LIFE
We The Americans - Part 1
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
Preamble to the Declaration of Independence
“In the context of racialized oppression, one of the most defiant acts is also one of the simplest: having a family. Broken relationships characterized the African slave trade through emancipation… In the context of white supremacy, the Black family has always been a sort of miracle.”
The Spirit of Justice: Stories of Faith, Race, and Resistance
Jemar Tisby
In 2009, at the age of 20, I found out that I would be a father. As a college sophomore, I thought life was mine to conquer. I was the Student Government Association President, had a full-ride scholarship, and had numerous opportunities in front of me. So, why was I standing outside my school on a hot mid-May morning crumbling? This was not how it was supposed to be. As William Ernest Henley penned in his famous poem Invictus, I was supposed to be “The master of my fate and the captain of my soul.” But standing outside that school, learning that I would become a father was not in my plans and would radically change my life.
In America, the percentage of unmarried women and men has rapidly increased over the last three decades. Take a look at the chart below from Child Trends.1
As these percentages have grown, so has the strain on schools, families, government programs, and family-serving institutions. The normalization of this has cast doubt on what's known as "traditional marriage, "marriage between two consenting adults, one male and one female.
As one of these unmarried Black people, I found myself spiraling. How could I navigate the complexity of raising a child when I was so young with someone I barely knew? I found the beginning of an answer in the ultrasound room of one of those centers that offers free family planning advice to people in crisis pregnancy situations. I can still see the smiles on the receptionist and technician's faces. They were so kind. So gracious. So understanding. They didn't judge us but genuinely wanted to help us navigate this uncertain time. They also invited us to participate in parenting classes where we could receive encouragement and advice and build community with others in a similar situation.
Attending these classes allowed us to learn more about what it meant to be a mother and father, even though we were unmarried. They fed us, broke us into groups, and gave us homework. You could even receive "mommy" and "daddy" bucks for completing homework and participating in class. These bucks allowed us to shop in their on-site store for many things young parents would need to raise a child. We even purchased a car seat/stroller combo with all the points/bucks we accumulated. I didn't even know things like that existed. These people were a group of Christians who put services in place to address the needs of the lost, lonely, hurting, and confused. People made in the image of God who was going through a tough time and needed to be treated with the dignity that humanity demands.
While we took advantage of this opportunity to the fullest, we also qualified for the WIC program because of our social, economic, and marital status. WIC is a social services program known as Women, Infants, and Children.
“The origins of WIC date back to the 1960s when the Nation began to recognize that many low-income Americans were suffering from malnutrition. Various studies identified hunger as a major problem in this country, and events such as The Poor People’s Campaign, The March on Washington for Jobs and Equality, and the CBS documentary “Hunger in America” helped to publicize the problem (USDA, 1999b). On September 26, 1972, WIC was formally authorized by an amendment to the Child Nutrition Act of 1966. The legislation (P.L. 92-433, sponsored by Senator Hubert H. Humphrey), established the Special Supplemental Food Program for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) as a 2-year pilot program.”2
As a young Black father seeking to navigate the complexity of manhood, fatherhood, and American life, I remember one night being particularly stressed out. After getting off late, I learned that we were out of formula and needed milk, eggs, juice, bread, and other essentials. I had used the WIC vouchers in the past with my girlfriend, but honestly, so much of this was new to me. On the way to the store, I saw a police officer pull behind me and turn on his lights. I slowly pulled over to the side, rolled my window down, and calmly grabbed my license and vehicle registration as the officer approached. I must have looked how I felt because the first thing he asked me was, “Are you okay?” I also must have really needed a friend in that moment because I proceeded to tell him about how stressed out I was. I told him I was tired and pulled out my folder that carried the WIC vouchers. I shared that I was just trying to make it to the grocery store before they closed because we needed formula. He empathized with me and sent me on my way.
After getting to the store, I felt better but still confused about what I could purchase and what the vouchers wouldn’t cover. An older Black lady who worked at the store saw my confused face and asked if I needed help. She helped me better understand the vouchers and when I could use them. Her kindness was a healing balm to a weary soul.
