When Our Children Are Afraid

I stopped to get gas this morning at my local Mobil gas station on Detroit’s Westside.  While pumping my gas I noticed a thirty-something black male dressed in a black t-shirt, gray shorts and gym shoes pacing around the station. You see all kinds of folks at gas stations in Detroit. It’s not uncommon to see young people gathering near the gas station buying pockets full of snack foods before catching the city bus.  You see seniors and others moving about their way heading to work, shopping or home.

When I stop at a gas station I follow a drill – always keep your eyes open for strange activity, don’t get distracted, eyeball everyone – people, cars and license plates if possible, know your exit points and don’t look like a target.

I pumped my gas keeping a keen eye on the pacing guy.  When I was finished I went into the station to pay – the man followed behind.

I handed the attendant my money, collected my receipt while keeping one eye on the man – knowing he was now standing between me the station entrance and my daughter inside my truck.  I walk out of the gas station, got into the truck, squeezed out some anti-bacterial gel on my hands – gas pumps are a bad place to pick up nasty viruses, started the vehicle and put the truck into drive.

At that moment my daughter who also had been observing the pacing man saw him come out of the gas station and asked, “Daddy, why is that brown-man wearing a black t-shirt and shorts?” My daughter’s question kind of took me by surprise but I answered “well Rielly some people like to wear the color black and he can wear whatever he wants.”

“Is the brown-man going to kidnap someone, Daddy?” asked Rielly. Damn, then it hit me. My daughter at the tender age of 6 had defined this black men wearing dark clothing as sinister. I looked at her through my rear view mirror perplexed and wondering how did this happen? At what point did my daughter start to pass judgment on a group of people within her own culture.

The national hangover from the George Zimmerman not guilty verdict had us all taking about race relations in America.  I have friends who are trying to have meaningful discussions with their African-American sons in a way that reminds them although we have a black President of the United States, your skin color and how you dress could be the difference between life and death.

The question I am asking today is what do we tell our African-American daughters? What messages are our daughters picking up about black men? I try to be an example everyday to my daughter for how a man should carry himself. I am not perfect, but I am a God-fearing, loving, giving and educated man who works hard to provide for my family and give back to my community.  I was raised in a military family so showing respect to my elders always starts with “Sir, yes sir or no ma’am.”

Maybe instead of worrying about how others feel about us, it’s time for us black men to work on an image makeover, start respecting ourselves, start looking the part and clean up our act before demanding respect from others.

Just one dad’s prospective.

David Rudolph is a native Detroiter and the founder and managing partner at D. Ericson & Associates Public Relations in Detroit. A graduate of Michigan State University and Florida State University, he loves to scuba dive and whitewater rafting. David lives in the city with his wife and daughter.