I remember watching the video footage of Tamir Rice being shot by the police. I remember touching a hand to my belly, instinctively. We didn’t know your gender yet, and I remember saying aloud, “God, please don’t let this be a boy.”

Not because I didn’t want a little boy. It was all the terrible things that awaited the life of a little black boy that I resisted. That I feared.

I don’t know how to stomach a world that will look at you and not see your beautiful shyness. Your smile made of light. Your bright eyes, hungry to see all that they can see. A world that won’t know your kindness just from a first glimpse of you. That won’t see that you tumbled into this world and brought our lives color and sound. A world that won’t afford you the benefit of the doubt; to be curious; to be lost; to be scared.

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