I Worry About Almost Everything…But Not This

As a mom, I worry all the time. As a mom with high anxiety, there are literally not enough minutes in the day for me to worry (so I don’t sleep).

I worry if Sutton is eating enough. If she’s eating too much. Is she drinking enough water? Enough milk?

I worry she will never start walking. I worry about all the ways she can get into trouble when she starts walking.

I worry about every scratch and bruise and scrape.

I worry that she will be bullied or teased. I worry she will be a bully.

Before we found out we were having a girl, when people would ask us what we were hoping for we would respond with the cliche (albeit true) “We just want a healthy baby.” But, when we were being honest, we would admit that we really wanted a baby girl.

However, right before our gender ultrasound there were a lot of revolting stories coming to light as part of the “Me Too” movement. I began to think that as much as I wanted a girl, a white, male baby would likely have the easiest path in this world. I hate to admit it, but unfortunately it’s true.

You know what I’ve never had to worry about? The color of her skin.  

With ninety-nine percent certainty, Sutton will always be white. She will be raised in an upper middle class home in suburbia with two college-educated, binary, white parents. This privilege is not lost on me.

I worry about her being a woman. I worry about the type of men she may meet, or date, or god forbid, marry. I worry about her growing up too fast. I worry about her getting in the wrong type of man’s car. Or taking a drink from the wrong type of man. (Yes, I know I have a long time before I really need to worry about these things but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about them in the middle of the night.)

But, I know that if she gets into trouble, she can count on the police system to help her. To listen to her. To believe her. Because of many things surely, but also because she is white.

I don’t need to worry about her being seen as a threat or a danger to the community simply because of her skin color. I don’t need to worry about her life being taken during a routine traffic stop. If she’s out for a run at night, I’ll worry, but not because I will be afraid she’ll be framed as a burglar and shot.

I have not watched the video of the horrific murder of George Floyd. It may be naive, ignorant and self-serving but I can’t stomach it. And, I don’t think watching a life be extinguished is healthy for me right now. Again, the privilege I have to choose is not lost on me. George Floyd did not have a choice.

My voice is not the one that matters right now but I couldn’t continue to say nothing. My heart hurts. My head hurts. My stomach hurts. But, seeing people across the world come together to say no more is powerful. If it was a different time, I would take Sutton down to the protests to show her that the world can unite in beautiful ways. That change is possible. That change is coming.

But for now, I will raise her to be kind. To be accepting. To celebrate differences.

I will worry if she’s eating enough colors of vegetables, but not about the color of her skin.

I will worry about her screen time, but not her life expectancy.

I will worry about her growing up, but not worry that as she grows the world will perceive her differently, even dangerously.

And I will hold her close as long as she will let me. Black Lives Matter.