I watch the world of permissive parenting from behind a glass of self- and socially imposed limitations. I enjoy observing the children’s huge smiles as their parents allow them to explore the world with few restrictions, if any. The benefits of allowing kids to experience the world around us are countless. I know that if I want to raise children with a healthy sense of attachment, it’s the way to go.
Despite my knowledge, I practice a more restrictive set of parenting behaviors. Right now, my children still smile, but I know that one day they will realize how different my parenting style was from their friends’ parents’. Because, unfortunately, many of my parenting decisions are made from a place of anxiety and fear. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be able to comfortably allow my children to participate in the freedom other children enjoy.
As I watch the other children experience the freedom to make mistakes and have the option to just be kids, I feel guilty.
At 3 years old, my son has a sense of what isn’t acceptable during play. And when he violates those boundaries, I have no problem sending dagger-filled glances his way. The looks I give him have been passed down. It’s a powerful glare that was perfected across generations of black motherhood. It’s a connection to my ancestors who limited their children’s actions in an attempt to preserve their existence.
The times of imminent danger have passed, but the fear remains. My son doesn’t know about that world. He hasn’t heard the stories of black children punished for doing normal child things. He just knows I’m stopping him from running with friends, so he cries like a normal kid.
But our world doesn’t see black kids as “normal.” It sees them as future criminals.
from Daily Kos https://ift.tt/2U5UNru
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