the children of black mothers

my mother was a domestic worker. in her working life time, she raised many white children as well as her own children and the children of relatives.

i’ve wondered why it is that all these other women, the world over, need the help of black women to raise their children? this i wondered while i was standing in a queue on saturday night and there was this indian woman with her baby and a black woman. when this black woman took the indian woman’s toddler from her – to releave the indian mother from the weight of her child – i realised they were madam and nanny. i wondered how many hours she had worked already. it is saturday night and she was working – helping this indian woman with her child is work. i wondered if she had her own children and how often she saw them.

this is the story of many black women the world over. our mothers have mothered the world. black mothers have mothered the world. and the world has given them nothing but high blood, arthiritis, weak hearts and aching bodies. and alienation from their own off-spring.

we owe a lot to these women… i owe a lot to my mother.

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