a black son feels.

The last few months, my mind has been a mess as we hear more reports about injustice to black people.

Racism is real. Always has been. We are just now getting to actually see how bad it is due to technology.

I have been ordering books, reading articles, seeking out ways I can try to help make things better for the black people in this world. In my frantic-ness, I realize just how naïve I have been all these years.

When you are a mom, the most important thing in your world is your family and children. They are a piece of you. I knew raising a black son would not always be easy due to societal prejudices. We have experienced some racism, unfairness, and so many side eyed and judgmental looks. But nothing too major that we could not talk and work through.

I tried, like every other mother, to teach and prepare my son for this world. I laugh now at my pitiful attempts. I made sure to teach him about black culture and history that I found in books. It is important and he needed to know. We had a whole library of children’s books since he was a young boy about Martin Luther King Jr, Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman, oh and of course Michael Jordan’s “Salt in His Shoes” because basketball was his favorite. I think back and I honestly am so embarrassed at my attempts to try to do what I could to teach my son about being black. Because you know what….one of the things that I am absolutely not capable to teach my son is how to live life as a black man. No matter the books, the social groups, the help, I can NOT teach that to him. Because the fact is, I am a white privileged woman.

So as we continue to see and hear just how bad racism is still alive and how black men have to live so cautiously in this world just to be able to go home at night; What does a mother who is so full of fear and love for my child do?

He is growing up and getting ready to venture out in this world on his own. So, I panic…the gut-wrenching panic. I mean more crash courses. More talks.

“Don’t wear your hood up”

“Don’t walk around with hands in your pockets”

“Don’t ever ever run”

“Be prepared to be accused and treated differently than your friends”

“Wear bright colors when working out or going for a jog”

“Do not make any sudden movements, ever”

“For God’s sakes, always always always have your hands out”

And more and more and more…

I bring up the topic of receipts. Receipts of everyday purchases. I had no idea that a black man must live so cautiously that he has to make sure to always get a receipt and bag for anything he purchases…. just in case. Just in case, because he is a black man, he must prove that he made a legitimate purchase. This is astounding to me. This is shameful to me that our world has not progressed to where a black man can make an everyday purchase without thinking about carrying proof as to avoid any possibility of accusations that he did not legally purchase an item.

The real eye opener. My son knew. He told me “Mom, why do you think my car is so trashed all the time. I always get a receipt and make sure to carry it to my car, then I wad it up and throw it in the back.” I could potentially point out that the receipts are not really the only reason his car is so messy, but I chose to keep my parental comments to myself on that one.

As I fearfully continue in my instructions and lectures about how to appear non intimidating with my 19-year-old, big, 6’5”, 230 lbs., brown skinned son…. I finally just stopped and told him; “I am so sorry. I honestly did not know to teach you these things. And I am so sorry that I wasn’t fully aware how black people have to live in this world.”

He just gives me one of his loveable, gentle giant, huge hearted, beautiful warm smiles and tells me “Mom, stop. I already know and do these things. I am going to be okay.” This mama’s heart must trust and have faith that he will be protected, and he will be okay.

In the meantime, the rest of us need to wake up from our naivety. It’s beyond time for us to act.

For my kid. For our neighbors. For all black lives. Every single person deserves to feel that his or her family can live without fear.

Let’s Listen. Let’s Educate Ourselves. And for goodness sakes, Let’s Do Better.