Demanding More For The Future Black History Makers And The Mothers Who Birth Them

As Black History Month comes to a close I've been reflecting on the history of black women as mothers. Thinking about our legacy as the women who tirelessly carried our families and communities. Mothers who didn't listen when the world said we were thoughtless breeders and our children were mere commodities to be bought or sold. In more recent history, black mothers have been publicly shamed as crack mothers, welfare queens and the face of "baby mama drama." Black single motherhood is blamed for all sorts of social ills from crime to drugs to "wilding" teens. And black mothers are often represented in popular culture as neck-rolling domineering household managers who run circles around our men.

Let's face it. The historical misperception of who we are has not been very flattering.

But I'm asking you to stay true to what you know: These stereotypes are very far from the truth. In truth, black women today have redefined black history and created a new conversation about our roles as mothers. For example, when I watched the Brady Bunch and Happy Days and reruns of Leave It To Beaver, the subtle messaging was that being a stay at home mom and catering to your child's every need was a white woman's pleasure. Black women have always worked--as slaves, as cleaners, as teachers, as doctors, as lawyers. Even our TV mamas (Claire Huxtable included) always worked outside the home.

Today more and more black women are stay at home or work at home moms (myself included), we have robust national organizations like Mocha Moms http://mochamoms.org/ to support women who are making motherhood their career (even if just for a few years or so).

We have a First Lady who epitomizes everything modern black motherhood is about, career success, loving partnership and commitment to being the mom-in-chief of your own family command center.

This shift in our motherhood experience may seem subtle, but in the framework of our history, it is groundbreaking. And thrilling. It not only speaks to how far we have come as a people, but how far we have come as black mothers, who went from having no control over our children to taking control of our children, our lives, and our families' financial future. We now have varied and different motherhood experiences yet we still know we are doing important work that goes well beyond our home.

Yet, there is much work to do. We still need to increase our breastfeeding rates, to give our babies the healthiest start in life and improve our own health as mothers. We need to demand answers to why our maternal death rate is double and is some urban cities seven-times that of our white peers, and start questioning the quality of care we receive.

As we celebrate our history as black Americans, we must protect the next generation of black history-makers currently growing in wombs across the nation. And we must demand better care for the mothers who bring them into the world.

Single and Pregnant: Telling My Story

 I've committed my life to talking about Black women having a "fabulous" and powerful pregnancy, but to be honest, there was nothing fabulous about how my pregnancy journey began.

It was the summer right before I was to begin the Knight Bagehot Fellowship and do my Master's at Columbia University and I went to London to spend the summer with my girlfriends and my new British boyfriend. Well, let's just say I came home with more than just a hankering for tea and biscuits.

We were both shocked and it was a heavy burden for a relatively new relationship. When I told my parents, my father cried. Even though I was 29, on my own and with a very successful career, it was a big family disappointment for where others saw my life going. When you are put on a pedestal, any fall is always a harder fall.

Then I got the phone call. Weeks after coming to New York for my first prenatal visit, my baby-daddy (who, just to keep you confused, I later married and am now divorcing) called to say that he couldn't deal with an unplanned pregnancy, he was confused, yadda yadda yadda . . . he's out of there. The next time I would see him, my daughter was 11 months old.

At this point in my life, I redefined loneliness. I had lost my deepest friendships, was disfellowshipped from my religious community, I had been abandoned by my child's father, my mother (because of her religious beliefs) was not able to support me, and I was in one of the most challenging fellowship programs there is. I cried every day for weeks. No seriously, every day.

And because I suffer from "Strong Black Woman" syndrome and like many of you, wear the reputation of the entire black race on my back, I refused to tell any of the truly wonderful people in my fellowship program that I had become another black statistic: Unwed mother. Absent father. Instead, I launched a black male PR campaign full of stories of his involvement, excitement, and "sorry, you just missed him" visits. Geesh!! How exhausting! (Btw, when I finally came clean with them several months later, they were the most supportive bunch ever!)

My sister said that as a "student" I could probably income qualify for WIC to help with the high prices of healthy food in New York City. And I will never, ever forget the day I walked to 125th Street and into that Harlem office and got WIC. (That is another blog!)

But I knew this baby only had me. And I was scared as hell. I knew I had pretty much no one to count on to help me through this pregnancy but myself. And so I began to research everything. In my researching to save my sanity and help my baby, I stumbled upon the sobering statistics about black women and our high rates of low birth weight and pre term pregnancies that inspired me to write my first book, The Mocha Manual to a Fabulous Pregnancy years later.

With the help of some great new friends, a few old ones, my sister and a lot of prayer, I survived the darkest period of my life and still had a "fabulous" pregnancy. Having a "fabulous" pregnancy is all about your mind set and nothing about your circumstance. I finished my coursework early, delivered Kayla on schedule and walked down the aisle with her in my arms to receive my Master's Degree a few weeks later. I was able to have a successful freelance career, buy a new car, get a great apartment and stay home with my little one. And I never asked for a dime (or pence) from her father. She is still my Triumph Baby.

Do you have a triumph baby? Did you overcome your circumstances to still have a "fabulous" pregnancy? I'd love to hear your story.