Since obtaining my undergraduate degree I have been committed to changing the world for the better. It was rather sobering to realize not much has changed. I acknowledge that the impact of our work hasn't been as profound as I hoped. I also realized that what had NOT been consistently prioritized is the work we do in solidarity with white people and the work white people do within their own spaces. For good reason, I was (and remain) focused on the collective well-being of Black lives. But that is only half of the work. What needed to happen in other communities so that all children were being raised in ways that prepared them to work and thrive in diverse communities? 

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My fears about the future are not new. When I was living in Las Vegas and Jordan was about four years old, I participated in my first Dismantling Racism training. We were doing an activity called the privilege walk. The last time I did the privilege walk, I wasn’t a mother. This time, at the end of the activity, I was flooded with emotions—fear and sadness—felt more acutely as I looked behind me and saw two Black men positioned so far back they were pressed up against the fence. It wasn’t for their lack of effort as men. It had more to do with systems in place that created their experiences. The thought of my son in his adulthood facing the same outcome frightened me. How could I prevent it? What did I need to do as a parent, as a Black woman, and as a social worker? I didn’t want him to confront the reality of being othered. I wanted to protect him while also taking actions to ensure he and other Black youth did not endure that experience.