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Parenting

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Stay calm and ask your kid these three questions

Photo: Pexels.com

My son is screaming at the top of his lungs. It’s as if I’ve ripped away all that matters to him in the world.


After unlearning my own childhood obsession with the police, I’m giving my child the tools to shape his own worldview

Image by Igor Ovsyannykov from Pixabay

The year is 2020. As usual, the news is on in our home, providing a background ambiance for our daily lives. The reporter, a White woman who is almost in tears, describes the latest developments in the murder of Breonna Taylor.


The pros and cons of raising a preteen

Photo by Kaysha on Unsplash

I was trolling TikTok for laughs one day when I stumbled upon a video of a guy doing a “review” of his newborn baby boy. This dude was visibly delighted with his two-month-old offspring — he said the boy only cost him a few “grown-up transactions” — and encouraged others to get one, too.

Now, I got a good chuckle from the breakdown, which played like an unboxing video. That’s a shiny new baby, fresh out of the box. What’s not to like?


The rap god was a one-of-one — and a conduit for father-son bonding

Photo: Frazer Harrison/Getty Images

By the nature of their profession, music stars get elevated.


I just want the best for him — but I fear he’ll be othered

Photo by CDC on Unsplash

Drop-off at my son’s daycare follows a familiar script: We leave home in my quickly aging Kia with its speakers throbbing, as I match the lyrical flows of the ’90s rappers who raised me. Upon approaching the nursery, I slowly reduce the volume and compose myself before parking alongside Audis and Teslas owned by consultants, marketers, lawyers, and the like. Before stepping out of the car, I silently remind myself that my family deserves to experience the same privileges that they do — even if we’ve shaved our budget bare-bones to afford the cost of preschool enrollment.


Some will say America is better than this — it’s not

Photo of an adult’s hand holding a baby’s hand.
Photo of an adult’s hand holding a baby’s hand.
Photo by Aditya Romansa on Unsplash

For the longest time, whenever my mother dreamed of a baby, she’d call me to talk about my future children. She’d describe in vivid detail the child’s mix of features, curly hair, and fat cheeks. If she saw a blonde baby, she’d ask if I was dating una rubia, or someone possessing whatever other characteristics she knew didn’t exist in me. The answer was always a resounding no. No, I wasn’t dating una rubia. No, I wasn’t even thinking about kids.


It was a year of loss, but that’s not the only thing he’ll learn

Photo: Unsplash

In March 2020, my wife and I went on our last date outside the house. Here’s the story I want to tell my son about that night and all that happened during his first year of life.


Welcome to Minority Report, a weekly newsletter from the LEVEL team that packs an entire week into a single email. From learning how to hear other people’s perspectives to the week in racism, from pop-culture picks to a must-read LEVEL story, it’s everything you need and nothing you don’t. If you’re loving what you’re reading, tell a friend to tell a friend.


Welcome to Minority Report, a weekly newsletter from the LEVEL team that packs an entire week into a single email. From Drizzy’s new washed sensibility to the week in racism, from pop-culture picks to a must-read LEVEL story, it’s everything you need and nothing you don’t. If you’re loving what you’re reading, tell a friend to tell a friend.


The vice president affirms my daughters’ dreams in ways no man can

Kamala Harris addresses supporters at party headquarters at the Chase Center on November 7, 2020 in Wilmington, Delaware. Photo: Toni L. Sandys/The Washington Post/Getty Images

One November night in 2008, I found myself with a house full of crying guests.

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