A Letter to My Future Children
Project 365, Day 27
I do this thing sometimes, where I start writing something and then I never finish it. Manuscripts, letters, poems, essays. I’ll find them scattered in notebooks, scribbled on scraps of paper, or just randomly named on my laptop. Today, I was looking for a photo to accompany a post I’ve been working on, and then I found this. A document I created on June 13 of 2020. Something I meant to complete and send off in an email in newsletter form, and then decided not to. At the time, it felt far too personal. Too raw.
The George Floyd and Black Lives Matter protests were in full effect. I could hardly think straight those weeks, and by hardly, I really mean I couldn’t. I had just enough fuel in my emotional tank to get me through a work day (barely) and then I had to shut down the ol’ brain for the day. But one Saturday, I grabbed my laptop and decided to write something. A letter to my future children. Tell them about this time I found myself living through. A powerful time. Spawned from the worst of circumstances, of course, but I could feel that history was happening right before our very eyes.
Like I said, I found that letter today. I read that letter and I want to share it with you. These are conversations and emotions that need to continue to be had, and continue to be felt. I think about my future children often, what kind of world they’ll live in. And man…I want it to be a good one. So badly. But I realize now, after I re-read this, that the state of the world is always evolving. Always twirling and swirling and the best thing myself and Charles can do is mold ourselves to show them the good of the world through our own eyes and our own lives. There are times where I ignore the fact that their race won’t be quite mine nor quite Charles’. They will be both mine and his. Frankly, I think that’s beautiful, but I also understand that they may feel alone in that. Never Black enough. Never Hispanic enough. Something I can only try to sympathize with, never being able to empathize.
Charles, he’s a talker that one. A thinker. There’s no conversation he’s afraid to have (a quality earned from a family who’s the same), so I know, at the very least, those babies will always have a forum to discuss, ask, feel.
Anyhow, I’m not sure what got me here today apart from that letter. I was just going to share it and throw in a “see you tomorrow, friends” but my fingers can’t be stopped sometimes. Mind of their own, those 10 nubs have.
I’ll quit ad libbing for now and leave you with my letter. Again, this is unfinished. I thought to maybe keep writing it, but I can’t recreate what I was feeling that day. It would be like when you go to patch up some paint on a room that the sun has touched. The wall colors are technically the same, but one is worn while the other is fresh and they have no chance of ever really matching. So unfinished it shall stay.
Something is happening right now. Something that the optimist that lives inside me feels are the winds of change. They’re blowing strong right now, and while I know those gusts will mellow out into breezes in the days and weeks to come, as long as the air keeps moving, there is progress. Dust collects in the stillness.
You might be wondering what spawned this letter. Maybe you already know. Maybe the stories of today, of right now, will long be told. God, I hope so. You see, there was a man named George Floyd who lost his life in the hands of another man who, at some point, swore to uphold and protect the people…but not people like George Floyd, evidently. “But why mama?” you may ask. Because baby, solely for the color of his skin, the same color of your daddy’s skin and maybe even yours, yes, his very life wasn’t held up as equal. When you’re older, I’ll tell you in more words, but for now, if I have to boil it all down into one sentiment, it is that. Black people in this country, across the world, are viewed as less than their white counterparts.
I can only hope that it’s enough change to make you feel safe. Enough change to not have everyday fears of your father Charles walking out the door in the morning wondering if something unjust and horrific will happen to him simply because of the melanin in his skin. Enough change so that you, my children, feel like you belong. That you are worthy. That your brown skin is beautiful and not threatening.
The world feels very ugly right now, but it also feels like it’s rumbling. Rumbling from a deeply seeded rage of inequity that your family and your family’s families have lived through for centuries.
I want you to know that your father and I, we’ve spent years preparing for the home we plan to bring you into. How we will talk openly and honestly with you about how our brown and black family members have had to walk through life. While many of your white friends may not hear about race in their homes until much later, we know that we need to start these discussions early on. To make you aware, to keep you safe. We know life will be harder for you, and you might not understand why. I hope you never have to “understand.” That you can move through life easily, happily, proud of who you are and your heritages because you come from a long lineage of strength. Iron is forged in the fire, after all.
I wish I had written more. I wish I knew where I was going. What more I had to say, but that’s okay. I’ll cut myself some slack. 🙂 Sharing this is very vulnerable, but I’ve never believed in bottled up emotions. The hardest things to say are usually the most important, right?
For anyone who came here for design or lifestyle content, I hope you’ll stay if you like reading my little essays. I’m not apologizing for what I create every day, but did want to bring attention to how Arlyn Says has transformed in the last few months. Well, the last month really. My writing project has cracked open some stuff and I’m going with it! Maybe it won’t always be this way, maybe it will be…who knows. I have no interest in putting myself in a box or a lane. Thanks for following along! Oh, and I’m happy to report that this daily writing is FINALLY starting to feel like a habit. Not an easy habit, but it fits more naturally into my day now. How exciting!
See you tomorrow, friends.
**Featured photo via Mike Dennis. This summer, he released this limited edition print and I grabbed one for myself, never wanting to forget the good people of LA.