Family Fear, Resilience, and Community
Announcements
Empathy is a Muscle
Friday, February 21 at 12 PM PST
Free
Join us tomorrow for a free workshop; Empathy is a Muscle. I’ve learned that committing to empathy is an amazing hack to stay calm and present so we can provide the best support for our kiddos. As parents of color - we probably weren’t raised this way! Learn how on Friday at noon pacific.
The Partnership Principle
Thursday, March 6 at 12 PM PST
$75
Use promo code “newsletter” for a 40% discount. New price: $45
Tired of power struggles and nagging your kid without effect? In this workshop, you’ll learn skills to work with the energy and needs of your kiddo - and still get the behaviors you want!
The heart of the matter
Shit got real y’all!
We are just a month into this presidential administration, and we are feeling the effects of intentional fear and chaos perpetuated against the people in this country. This includes bureaucratic chaos, inviting constitutional crises, increased deportations, ICE raids, attempted transgender erasure, and the list goes on.
I’m doing my thing. I’m off social media. I read two New York Times articles per day and stop there. I do things that bring me peace and joy and I love hard on my family. But still…
This administration is attacking communities I’m part of and communities I love - Black folks, Brown folks, poor folks, immigrants, queer people - especially transgendered kids. I reached out to four families to get their perspectives on how they are raising their children in these times. I learned a lot from their stories. I know you will too.
Melissa and Carlos: I’m not sure if the tractor is ever going to work
Melissa and Carlos, a couple of Mexican and Nicaraguan descent, are raising a six-year-old daughter and a four-year-old son in Contra Costa County, CA. They recognize their relative privilege as citizens with resources and a strong community, yet they carry deep fears about the world their children will grow up in.
Melissa, a teacher in a predominantly Black and Latino immigrant community, sees firsthand how schools are failing to address the political realities affecting their students. “I have a student who hears his parents discussing their fears about being undocumented. He’s terrified! I tell him that we will all stand up to support him and his family and that we WILL get through this. How is that kid supposed to focus on school?”
At home, she and Carlos navigate anxiety, with Carlos describing himself as being in a constant state of “fight or flight - mostly flight” Their son doesn’t fit into confined gender norms. “He has fabulous glitter nail polish,” says Melissa. Their daughter is strong-willed and loud. They worry about kids who color outside the lines. Will their son be able to express his full identity - whatever evolves? Will their daughter have reproductive rights? Will both of their kids have permission to shine?
The couple has built a close-knit community of POC families, finding comfort in shared meals, storytime at the library, and simply checking in on each other. “At the park, we can share hopes, dreams, and fears with our friends - while our kids just run around carefree.”
They keep chickens, and have started to stock up on rice and beans… just in case.” If anything goes down, they want to be able to make it through. “I’m not going full survivalist,” says Carlos, “But we aren’t going to be caught with nothing to eat.
As we finish, I find myself identifying with Carlos. He seems burned out, struggling to find a path forward. He’s holding this tension between creating a sense of sanctuary where his family can thrive and feeling drained by the meanness of the world. A few years ago, they bought a more spacious house with an acre of land. Carlos purchased an old tractor. It was an act of hope. He would fix the tractor, till the field, and grow fresh food. Now and then he putts around with it, but isn’t making progress. “I’m not sure if that thing is ever going to work.”
Saru: crisis and joy in Oakland
Saru and her husband Zachary are movement leaders raising two teenage daughters. Their lives are steeped in activism, and the hostility of the current political climate seeps into their personal lives, creating stress and straining their relationship. “We both realized that we are in constant crisis mode at work, and it’s really hard to turn that off. We’ve been much more intentional about working on our marriage.”
In December, Saru took a month off. It was her first extended break since maternity leave (which ain’t no break). She rediscovered playing the piano and trail running. This intentional act of self-care has improved her relationships, particularly with her daughters. She’s back at work, but they are enjoying more joy. “Ironically, I’m happier. There’s more space in our relationship. At home, I’m exasperated less and appreciating my daughters more.”
Their family leans into transparency, discussing political realities over dinner and listening to Democracy Now on the way to school. "We don’t sugarcoat things for our kids," Saru explains. "They will soon be young women who are Black and Indian. They need to see the world as it is but they also deserve to see that joy and resistance can coexist."
She finds hope in chosen family, a small community of families of color who are all working on social justice in their own way. “I refuse to play defense all the time. That’s what the other side wants. We have a vision for a just future, and we are committed to bringing that to life.”
Alex: queer resilience and community
Alex and Jaryn are raising their almost-eight-year-old daughter in Oakland. She is transgendered. Their journey has been one of love, learning, and steadfast support. “Even when we thought of her as a boy, we encouraged her to express herself in any way she wanted. When she was two, we watched Beyoncé’s Homecoming concert on tv. She was transfixed! She didn’t want to wear pants anymore because Beyoncé wore a leotard,” Alex recounts. Her identity was affirmed when she stopped responding to male pronouns at school, and her teacher helped facilitate the shift to her evolved identity.
