Tonight I’m Glad I Don’t Have A Son………
I haven’t blogged in over a year, not because I haven’t had
interesting ideas to riff on, but with the move from California to Chicago, actually having to commute to work, and adding our 4th little one, life has
absorbed all my free time and energy and kept me from writing.
But tonight, I have to write.
Because for the very first time in my life, I was glad I don’t have a
son.
I’m very blessed to have 4 amazing daughters—they all love playing
and watching sports, are Star Wars fans, bury their noses in comic books, build
with Legos, and love school, especially math and science—and they are so awesome
that I've never missed having a boy. I
have always been more than slightly annoyed when people asked if Doris and I
would “try for a boy” or “miss having a boy” or any of the other incredibly
sexist modes of talking about family composition, not just because I’m a
Sociologist, but because I can’t imagine that the gender of a child would make
me happier because my girls are so great!!!
But after the Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman verdict, I’m
actually glad I don’t have a son. I’m
sure some of my more conservative friends (of all races and ethnicity), will think
I’m over-reacting. That I’m living in
the moment, getting swept up in the politics, but it’s not that at all. If you skew more conservative, you might be offended by what I'm going to say, you might think I'm entirely wrong, or you just might not get it. So be it. Just try to think about being me, an upper middle class Latino, who has lived in very good to great neighborhoods all his life, enjoyed incredible educational opportunities all his life, but in the end, has often been followed in stores, questioned by police, judged by teachers and peers and strangers, all because of my race/ethnicity.
I say what I did above about not having a son because I don't know how I would talk to my son in the aftermath of this case. How would I explain to him the verdict? How would I teach him how to behave in a
similar situation? Because make no
mistake, if I had a son, though he could
be as light skinned as I am, or my girls are, he could just as likely be as “Filipino Brown” (as Gaby would describe
it) as Doris—or darker for that matter.
And he would be walking around predominantly white, middle and upper
middle class neighborhoods in Chicago, or Merced, or wherever the Academy might
take me next. And what would I tell him
to do if someone started yelling at him, chasing him, wrestling with him? Be passive? Not fight back? I've already taught the girls that if someone
is trying to hurt them they yell, they scream, they run, they fight!
So why would there be a double standard if I had a son? Why would I say he shouldn't fight? Because if you get shot, your assailant can say he was afraid for his life, and that's why he shot you? That you have no right to stand your ground, being a young man of color?
And at 17, as a boy, we’re all knuckleheads and get
ourselves into trouble. I’d love to
think my son would never get into a situation where he would have to defend himself,
but if there’s one thing that he would have (as I've seen with the girls) it
would be a high level of sarcasm, and a mouth that can get you in
trouble, and more than likely a pretty strong stubborn streaker, and even quicker temper.
Beyond that, just like me, he
could do stupid things as a teenager. Hell,
there was a time I was hanging with a bunch of guys (who will remain nameless) from
St. Ignatius--which is arguably the best High School in Illinois, and certainly
Chicago, and carries serious egg-head cred—that certainly was full of dumb
decisions. We were running around
Lincoln Park, being loud and stupid and brash and 17. And at some point, we decided to hop into my
Dad’s Mazada 626 to go somewhere, and because one guy was on crutches, and
there wasn't much room, we stuck a guy in the trunk of the car. The damn trunk!!! And of course unbeknownst
to us, because we were rabble-rousing all night, the cops had started following us,
we got pulled over and a dozen or so cops descended on us. Imagine their surprise to pop the trunk and
find another guy in there!! We got off
with a bunch of warnings and lectures, but we were without a doubt doing more
than Trayvon was that night he was shot—wearing a hoodie, walking down the street with an iced tea and Skittles,.
Look, it’s not as if my girls aren't going to have their own
issues that are going to be tough to explain—everything from “Mean Girls”,
unrealistic body issues from the media/society, date rape, preventing teen pregnancy,
workplace gender discrimination, the list goes on and on………it’s what gives me all my
grey!
But I’d never say that someone else has more of a right to
defend themselves than they do, which this verdict did.
I’d never have to say “a hoodie and your skin tone” could
make you a target, which this verdict did.
I’d never have to say “you could get shot and the law really
wouldn't care," which this verdict did.
And I know it’s for all the wrong
reasons, but after this verdict, I am truly glad that I don’t have son. A young man of color that I would have to
raise in this world, and explain all the hypocrisy and injustice that will
descend on him because of the interaction of his race/ethnicity and gender.
To all my friends raising young men of color: good luck, and
may you find some words of wisdom to impart to him as he grows to explain situations
like this. I don’t envy your path
forward, but I know that you will all try your best to keep this sort of
tragedy from befalling him. And that you
probably hugged your sons a little tighter, held them a little closer, kissed
them goodnight a little longer, and said that extra prayer for him too.
