Tonight as I sat in bed watching the OWN network’s “Where do we go from here?”, I hit a crossroads. Where DO we go from here?

I remember growing up in New York City. I lived in the projects of Chelsea mixed with all colors. I myself come from a Black father and a Puerto Rican mother. I can say my parents were more hippies than anything as most of my childhood was filled with family bible studies and singing in the living room while my dad played his guitar.

We were always taught to love people. Simply people. It didn’t matter the race, economic status, or lifestyle. We loved them.

I watched my mom take in random homeless teens and we spent our holidays taking food to people in the neighborhood. I never really saw color. I saw people.

I didn’t have much of a relationship with my dad’s family. To be honest, I always pegged them as those bougie Black people who felt we weren’t good enough to claim. Always claimed to be so Afrocentric, constantly mentioning our history, but never taking the time to teach us because it was “their history”. It hurt. Made me want to know more, but made me angry knowing they wouldn’t take the time to talk. I wasn’t good enough. To me that said, I wasn’t black enough.

Most of my happy memories in childhood came from my mom’s side. The family dinners, talks, random dancing, and so many laughs. They constantly spoke of family past and present. They made me feel proud to be Puerto Rican.

When I moved to South Florida as a teen, my first memory of church was being called a nigger by one of the kids as my grandfather drove the church van. He did nothing. He himself didn’t think much of black people, but I guess we were the exception since we were related.

My first marriage was a nightmare. The only good thing that came from it was my children and my persistence to have a better life. I remember living in Alabama for four years and seeing first hand what it was like to live on the black side of the train tracks. I had eleven cases of domestic abuse under my belt provided by my ex, but was always dismissed by the court because that was considered the “way of life” out there. At least on the black side. I vowed to get out and raise my children to be different; to break the status quo.

I’m now remarried to the most amazing man. And yes, he’s Black. He’s also smart, caring, a great protector and provider. He’s my best friend. We have four beautiful, smart and caring children. We’ve taught our children to love and respect all people regardless of color, economic status and lifestyle…but has that been enough?

These past few weeks have been sobering for me. It’s brought out feelings I know I’ve tried to bury all my life. Fears I’ve tried to overlook because I know I’m a good person who works hard and respects all. But is that even enough?

I sit here and I find myself praying constantly as my black husband drives over an hour to work. Praying he gets there safe. I find myself avoiding teaching my 16 year old black son how to drive because that means he’ll be out alone with his friends and at risk to be the next George Floyd. I feel like I’ve failed them simply because I chose to avoid the elephant in the room.

I’ve had so many talks with God. So many questions. Why this? Why now? Why is this even something we have to live through and not a memory in the history books that we can look back on and know it’s over? How do we have these talks? How do I tell my kids that they’re at risk of getting looked over, getting followed in stores, being assumed guilty, or even being randomly killed by the very people who are supposed to protect them…simply because they’re black?

My heart breaks with every moment as I watch and hear everything happening. I want change. We NEED change. Not just for us. Not just for those who have come before us. For our kids. For their future.

I refuse to believe that my kids have to grow up and live as adults who still have to tolerate the same poison as previous generations.

The Bible says that people perish for lack of knowledge. To me that says it’s not a choice, but MY OBLIGATION as a parent to teach my kids that racism is not only wrong, but sadly, still exists. It’s also my job to teach my kids to not be of the world, but to be transformed by God and show His unconditional love to ALL PEOPLE.

So can we be mad? Yep. Should we demand justice and equality? Of course! But don’t allow your anger and disappointment in the things happening change your character. We ARE children of God, but God knows, we have feelings. We hurt, get disappointed, become enraged….we’re human.

This is a season where people’s true colors are coming out. Whether it’s friends, family, coworkers, politicians, whatever. See the truth and take it in. Feel all the feels. Cry it out. Scream it out. Talk to God and let it all out. He’s God, He can take it. But when you’ve done all you can do, get up, wipe the tears off your eyes and the snot from your nose, and keep going.

Have those talks with your spouses, your children, your friends and neighbors. If they don’t understand, help them. Not everyone has the same experiences or upbringing. We can’t fault them for it. Stand up for what you believe in and don’t allow fear to keep you silent. Be the best YOU you can be and continue to love through all this hate. It doesn’t matter who’s on your side as long as you can lay your head at night in peace knowing you gave it your all. That’s what matters. Whatever it takes to keep your peace and your path to God clear.

That’s my truth for this season.

Until next time, Be Blessed.

Ishah Whipple