Tamara Y. (Williams) Conaway

I take pride in my children. They are truly my Achilles’ heel. I am the kind of mom who refuses to make excuses. My children come first, and I expect them to grow up strong and healthy because, after all, I invited them into this world.

They are my guests for a short time, but their childhood will set the course of their entire lives. If their launch is bad, then their ride will be a bumpy one, so I work hard to give them good, sound memories rooted in love.

I watch other parents strive to give their children wonderful childhoods. Many allow their own experiences to shape their decisions about how to best raise their children. Unfortunately, racism can play a large part in many parents’ plight to give their children the best.

I have watched many parents tolerate my children through the grit of their teeth because the kids are too young for them to insist they only make white or Asian friends. I watch the parents of my children’s friends more than I watch the kids because I am also trying to protect my children against the poison of racism. I cannot tell you how many times I have had to sit back and watch an innocent child play with my children with open arms and gleeful joy while the parents looked on with disdain and scorn.

It really becomes apparent when my children bring it up in conversations. They say things like, “Mom, I don’t think my friend’s parents like me.”

We live in a society that does not always value the innocence of childhood equally. Some children are given the benefit of the doubt, while others are judged before they even open their mouths. As a mother, it breaks my heart, but it also fuels my determination to raise my children to know their worth, stand tall, and lead with kindness—no matter how the world chooses to see them.