CNN; Published By: Faith Karimi
I was cradling my newborn son one night in November 2016 when I suddenly began to sob. Something had dawned on me that filled me with fear.
I was the mother of a Black son in America.
I was born in Kenya and moved to the US after high school to attend college. I have long felt a conflict between my race and my nationality.
In some ways, I didn’t know I was Black until I came to the US.
That night, as I held my son, Liam, and listened to TV pundits debate what the presidential election results meant for people of color, I felt frightened for his future.
I knew that no matter how he chose to define himself as the son of two Kenyan immigrants, he would be seen first and foremost as a Black man. And I was well aware of the prejudices that come with that label.
Despite living in the US for years and covering incidents of racism as a journalist, I wasn’t sure I was equipped to help him navigate life in a country where race is such a hot-button issue.
With my son’s birth, the dynamic of my life in America changed. I could no longer observe issues of race as a bystander from another country who wasn’t sure where she fit in the conversation. I was the mother of a Kenyan American son and a Black son.
To keep him safe, I knew I had to evolve. Little did I know my son would show me a new perspective on my adopted country. Read more
