Jackson Free Press

I make no secret that I was raised in a stern Afrocentric household. No straightened hair. No Christmas. No television shows that didn't portray black people in the most positive light.

My father was very intent on ensuring that we knew who we were and where we came from. He wanted us to be aware of this world and its prejudices that were sure to come as we grew older. He wanted us to be prepared for that inevitable day when our blackness smacked us in the face. He wanted us to never be anything less than proud of our heritage and our rights.

When he transitioned, I wanted to make sure that I continued the path he started. I wanted to ensure that his work, his ideas and his passions were not lost.

The burden was much too heavy.

Still, I decided that I would do the work. I would be diligent for my people. I just didn't really know how or what needed to be done. For years, I just said what needed to be said. I wrote a column or two, pleased to upset the racists and the deniers. But, my biggest challenge came March 3, 2010, when I gave birth to a baby girl. While I'd already raised a son, I'd never faced issues that my daughter has begun to present.

"Mommy, I want an Elsa doll for Christmas!" she asked me this year, with absolutely no hesitation. "Frozen" has become a very special movie for us. On nights when her dad is away, she and I have Mommy/Daughter night, and "Frozen" is our go-to movie. I actually love the movie. So, she doesn't know how much strain that one simple question would put on my heart and soul, not to mention my body. Yes, a simple request took me into overdrive.

First, I must not be doing a good job with teaching my baby about Kwanzaa. All she talks about is Christmas. Sure, I put up a tree and some lights. But I also put up Kwanzaa symbols, but I still feel I must have failed my father by not keeping his tradition going.

At her age, I already knew all the principles of Kwanzaa. There were no Christmas lights to add to the confusion. I was going to an all-black school where Kwanzaa was celebrated with no outside influence to recognize Christmas.

Second, I never owned a white doll in my life.

In fact, when I was her age, I already knew the difference, and I didn't even desire a white doll. I had no interest at all. I'd already been taught there was a difference. I'd already been fed the seed of acknowledgement. My innocence in that regard was already gone.

"Well, what about a Dora doll or Doc McStuffins?" I suggested.

I don't want to overtly teach my daughter to hate or to teach her any level of anger as I believe I was taught growing up. I truly believe that not having the exposure to diversity dug a hole in me that I filled with distrust, anger and hatred of anything non-black. I want my child to be aware and prepared, but I do not want her to be angry or hateful. She doesn't deserve the existence it has taken 40 years for me to begin 
to acknowledge.

She taught me a lesson with her response that I simply couldn't deny. This little girl, with eyes wide with promise, knows nothing about the depth of her grandfather's charge to educate young, black children in Georgetown at the Black and Proud School. My daughter, whose grandfather led picket lines and marched through the streets of Virden Addition singing "We Shall Overcome," managed to reach me when she looked at me and, with her final request, rearranged my entire mindset.

"Well, just get all three!" I thought, wow. If only I could be so smart.

I am not my father. Finally, I see that. My charge is to offer my child a foundation that will prepare her for greatness. I can't do that without teaching her who she is and being upfront with her about the world we live in. I can't do that without teaching her the history of our people and telling her about my father and his work in Jackson.

I also can't do that by passing on the years of anger that have conquered me most of my life. I simply don't want that for her. I want her to be well advised and as proud of her heritage and culture as I am. It would also serve my heart well if she could accomplish her own sense of pride without the need to carry the burdens of her mother and her grandfather.

Funmi "Queen" Franklin is a word lover, poet and advocate for sisterhood. She has a weakness for reality shows and her puppy, Shaka.