As parents, they protect their daughter from the harshest realities of transphobia while ensuring she knows her worth. "She’s a kid first," Alex says. "She’s curious, energetic, and loves Beyoncé."
Alex feels privileged that her daughter doesn’t require gender affirming care yet, but knows that’s coming very soon. She worries about access, comprehensive options, and good counsel.
Their daughter’s identity is blessed and complicated by their daughter's athleticism, especially in gymnastics. This exposes their family to the national debate about trans girls and women in sports. I express my outrage about this issue to Alex. Socially conservative Christians have framed this issue in terms of fairness to cisgendered girls. In truth, the majority of transgender girls and women playing sports are doing so at the recreation or primary and secondary school level. Barring these girls from participation prevents them from friendship, belonging, and the joy of movement and working toward mastery. This is a modern form of separate and unequal that creates outcasts.
Alex is in grad school studying how Black queer communities articulate their identities despite marginalization. “One thing I’ve learned is that our communities lack elder voices and guidance.” She is committed to ensuring her daughter grows up surrounded by a broad, loving queer community. Through this, she teaches her daughter that their family’s existence is not up for debate—they have always been here and will always be here.
Juan Carlos: uncertainty, activism, and lasagna
Juan Carlos, originally from Mexico, has lived in the U.S. since childhood. He’s a DACA recipient, while both his parents live in the United States undocumented. He’s a cook and an organizer, and has spent years advocating for workers rights and living wages. He co-parents his five-year-old daughter with his ex-wife, both of whom are U.S. citizens.
The reelection of Trump has been retraumatizing for him. While he was once fueled by anger and activism, he now struggles with fear. He sees many in his community withdrawing, isolating, much like during COVID. Despite this, he is determined to find ways to support his loved ones, whether through food deliveries or virtual check-ins.
His daughter, who has delayed speech, isn’t old enough to engage in political discussions, so their connection is built on cooking together, playing, and simply being present. "I learned to make past from my father. He taught me to keep tasting the food - if I loved it, other’s would too! Now my daughter and I love making lasagna together.” The world is scary enough—I want our home to be a place where she can be safe and grow." His advocacy work remains focused on labor rights—he believes it all comes back to wages. All of this administration’s policies are big distractions from income inequality. They are working on deportation, on chaos, when are they going to work on living wages for people? They aren’t!”
What These Families Teach Us
Fear, anxiety, and exhaustion are prevalent, yet so is the determination to create spaces of love and safety for their children. All the parents I interviewed have a strong sense of kind and chosen community. All, in some way, were figuring out how to contribute to activism and “the movement”. All were tired, pissed off, and vigilant about creating beauty and joy.
How to Support Families Who Are Struggling
Build and Support Community: Offer tangible support, whether it’s checking in on a friend, organizing childcare, or contributing to community funds.
Advocate for Policy Change: Support local and national policies that protect immigrant rights, LGBTQ+ protections, and workers' rights.
Amplify Voices: Share and uplift the stories of marginalized communities. Listen to what people need rather than assuming.
Provide Safe Spaces: If you are an educator, employer, or community leader, create environments where people feel secure and valued.
Take Care of Yourself Too: The work of resistance is ongoing. Rest, joy, and connection are necessary to sustain the fight.
I asked Alex what people can do to stand up for others:
People can stand up to support my family by educating themselves and using their privilege to disrupt intolerance. Silence is violence. Let's break the silence by leaning in to having hard and honest conversations about injustice in order to begin holding each other accountable. Talk to family members, friends, and whoever else is in your communities. Be clear about what you value and what your boundaries are. Honor the precious people within the Queer community by protecting us, both in and out of our presence.
If you have a story you’d like to share. Reach out to me ed@villagewellparenting.com
we’re obsessed with
Not skiing. I’m an Olympic-level non-skier. Every year, we go to the snow with two other families. Those people ski. I’m too smart for that. I’m elite at making splitpea soup and cornbread. My arroz caldo breaks world records.I conquer chapters of books armed with blankets and my reading spectacles. I have multiple gold medals in drinking wine in the hot tub. When the ski-folk return, there’s a beautiful dinner prepared, I’m a bit tipsy, but have no frostbite or broken wrists.
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Ed Center, the founder of The Village Well, is a parenting coach and educator certified in the Triple P method. The Village Well is a community of parents in BIPOC families, focused on attaining more joy, calm, and meaning in family life. We coach parents to prioritize their own healing and wellness, deepen connections with their kids, and learn tools to support better behavior. Services include Parenting workshops, Parenting courses, and community events. Our support is culturally-grounded support and honors your unique family. Ready to stop yelling? Schedule a free consultation with one of our team members.
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