What does it mean to root for black love? Historically and culturally, what instructions — whether explicit or implicit — do black women receive about what it means to love black partners?
Heteronormative messaging tends to be patriarchal. It begins with “Let a man be a man” and often seems to end with encouraging women to have a high threshold for ambivalence and a tolerance for anger, indifference, or outright emotional/physical abuse — all in the name of maintaining the appearance of a “healthy,” “intact” black family.
When the lovers in question are poor, the effects of this messaging are particularly stark. If we’re taught that we’re supposed to be fiercely loyal to the cause of loving a population of men who are routinely demonized and whose frequent incarceration and murder reinforce the idea that romantic love isn’t a worthwhile currency in our community, the odds are rarely in favor of maintaining a successful relationship.
This has never stopped us from trying — but for making the attempt to do what we’re constantly encouraged to do (love “at-risk” partners off a self-destructive ledge), we’re criticized. When love and hope are in low supply, and we respond by attempting to re-infuse it, we’re called irresponsible. We’re told we should’ve known (and behaved) better.
It doesn’t matter if both partners are born into a toxic, self-destructive environment and left to survive it as best they can. Prevailing advice is to treat love and partnership and childbirth with an ascetic’s detachment if they’re ever to “overcome their environments” and become an inspiration to the black community at large.
Recently, the Philadelphia Inquirer published a story on the results of a longterm study about babies suffering from gestational cocaine addiction. The big find: childhood poverty is more damaging than in utero addiction. Though the entire article is illuminating, the part that struck us most profoundly here at Beyond Baby Mamas was this:
[Researchers] found that 81 percent of the children had seen someone arrested; 74 percent had heard gunshots; 35 percent had seen someone get shot; and 19 percent had seen a dead body outside – and the kids were only 7 years old at the time. Those children who reported a high exposure to violence were likelier to show signs of depression and anxiety and to have lower self-esteem.
When we think about and listen to the women in our online community, sharing their relationship narratives, a recurrent theme is that some of their erstwhile partners and/or current co-parents fall into categories of early childhood exposure to the traumas listed above.
As we’ve seen demonstrated most recently by CNN anchor Don Lemon, when mainstream media decides to address the “breakdown of the black family structure,” it does so through a lens of moral failing — and in so doing, it inadvertently reinforces the idea that poverty is a moral failing. The bottom line then becomes: poor partners don’t deserve to start families.
They should get themselves together first.
Researchers rarely study the rate at which romantic relationships and children — families, however they’re structured — keep those for whom emotional detachment is necessary to survive from giving up entirely. But there’s a case to be made for it. Consider the Camp Diva annual Father-Daughter Dance at Richmond City Jail, where the sheriff insists: “When fathers are connected to their children, it is less likely that they will return.” Consider the story of Oscar Grant as dramatized in Fruitvale Station. It was love — his mother’s, his daughter’s, his partner’s — that propelled him toward wellness. Consider any number of stories involving an arrest or a murder in an impoverished community. Who fights for the survivors? Who maintains the legacy of the deceased? Who visits the prisoner?
Insisting that the black community would be better off if it stopped having children before marriage or without proper financial planning often sounds like asking those of us whose living conditions diminish our will to live to deprive ourselves of any hope for a better life, for subsequent generations.
If you’re trying to figure out why the poorest of black and brown communities continue to procreate against all odds, think about what children represent (and what they are) for so many families. If you’re wondering why the poorest partners in black and brown communities don’t marry their partners, think about how difficult it is for the most disenfranchised and marginalized among us to maintain healthy relationships without money, emotional support, family counseling, and the other very necessary resources they would need to thrive.
Most importantly, think about how we can counter the lifelong effects of early childhood trauma, related to poverty, in our own communities. That would be infinitely more effective than telling black women to stop having babies.
Related reading:
Kiese Laymon – “How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America: A Remembrance”
Kathryn Edin and Maria J. Kefelas – Promises I Can Keep: Why Poor Women Put Motherhood Before Marriage
Roberta L. Coles and Charles Green – The Myth of the Missing Black Father
Solangel Maldonado – “Deadbeat or Dead Broke: Redefining Child Support for Poor Fathers”
Zahid Shahab Ahmed – “Poverty, Family Stress, & Parenting”
Stacia L. Brown is founder of Beyond Baby Mamas and editor-in-chief of BeyondBabyMamas.com.
beyond baby mamas 
Reblogged this on When Nerd Meets Sexy….