Updated: August 2, 2023
Originally Published: July 16, 2023
Most mornings, my teenage daughter, who was adopted from Haiti, has a routine: she checks the world news on her phone and asks if we can go driving. She’s passionate about both.
Yesterday, however, she came out of her room in silence. After a long cuddle—something we cherish less as she gets older—and some time in the kitchen, she took a deep breath and said, “Mom, did you see the news about Malik Johnson?”
I nodded, sensing she wanted to talk. Just then, her younger brother, who was adopted alongside her, walked in, and I noticed her withdraw. She didn’t want him to hear.
It’s a dilemma I face every time I hear of a Black person killed by police or targeted by hate. I ask myself whether I should share the news with my kids. They, my Black teens, need to be aware and remind themselves of the rules to follow if they ever encounter the police. Meanwhile, we, their white parents and sibling, need to be allies and advocates, helping to dismantle the barriers that affect their lives.
Later, I found her on the couch with our dog, searching online for a new phone case. She asked if she could get one featuring a Black power fist or an image of a regal Black woman, an African queen.
She didn’t ask to drive yesterday.
This morning, she woke up and didn’t check the news. “Maybe hold off on reading it for now,” I suggested. “Take a moment. Talk to me.” I hesitated, wanting to protect her from the harsh realities of the world. But soon, she’ll have her driver’s license, a milestone that should be filled with joy.
Yet, I know she is already thinking about the possibility of being stopped by the police. Will she face the same fate as Malik or others before him? Will her image be plastered across the media? Are her social media profiles free of anything that could be misconstrued? These are the heavy thoughts that occupy her mind while driving with her learner’s permit. She doesn’t have the luxury to simply imagine cruising to the beach or meeting friends.
“His name was Malik Johnson,” I will eventually tell her. “He was an honor roll student. When pulled over, he told the officer he was reaching for his ID. But the officer shot him anyway.”
As I prepare to have this difficult conversation later, I order her the phone case featuring the Black queen, and I throw in the one with the power fist too. It feels trivial, but it’s the best I can do in this moment.
Later on, she will imagine the pain of Malik’s family, and her own. She will think of herself. I suspect she won’t ask to go driving today.
In situations like this, it’s vital to have open dialogues and to equip our children with knowledge while also fostering their sense of identity. For more insights on navigating these discussions, check out some of our other blog posts, like this one on home insemination.
Ultimately, creating a safe space for conversations about race and identity is essential for all families. Resources like this one from NHS can be incredibly helpful in providing guidance on sensitive topics.
Summary:
In this reflective piece, Jenna Collins explores the challenges of discussing race and police interactions with her Black teen daughter. As her daughter prepares for her driving license, Jenna grapples with the weight of current events and their impact on her family. Through thoughtful dialogue and awareness, she aims to foster understanding and resilience in her children while also highlighting the importance of allyship and identity.