To be honest, I don’t have the spoons nor care to produce my standard “this is a free post” message here. This is a free post. Thank you to all those who joined over the last week. ABA is something that I have talked extensively about over the last few years. All of who I am and how this world treats me is influences how I feel about it. There’s a collection of poems, posts, and essays I put into what I call “Tiffy’s Big Book Of ABA” and it contains far more than this short message of frustration will provide. It’s as free as this post.
“So, you’re okay with abusing your children?”
Spoken to me by someone who ain’t got the range, depth, or stamina to enter this ring and go toe to toe with me. They instead choose to attempt to go for the jugular because they know claims of abuse generate a reaction they find favorable to their cause…shame.
They want to shame me. Someone whose children ain’t in ABA (anymore) and whose Mama was.
They think I can’t discern the nuances of my own life, they must tell me how it is. Tell me who I need to be. What kind of parent I’m supposed to be. And lack the experience and ability to listen to do so.
That ain’t never stopped them though.
But that is whiteness for you. It will claim to know us. All our desires, fears, wants, needs…it claims ownership of. And then tells us, “you aren’t living right.”
Governed through their lens. Lives peripheral to their own. They only see us long enough to tell us what to do.
And they want to tell me what masking is. Tell me what code switching is. Tell me what abuse is. Tell me what ABA is. Tell me that what we do to navigate these systems and this world is an obstacle to their progress, not ours, but theirs.
I’m not trying to blend with whiteness. I’m trying to survive it. I’m trying to mitigate the harm that comes my way, while simultaneously drawing attention to the oppressive systems we are governed by, and ripping them apart.
They want to tell me to kill something that is the symptom of something larger.
They would rather admonish me, but not take to these systems. Not take to their neighbors who have mindsets that maintain these systems.
ABA has never been more harmful to my family than being Black in America has. I have said this numerous times and how so many of y’all get “she just wants to abuse her children” out of this is beyond me.
No, it’s not. I lied. It’s because the statement doesn’t center their experience. They are nowhere to be found here. It’s outside their comprehension and if it’s something they don’t know a thing about, can’t know a thing about, or doesn’t involve them in any way, it’s not accurate…it’s not true…it doesn't matter.
Then they lash out. Then it’s, “you want to abuse your children.”
Right.
Ain’t nobody gonna love these boys more than their daddy and me. Period.
They ain’t trying to understand. They want me to follow their lead based on their life and their trauma, a life I do not know, because they have the audacity to think they are qualified to speak for me. For my children.
I’m thinking of Ralph Yarl, who is fighting for his life because he rang the wrong doorbell to pick up his siblings. Because his skin invites harm. Because ours does. Because this hue is provocative. It’s a source of confrontation and expectation to perform in ways that others aren’t tasked with.
My boys haven’t had the privilege of youth nor the innocence of it. Not for a long time. They have had too many dangerous encounters to name nor count.
This will only get worse as they age. And this ain’t a world in which my children can survive without learning how to mute themselves in some way. They will have to modify their behavior. They will have to change who they are for moments, minutes, hours, etc. They will often walk this Earth as shells of themselves because that is what will keep them safe. They will learn to mask. They will be taught to mask. By myself. By this world.
Because this world isn’t safe enough for them to live freely. And I need them safe. I need them here. I need them here with me. And I need to be here with them.
ABA ain’t ever been more harmful to me than being Black in America has.
And y’all can keep being pissed about my saying this. You ain’t the one who has to figure out how to tell their 14 year son why a 16 year old who looks like him was shot for ringing the wrong doorbell, and then again when he was lying on the ground.
And you ain’t the one with skin they try to harm on sight.
note: I sat down to write about Ralph Yarl. Just Ralph. But I couldn’t, because then I remembered the comments I got about wanting to abuse my children because I called for deeper, meaningful discussions surrounding ABA that treated it as the symptom it was rather than the cause it isn’t. Then I had to answer the questions of my 14 year old with Autism who wanted to know why another child, two years his senior was gunned down.
Another one. Another conversation I had to have.
And then I thought about all the times we have been seen as threats. For just existing. Just standing. Just sitting. Just walking. Just playing. Just laughing. Just getting lost.
Just being…Black.
And I wanted to talk about more. Cause this means so much to us. This is everything to us.
Ralph deserved better.
Our children deserve better.
My heart aches for Ralph and his family. Please pull through.