Living Like We're Bulletproof

Despite the tone of the following words, I promise you that this post is about love. It's about the search for satisfaction and the desire to be better. Ultimately, this post is about hope.

If I turn on the news and hear of another young black male getting shot, stabbed, killed...I don't know what I will do because I can't take it...*insert tears*. I am the mother of sons and I have a husband, brothers, nephews and male cousins, friends and students who all mean the world to me. The world. And that is why it breaks my heart that young, black men feel as if they are born into the world with expiration dates on their foreheads, that they are born to live only until they die. It saddens me beyond measure that these boys feel that 21 is the new "winter" of life. What the heck is going on?

There are so many young black men who struggle with identity (sexual and racial), with image (self and public), with violence (internal and external), with subjugation (cultural, intellectual and financial), with *insert -ism*. It is HARD out here to be young, black and male. Say what you want, but it's the truth.

If I hear another woman say that she is both father and mother to her child, I am gonna holler *a la Marvin Gaye style*. Women, we can't be mother and father to our children, but I get what you mean. You mean that you have had to fulfill all parenting responsibilities alone because the proverbial "baby daddy" or ex-husband has left you and baby high and dry. I know your pain because I have been there.

I see you struggling raising little Jr. to be the man of the family, but he can't be. Let that child be a boy. Let that child be a child who is not bumping his head on the ceiling of his so-called actual possibilities (James Baldwin "Sonny's Blues" reference). Don't poison that child with stories of the man who left; that has no bearing on who he will become. Water him with stories of greatness and possibility. Shame on the males (I can't say men) who leave their sons (and daughters) without the benefit of their influence. (SN: This is not a post about women who deny their children relationships with their fathers; that's a different post).

This post is a post about love because I love Black men and boys, but I am afraid for all of my brothers. I know some great men (I'm married to one) and I know there are some beautiful brothers who are triumphing over the struggle in every moment (I'm surrounded by them). But I am scared because we are living in a world where race is a factor in the high numbers of black male deaths even as we claim to move forward in a so-called Post-Racial America. I know that there are black boys and men who speak truth to power and who excel in every moment. I even wrote about one here. I know about the beauty and strength of black males.

I envision a world where mentors for Black boys are plentiful. I envision a world where fathers are present in their sons' lives whether they live with them or not. I envision a world where manhood is as natural as breathing. I envision a world where Black men aren't hunted, but where they are celebrated for all that they contribute. I envision a world where black boys get past the fourth grade in school and don't give into the fourth grade failure syndrome (check out Jawanza Kunjufu). I envision a world where Black boys remember the Tuskegee Airmen or the baseball players of the Negro Leagues or W.E.B DuBois or Paul Laurence Dunbar or... *insert any positive Black male reference that we learn too little about in schools*.

I want to challenge folks to get involved in the life of a young Black boy. Mentor a young man today and present options to him that may not be apparent. Feed his soul with the taste of success. Stoke his mind with interaction that is intellectually, spiritually, emotionally and mentally satisfying. I envision a world where young Black men return to the kingly positions of their ancestors. What will you do to help?

The Future