Fun with Black History Month

In addition to February forever being known as the month Clair Davis was born, it also has another claim to fame.

It's Black History Month!

I have conflicting thoughts about Black History Month and have since I was in high school. But my boys have been learning about famous African Americans in school and seem to enjoy it, and some neighbors hosted a "Black History Month" costume party at their house this weekend, so I've been getting into it more than usual, for the kids' sake.

I agonized over what to have the children be for their costumes, because I didn't want to buy anything, really, and I also didn't want to be so Martin Luther King/ Rosa Parks obvious.

In the end, we decided to have Dean be Thurgood Marshall, because he's a truly great historical figure (hello, Brown vs. Board of Ed) and he's from Baltimore. Holla!

And we opted to have Cary be Tommie Smith, who is more famous for this iconic picture (a favorite of my Dad's) than he is for what he actually did, which was to win the gold medal in the 200-meter dash in the 1968 Olympics.

With the help of my Mom, who quickly pulled together two pieces of black fabric for a judge's robe, a store-bought gavel and mustache and one of Lester's ties, we turned Dean into the first black Supreme Court justice.

And with a University of Maryland track jacket and pants (which once belonged to Russy) that we plastered over with hand-drawn "USA" patches, an American flag from the dollar store, an old medal we had hanging around from one of Lester's work events and a black glove, we turned Cary into one of the most enduring, and controversial, symbols of the 1960s black power movement.

Cary thought being in costume meant he had to scare people. So he kept going up to folks at the party, talking like Cookie Monster and pretending to eat them. Dean was too focused on not tripping over his judge's robe to do much else.

But they had fun listening to the African storyteller (Maria Broom, of The Wire, which was really cool!) and playing with all the other African-American greats-in-miniature. And I'm glad now I put my silly issues aside, and didn't blow this off. 

Giving your kids the best you can, Part 2

Lester and I both want the best for our boys. We see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but on that shared value, we see whole-body to whole-body.

Unfortunately, on our salaries and in this old, underfunded, segregated city, "the best" -- when it comes to education -- quite often means "private." And "private" quite often means "majority white."

Lester and I are both people who pretty much grew up in majority-black cities, schools and environments.

But both of us were able to break out of the clannishness that kind of upbringing fosters to become great friends with people of all races and backgrounds. I absolutely adore my colorful plethora of friends. I love it that it doesn't matter to us what color someone is, or what religion or from what tax-bracket: We all love one another and accept one another and celebrate our differences and our commonalities. Many times, when we're hanging out with a big group of our friends, I think: "This is what the world should be like."

But, unfortunately, it is not. In fact, the world is far from what our circle of friends is like.

And so, we worry when we think that, in order to give Cary, Dean and Clair the very best education and experiences, we might also be ordering up for them a lifetime of isolation, discrimination, forced assimilation or feelings of inadequacy.

I know this can happen, because it happened to me. I wrote this article years ago on the anniversary of the historic Brown vs. Board of Education court case, which ordered the desegregation of schools. In it, I describe how being a part of a desegregation order myself changed my life for the better but still left behind in me feelings of inadequacy.

I wouldn't change the experience, not for a minute; I believe it helped shape who I am today. But I worry so much about my kids having to go through life trying hard to fit in, and feeling "less-than" if they don't. That's just one small advantage of growing up in a majority black environment. At least we know they wouldn't feel so "other." But, sadly, that's not enough of a reason to choose the childhood Lester and I experienced over the much more multi-cultural one we are trying to create now.

When President Barack Obama was elected, Lester and I hugged each other hard and cried. This historic election meant so much for us, for our families, for the children we would eventually have together. But we knew it wouldn't mean a true "post-racial" society, as some have suggested. We doubt such a thing will ever happen -- at least not in our lifetime. But for our children's sake, my goodness how we wish it were so! How we pray every day for our children to be recognized the world over as just as valuable, just as worthy, just as smart, just as beautiful.

That's why it hurts so much when a teenaged boy -- the same color as my boys -- gets shot and killed in a gated community for the crime of "looking suspicious."

That's why it stings when people say they won't go see a movie because a beautiful black girl -- with brown skin like my daughter -- was cast as a beloved character.

It shows that no matter who the President is, no matter where we live, no matter what schools we send them to, no matter how well we teach them to behave, speak well, work hard, love people, be respectful, stay out of trouble and honor God, their families and themselves -- no matter WHAT we do to prepare and protect them -- someone out there will see our wonderful, curious, delightful, sweet, hilarious babies and think "criminal," "scary," "untrustworthy," "value-less," "stupid," "ghetto," "ugly," "target."

So what do we do?

Our parents' way of handling things was to keep us -- for the most part -- sequestered in majority black communities. Even today, our families interact with folks from other races very, very little. It's a self-segregation for protection's sake. Though I understand it's origins, it's sad, I think. And limiting.

And it also is NOT who Lester and I are. It's not who we want our kids to be. I would abhor a life lived in such a monotone.

So we will do the best we can to give them the best we can -- in terms of education and socialization, community and character, values and principles, faith, finances, family and friends. And we will do the delicate dance many black parents before us have done, letting them know the unfortunate truth that there are people out there who will see them only for the color of their skin -- and make negative assumptions about them because of it. But also that many, many more people will accept, celebrate and love them neither because of nor despite it. Like the friends of ours they will come to know, those people will love them just for who they are.

We hope they will be aware of prejudice, discrimination, racism, bigotry, fear and ignorance, but not be stymied, crippled or in any way hindered by it. We pray they will shine and succeed in spite of it. We hope they will love the skin they're in, their hair, their noses, their far-from-privileged ancestry. We pray they will create for themselves a life full of beautiful people of all races, backgrounds, religions and cultures.

If Cary, Dean and Clair do that -- and God-willing, they will -- we will know that we have done for them the very, very best that we could do.