30/08/2025
As a Black Mother, my hardest choice ain’t schools or houses—it’s survival.
Do I raise my sons in the hood, where they gotta fight off people who look like them but hate them harder than anybody else? Where jealousy and pain turn Black boys into targets before they even become men?
Or do I move them to the suburbs, where the faces change but the hate don’t? Where I gotta teach them how to keep their hands visible, how to talk soft, how to pray every time blue lights hit the rearview… just to make it home alive?
Either way, the world already decided my sons are threats before they even had a chance to just be kids. That’s the weight I carry every single day—raising warriors in a world that never wanted them to survive.
And the part that breaks me most… is knowing my boys will always be my babies, yet this world will never see them that way. Society calls them dangerous when all they are is divine. No matter which road I choose, I can’t shield them from everything. At some point, I have to let them go… and pray the universe lets them grow into the men they were born to be. -Sady Bell