When I write about what it means to be American, I think of these experiences. I think of the legislation people fought to pass to care for the impoverished, hurting, and those in crisis. I think of those people who not only carry their faith in their hearts but are living, breathing examples of what it means to love your neighbor.
One of America's proclamations is "The Land of Opportunity." We even enshrine opportunity in the Constitution: "All men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness." These proclamations haven't always been true for everyone, and the failure of this is more than aspirational; it was often intentional. Men and women were stripped of their dignity and unable to build lives or families.
Many people intentionally choose to degrade others rather than elevate them to equality. So they devalued them and, in doing so, devalued their lives, rights, and offspring. Nowhere is this more true than in reading about the horrors perpetuated against the enslaved and the emancipated during the post-reconstruction era. It took people fighting, dying, praying, laboring, leading, legislating, and preaching for all people to be free and receive the full right of citizenship. To be treated with dignity and to have a family. Even more remarkable, it took all of this to receive the acknowledgment of personhood.
The fight for Black equality and life was a long and arduous struggle, but so is the fight for life in dealing with another issue: birth, abortion, and the opportunity to thrive.
Lately, the issue of abortion has been everywhere. For so many evangelical or conservative Christians, the number one reason they vote is for the abolishment of this practice. I understand that. But what often gets neglected in this conversation is why people decide to have abortions in the first place. The societal and systemic challenges that people face are pervasive in big cities and small towns. The loss of autonomy, the fear of being alone, the heartbreak of carrying a child to term when you have been raped or abused. The overwhelming weight of poverty.
According to a New York Times article entitled Who Gets Abortions in America
The Typical Patient ...
Is Already a Mother.
Is in Her Late 20s.
Attended Some College.
Has a Low Income.
Is Unmarried.
Is in Her First 6 Weeks of Pregnancy.
Is Having Her First Abortion.
Lives in a Blue State.3
As a 20-year-old, I learned that these are difficult decisions, and often, decisions that people are either too young, too ill-informed, or too emotional to make. I do not use that language to belittle anyone, but it is extremely difficult to make a long-term rational decision on your own when you are in crisis. Now, some people gather all the facts and decide what they want to do with clarity, but the vast majority of people I’ve known in these situations are usually filled with hopelessness and despair. Hopelessness is a dangerous thing. Despair fills the heart with fear and anxiety, crippling it and causing one to look for a way out. A way to regain control. What too many have failed to realize, even in our modern debates, is that abortion is not the root. It’s the fruit of a much larger issue. It’s also not a cure. It only masks the pain of the heart.
Having a child at the age of 21 changed my life. It taught me many valuable lessons and caused me to grow and mature. It also was much more challenging than I could have imagined. Especially since I had such a rocky relationship with my daughter’s mother. Though we couldn’t agree on much, we did agree that bringing this life into the world was our only real option. We never really consider adoption, but I honor mothers who make that complex and often uncertain choice.
I talked with a pastor friend recently about this issue. He is part of a couple of groups that focus on providing services to those experiencing crises and unexpected pregnancies. He is also a member of a group helping women who are struggling after having an abortion. One provides services they see as preventative; the other says, “We love you no matter your decision. You don’t have to go through it alone.” Which approach is right for a pastor or a Christian? Both! We care for people made in the image of God. We show up. We encourage. We advocate. We serve. We pray. We give. We speak the truth. We challenge. We love!
In America, we have an opportunity to fight for life—for the dignity of all. We have fallen short so many times, but we cannot stop fighting for the beauty of life and the joy of family. That may mean advocating for specific pro-family legislation and increased access to health care for all people, but especially women of color and poor people. The maternal and infant mortality rates are still way too high, especially in my home state of Alabama. It takes being fully committed.
The (&) Campaign launched an initiative a few years ago called The Whole Life Project, which focused on the health and care of mothers and children. You can learn more at the clickable link and watch the video below.
https://www.childtrends.org/publications/dramatic-increase-in-percentage-of-births-outside-marriage-among-whites-hispanics-and-women-with-higher-education-levels
https://www.ers.usda.gov/webdocs/publications/46648/15834_fanrr27c_1_.pdf
https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2021/12/14/upshot/who-gets-abortions-in-america.html