Years ago, I wrote an article about the injustices that continue to shape life in America. Today, I find myself writing another one.
Unless you’ve been completely disconnected from the news, you’ve likely seen or heard about Nolan Wells, the young man who went missing last weekend and was recently found deceased. It is a heartbreaking, gut wrenching tragedy, and one that has left so many grieving. I ache for his entire family, especially his mama. No parent should have to endure that kind of pain.
When I wrote my article in 2020, I shared that raising children is hard for every parent. I still believe that. But I also believe there is an added weight that many of us carry while raising Black sons in America.
This isn’t a post meant to divide people or compare parenting journeys. It’s simply a plea for empathy. Allow people the space to grieve, to process, and to express fears that may not be part of your lived experience. They may belong to your coworker, your neighbor, a stranger, or they may belong to me.
You see, I am the proud mama of three incredible little Black boys.
My youngest is every bit the joyful toddler. He loves Bluey, sneaking sweet treats with his grandparents, and soaking up every cuddle he can get. My middle son is our fearless adventurer. He is brilliant, hilarious, full of life, and in so many ways, my little kindred spirit. My oldest is growing up far too quickly. He is a social butterfly with an analytical mind, so very intelligent, dreams of one day playing college ball at LSU, and has a genuine love for history.
They’re great kids. They laugh until their stomachs hurt, argue over toys, outgrow clothes faster than we can buy them, and are beautifully, wonderfully innocent.
Yet at just eight-years-old, my oldest has already had to learn what the N word means because another child called him that at recess.
I remember wishing I could preserve his innocence just a little longer. Instead, we found ourselves explaining that some people may judge him because of the color of his skin, never taking the time to see the “content of his character.” We told him that while we choose to love people unless they’ve given us a reason not to, not everyone is taught to do the same. Sometimes hate is learned. It is passed from one geeneration to the next until someone chooses to break the cycle.
But we also taught him something my husband’s dad drilled into him: You are no better than anyone else, but you are just as good as everyone else. Never let someone else’s prejudice determine your worth or change the kindness in your heart. It’s a conversation no parent wants to have with a child who still believes the world is mostly good. And in all actuality, I already dread the day we’ll have to have that same conversation with his little brothers.
While we don’t know exactly what happened to Nolan, and regardless of the speculation surrounding his death, many of us are gutted for his family. But what has been impossible to ignore is the response. The comments, the arguments, and the willingness to dismiss one another’s hurt have reminded me that prejudice, hatred, and a lack of compassion still exist in our world.
So, even if you don’t fully understand, I ask that you listen. Be willing to hear the experiences of others without dismissing them simply because they differ from your own. Empathy doesn’t require agreement. It simply requires a willingness to see another person’s humanity and acknowledge that their experiences, while different from yours, are very real.
And when the opportunity presents itself, be the change you hope to see. Speak up when you hear racist remarks. Challenge injustices when they show themselves. Teach your children that every person has equal worth and deserves dignity, respect, and love.
Right now, my boys are young. They’re cute, carefree, and full of wonder. But one day they’ll grow into tall men with deep voices. The world will no longer see little boys. It will see Black men. My prayer is that, by the time this happens, they are seen first for their hearts, who they are as people, and the lives they lead, not just the melanin in their skin.
