By: Amaris Jenkins
Changing Our Narrative
Being a single mother is hard in any walk of life. I chose to step out of my lane and pursue higher learning for my child. Today young, unique, black children are a drop of water in the ocean of college-bound candidates. I knew from day one, I would have to research profitable avenues for mine.
This journey is not without struggles. I knew public school wasn’t going to fight for my child the same way I would. She started in Head Start, excelled her way through a highly-rated charter school, which landed her at a top-rate private school. Now I had help! Working for a non-profit full of black educated men and women who also saw the effort I was putting forward, handed me my first lead.
I was given the information about a program called A Better Chance. This program advocated for minority children with God-given and learned gifts. Be it knowledge, arts, or the gift for sports, A Better Chance is fighting for our children.
I took my daughter to weekend testing sessions and private school interview prepping. The experience was eye-opening but underwhelming because I still didn’t see our black children. We weren’t a drop anymore, but a drizzle. It made me realize that we are our own worst enemy. The resources are there, people, we must stop thinking a “hand out” is your hand out waiting for them to give it to you. We must do the work. The drizzle of us that I had to pleasure of meeting had the pleasure of getting all their children placed in top private schools across the nation. Yes, not just California, we placed around the nation.
My daughter never had a problem fitting in. Her confidence and leadership qualities made her a magnet, but I’ve always worried about that too. Humans have always found a reason to create chaos and doubt when one is admired over another. Going to a school with pupils in a much higher tax bracket brought on different experiences and challenges. I had to sit my little one down and give her the meat and potatoes of this new experience we would both be taking together. Instead of “Don’t give all the supplies I bought you to your little friends,” it was “Don’t feel you don’t have enough, because they have a lot.”
I learned that $100 on her lunch card didn’t equate to “She’ll have lunch for the month,” it only lasted the week. You only had to show me once, we are still brown-bagging it to this day. I’m not trying to keep up with the Joneses, I’m trying to make her equal to the Joneses. I bet you Bill Gates took a sack lunch to school. I have two dollars on it that his kids did too.
As we progressed through middle school on to high school, the experience started to feel familiar. In the ’90s I went to magnet schools. It was the equivalent of private schools for inner city kids in Los Angeles. We had access to everything only private schools can give to kids today. Music, science, the arts; do you know I played the violin, trumpet, and flute from third to fifth grade?
I fell in love with the upright bass from my fifth to my ninth grade year of high school. I played in the orchestra for eight years. Met Yo-Yo Ma at the age the age of eleven. I actually got to play one of Bach’s famous symphonies with him; this was all thanks to magnet schools in the ’90s. Now my child would only be able to experience those kinds of life-changing events in a private school setting that only money can buy.
I bet you’re wondering, girl, you must be Paid! Nowhere near it! I’ve found myself robbing Peter to pay Paul at times. Going without, so she could just go and find out. I’ve seen strong, black, educated power up close, it has no limit. I refused to think playing sports is her only way out. My baby has been learning Mandarin since the sixth grade, she’s five years in, semi-fluent now. Can you believe she chose that language, one of the top five corporate “must speak” languages in the world. Yes, the world, Craig!
My daughter found a good mix of friends. Some born into wealth and some whose parents worked for their wealth, and continue to instill that in their children. I asked her what she thought of her friends and their lifestyles. Her reply was, “I want to live in a space where I make enough to have a maid come in to clean bi-weekly but find the best price on Groupon.” I can’t even be mad at that.
I say all of this because I am a parent that wishes nothing but the best for her child. Knowing what the best is, is the challenge we, as black mothers and fathers, must work on. Material accolades will come with work. We ’80s and some ’90s babies have to get away from that “If my baby wants it, I’m giving it to them” and move back to the “You work for what you want” mantra.
This is my single black mother story. This is my struggle. Working hard so my child cannot just make it out of poverty but have the tools to succeed to wealth. Being a single mother doesn’t define what my life will consist of. Only the choices I make will dictate my journey. Stay strong and stay true to our young black youth, they truly need us to guide them with sense and not nonsense.
