Spring is here--at least that's what the calendar suggests--and it's that time of the year in which warmer weather means the kids need to get out and run around. Parents sign their kids up for sports and live out our dreams of being professional athletes through our little ones pretending they're going to be the next big star (Dads definitely do this).
My three-year-old daughter Cydney loves soccer. We've been kicking a ball around in the backyard whenever we've had a chance for a good year now. Plus, I have a friend who coaches in an academy not too far from where I live in Long Island, so I'd take Cydney there every Saturday during the spring and the fall so she could watch and kick her ball on the sidelines. Once I told Cydney she was going to actually play soccer--she's old enough to enroll now--she has been nothing short of turned up.
While I was just as excited, I was also a little nervous. Little known fact: Nassau County one of, if not the most, segregated county in the country. The academy takes place in an affluent part of Long Island that is predominantly white. I knew from going out there all of those Saturdays that Cydney would in fact be the only black child on the soccer team--the only child of any color. She is also the youngest child on the field, so I was wary of being the black guy with the smallest child on the field who already marches to the beat of her own drum.
I wanted Cydney to fit in with the kids--heck, I wanted to fit in with the other parents--and I didn't want to make it obvious that I am there because I am the black parent out there who knows the one black coach. Even writing this out feels kind of odd to me, but as a black male I am conditioned to thinking that everywhere I go I represent my race. With that said, I even put a lot of thought into how I dressed. Until the weather breaks, I pretty much wear Timberland or Nike boots from October until late April. I thought twice about wearing a Yankees fitted cap and almost didn't wear a hoodie. I wound up wearing both because it was cool outside, but I opted for the one with my alma mater on the front as a subtle hint that I am educated and attended a very good college.
Can you believe I did all of that?
By the time we got out on the field, the coaches were happy to have Cydney. She definitely was that one kid who was turning around by herself and in her own world while the game was going on. I couldn't help but be entertained. One coach kindly kept pointing her in the right direction and smiled while doing it. In the back of my head I was still nervously thinking that the one kid doing this was the little black girl. I also felt weird because I was significantly younger than all of the other parents.
But really, none of that mattered. A few of the mothers laughed and smiled saying that Cydney was too cute being in her own little world and someone looked at me and asked how old she was. One parent looked at my shirt and said they knew a couple of people that went my college as well. By the end of the hour, I felt good knowing that Cydney was just one of the girls and I was just one of the parents no matter how much we stuck out like sore thumbs.
As a black man, I can't help but think about race most places that I go. I'm often looked at as an anomaly because I'm a father who has his kid. I'm working on it, but I can't help but think about people seeing me first as a person of color and whatever negative connotations that come along with that--strictly based on stereotypes. While I am okay with this, for the most part, I don't want people to do that to my daughter. She's three. The law of average says that eventually it's going to happen to her as well. I just don't want her first experience of trying something new to potentially be damaging to her in some way. I wouldn't want it to ruin my her dreams of becoming an world class athlete, either.
The post My Child Is The Only Black Child On the Soccer Team appeared first on MommyNoire.