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On the Job Training: A Parent’s Gift of Rearing Children and Raising Adults

Listen, let me tell you something—parenting is no joke. This ain’t no 9-to-5 with a lunch break and PTO. It’s a full-time, on-call, soul-stretching job. And if you’re anything like me, you’ve had moments where you just stared at those kids like, “Lord… what am I supposed to do now?”

I’ll be honest—when I became a widow and my girls were just hitting that “pre-teen storm” season, I was frustrated. Whew! That age where they’re trying to know themselves, brand themselves, identify and be seen—it’s a whole mess. That judgey lil' big guuurrrrlllllsss stage. --Lissssteennnn… If you know, you know.

Now here’s the thing about raising Black children in America: the outside world thinks they know our stories. Black mothers, in particular, are usually portrayed one way in the media. And let’s keep it real—it’s not flattering. But those of us in the culture, in the community, we know better. We know the strength, the discipline, the humor, the creativity, the faith it takes. And yet, we’re still fighting off all those tired, recycled stereotypes that were never written by us.

We end up telling our stories in pieces, in stages, sometimes amid ridicule and disbelief. And then, when our sons and daughters finally step into the spotlight, when they shine, when they dare to be the best and the brightest—it’s often met with side-eye, doubt, or folks trying to slap labels on them. Too loud. Too much. Elitist. Arrogant. You name it. That’s the trial of parenting our kids in a world that doesn’t always expect excellence from them, let alone celebrate it.

But here’s the truth: we get it right anyway. Sometimes by ourselves, sometimes under duress, sometimes in family structures that don’t fit the neat little boxes society thinks they should. And when we do? When our kids excel, when they rise? People watch in amazement. They whisper, “How did she do that?”

And the answer is simple—we did it with grit, with faith, with love, with guardrails. We did it because failure was never an option. We did it because we understood legacy.

And don’t let me forget this part—it’s not always just about keeping them fed, clothed, and in school. Some of us are managing extra challenges: learning differences, social pressures, emotional weight unique to each child. And yet—we overcome. That’s what we do.

That’s why they call us “strong Black women.” That’s why people say of our sons, “He made it—against the odds.” And that’s the story I want us to tell more boldly. Because parenting isn’t just about raising children—it’s about rearing adults who will take their place in this world unapologetically, knowing who they are and who they belong to.

So to every parent out there—especially my sisters who feel like you’re doing it alone—know this: you are the author of your child’s future. You are the guardrail, the foundation, the blueprint. You are shaping the narrative, not the stereotypes. And trust me, even when it feels like chaos, you are doing the job. And doing it well.

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