My Son’s First Week of Daycare Unearthed My Fear of American Systems

I am afraid because all systems have predetermined outputs — for children, and especially Black children.

A Black child playing with a race car. Source: Unsplash.

Monday

My son’s daycare is in a neighborhood where it is almost always autumn. The area north of Little Rock’s Interstate 630 is primarily white and wealthy. It is also near the hospital where my wife, the Doctor, scans the bones of the injured. We toured various daycares in the area for our son, now 17th months and lightly bronzed, to attend. His aunties had moved out into new schools and jobs, and I could not continue to watch him while I worked remotely at home. This center was the only place with an immediate open spot.

Permanent autumn requires unified decisions regarding architecture and urban design. This is what I assume, as my experience growing up in New York City’s housing projects shows that such blight also requires decisions. Disrepair requires a central authority to decide that maintaining a place isn’t worth the money. So, I paid attention when I drove through the winding streets of this neighborhood. The exteriors of all the houses seem old, though I can see modern kitchens when I glance inside their windows. That is by the owner’s choice. The neighborhood is in a historic district, so…