“Now don’t start smelling yourself up in here!”
I doubt there is a black person on the planet who hasn’t heard these words dance off the lips of their mom or dad. But for my white brothers and sisters, let me explain. The expression, loosely translated, means: “You are not all that!” or in old-school parlance, “Don’t get too big for your britches!”
When I was growing up, we knew there were many things Mama would not suffer. Ashy knees and elbows. Public outbursts. Lies, bent truths, misrepresentations of any kind. But if we got to acting all high and mighty—under her roof—well, let’s just say, things would not end nicely.
That’s why you may hear a collective “whew!” across America right now coming from Black moms. We now know, for sure, that our Mamas got it right. Probably there is some high-fiving in beauty parlors and nail salons right about now. Somewhere a black woman turned to her best friend and said, “Okay?” And said friend replied, “You already know!”
Let us savor the moment please. Usually the news is not good for us when headlines and the blogosphere are all over a story. This is different. And I’m glad. Sort of.
According to a recent study by the National Academy of Sciences our nation is currently raising a generation of narcissistic kids—children who are receiving the message from their parents that they are “more entitled,” or “more special” than other kids. We black parents don’t have to worry about that. Black parents in America don’t raise narcissists. Never have. Probably never will.
Sadly, black folks have never had the luxury of over-valuing our children. Sure, we love our kids just as much as whites. And we fill them up with affection as best we can. But it would be downright reckless and dangerous for us to fill their heads with such utter nonsense. To set them up with expectations that the world is waiting to embrace them and all their awesomeness. History has shown us that if we want to keep them alive, our kids must be taught, and taught early, that teachers, police and other authority figures may see them quite ordinary—at best.
If us black parents happen to indulge our children with praise, it is not to make them feel better than their counterparts. It is to make them know they are stronger. We can ill-afford to waste our time stroking their self esteem. We are too busy making sure they can thrive and survive in a world that may undervalue them. So we say, “Yes, baby. You are special. I know it. You know it. And so does the good Lord who so divinely made you so. But, be careful out there. The world will likely challenge your unique beauty every step of the way.”
Shares