Diary of An Angry Black Mom in Education

Being a mother angry about education is one thing but to be a black mother angry about education can sometimes get you labeled.

How do I write about good things when the moment you do, another heavy issue arises that negatively impacts our children?

When you write about advocating for black children, you’re deemed too militant.
When you advocate for choice, people say you’re hurting tradition.
When you advocate for desegregation, you sometimes get in trouble with your own.
And all the while I just want quality education for children.

If that makes me seem like the angry black woman, then so be it!

Truth is, I am angry.
Angry that I have to do this fight at all.
Angry that people like to use us as the face to sell their agenda, but then push us in the back room when in the big house.

This work is hard and a black woman is the one to do it and get it done, but give us a break sometimes.

Social media has depicted black women as the reality show types who are either superficial and shallow, only caring about a come up. Or, “you told Harpo to beat me, Iz killem dead before…” type of women who fight all our lives to prove our…. whatever it is we’re fighting for.

I don’t fit either status. I am a woman who loves my sisters, who loves my brothers, who sees the village as being diverse and a place that should educate the whole child.
Don’t ask me to choose sides.
Don’t ask me to choose traditional over charter.
Don’t ask me to be satisfied with small changes while our children still fall behind as if we live in some third world country without the appropriate funding and resources.

Don’t label me when I have a right to be angry.
Don’t stifle my thoughts when you don’t deem them to be what the movement needs. As a matter of fact, don’t ask me to join any movements that won’t allow me to be seen as a woman of value even when I’m mad.

Don’t try to convince me to dis our black brothers cause some of them don’t show up in education fights.
We’ve seen this issue in our own homes.
We’ve got some brothers, though, whose plight is this very fight and I beg to differ when you say otherwise.

By the way, some of y’all men are missing in action too.
Stop dissing our Pookies and Ray Rays; we still need their lives to be safe.

We do this work. The work of stitching patterns together to form a beautiful piece of fabric that we can use to make a patchwork quilt. Every stitch sewn strengthens its foundation — one that can be passed down for generations to come. Passing down our lessons. Passing down every quilt because in each thrown-away remnant we find value. Unraveling at the seams, we add to our beautiful quilt with our ancestors in mind. With the very thought that we all need one another

We do nothing half-ass. We do get tired, but we realize the importance of not giving up. We Can’t Give Up! We just need a good break sometimes. It makes us angry when we know you have what is needed to help us out but don’t give it to us.

Think about that the next time you deem us Angry Black Women or what ever else you choose.

And, no, all of us ain’t got problems with women of other colors. Just don’t think you’ve gotta change to fit in my space. Be yourself, and expect us to be ourselves, too.
Just to let you know, I got some sisters from another mother (another race) who will fight you over me at the drop of a dime and the feeling is mutual.

So now that it’s Black History Month, please excuse me if I post reminders of just how things have not changed for us. I will try in the midst to post stories of inventors, legends and heroes of color but if I don’t just remember I got a right to be angry.

PS, Everyday Black History Is Made

This years Black History Month Posts Are In Response to a Facebook conversation with a man who deemed me unfit to nurture my children and black children in Detroit not worth the fight.


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