Let Them Weep.
A Boy Mom on the Tragic Death of Kobe Bryant
I’m a boy mom. A member of a legion of fierce women; equipped with a unique set of skills enabling us to navigate even the harshest terrain of boy bedrooms riddled with chords, clothes and empty Chick-fil-A cups. We can easily be identified by our keen sense of smell, full grocery carts and our ability to re-lace withered hoodie strings without using a wire hanger, safety pin or paperclip. We are #BoyMoms.
By the time my youngest of three sons made his way up the ranks of teenagerdom, I’d further prided myself in being able to pull my SUV just slightly past every door I’d be dropping him off to soon enter, while simultaneously sneaking in a hug disguised as a perfectly mastered fist-bump.
Before you assume — I’ve never obligated my guys to fit into traditional standards of manhood. I’ve never told my sons not to cry. I have encouraged and created spaces where they feel safe enough to express their true emotions. And when they are hurting, I embrace them as they weep. For as long as they weep. I get it. Toxic masculinity is rampant and dangerous. My oldest son has owned more pairs of dance shoes than he has cleats, and it wasn’t too long ago when another son excitedly opened an Easy Bake Oven and claimed it as his prized Christmas gift. I love hard. And for me, that has meant telling them consistently, showing them aboundingly and identifying spaces where they can experience what it feels like to be their authentic selves, whether on stage during a ballet recital or on the field at a championship game.
But as a single mom, I’ve admittedly spent far too many nights worrying that I simply don’t have the tools to ensure they are equipped to navigate the world as the men they are expected to be. Am I setting them up for failure if they are unprepared for the harsh realities they will face? How will they internalize the embarrassment the first time they are publicly told to “man up” by a teacher or coach? Or worse — when their precious lives are in danger because they are considered threats due to their 6’+ athletic frames cloaked in their favorite hoodies, covering their conspicuous brown skin. It’s bad for men and yes, it’s worse for my boys. Research has actually found that the advantages enjoyed by tall white men are largely negated for their counterparts of color. These findings were exacerbated among study participants who generally see Black men as menacing. They strongly suggest what I know to be true, that Black men are viewed as “physically threatening and imposing.” So for our boys, in the world, weakness is not an option.
I sat in disbelief and then silence, like many of you, when hearing of the sudden death of Kobe Bryant. I immediately thought of my sons, one of my closest male childhood friends — a devoted Kobe fan himself, and the countless others who admired Bryant for his athletic ability, role as a committed father and his leadership off the court. And then, I scrolled through my social media timeline. Post-after-post from men, who were heartbroken…shattered. This time, even the “man-up” coach had no words. I listened intently as NBA all-star Shaquille O’ Neal, the epitome of masculinity, allowed his tears to flow on national television. He humbly and profoundly expressed his pain and desire to no longer take this gift of life for granted. And then he did something that I’ve never seen a man do before. When he was interrupted, he paused and commanded that he be permitted to finish.
Death — particularly unpredicted death — stirs up the raw emotion felt from past losses, and it also has a way of causing us to confront ourselves. What is really real? What really matters in my life? How do I really feel? When do the men in our lives ever have the space to express the wide range of emotions that come with being fully human. The answer is rarely, if ever.
So this time, when they send you an unprompted, “I love you” text. When they post an image, quote or song online. When they are quiet, or even when they cry out loud. Don’t laugh, rush them through their pain or tell them to stop. Don’t interrupt them. Just listen.
And let them weep.
