Today is the first day of fall. The time of year where new routines have usually settled, we have found our groove back after a bountiful summer and while the days get shorter cravings for baked goods and the need to cook stew washes over me. But today is different. Today I have no appetite. I am anxious about my children and their safety within the school system. Our oldest is experiencing first hand everything I’ve read about in the books about the treatment of Black boys in public schools. The mistreatment, the punishment, the blame and even teachers using the word scary to describe him —if you know him you probably agree that scary is the last word that comes to mind when describing his gentle being. I’d put kind, generous, loving, funny, smart and sweet first. Believe me, my little boy is not scary just because his skin is dark. We have set a whirlwind in motion and we pray that we have the community on our side. That we can use our white privilege to raise his voice. That we can win over white empowerment and that we can teach our son that we don’t give up and that we will fight for him to the death of us. That he can learn that he too belongs, that he is loved and that his being is valued just as much as the white lives around him. We thought about taking him out of this school but then they will win. And I won’t let them.