A.F.R.O. Parenting: R is for Real Experiences
I’ve been encouraged to write for years. A middle school teacher, a high school mentor, a college professor who pushed me to enter a writing contest. I never saw myself as a writer. A performer, yes, but not a writer.
In 2018, as my life was imploding, my friend and supervisor encouraged me to write. “Your story will be someone’s survival guide,” he said. He even bought a book to learn how to copyedit and gifted me another: Write the Damn Book. It was great—encouraging, with practical advice. One thing the author mentions is that when you write about your life, it’s not uncommon to experience an eruption around the very topic you’re exploring. It goes beyond imposter syndrome straight to a primal desire to just give up.
That’s where I am today. I’m writing about the real experiences of parenting, and suddenly, the nitty-gritty of discipline has consumed my world.
The Parenting Books Didn’t Write This Chapter
I’ve read the books. I’ve highlighted the passages. I own a well-worn copy of No-Drama Discipline by Drs. Tina Bryson and Daniel J. Siegel. It’s full of wonderful, brain-based advice about connecting with your child and using discipline as a teaching moment. I’ve built my parenting philosophy on its foundation.
When I first read this line, it became my mantra:
“Skill development is a huge part of what discipline is all about. And that requires repeated guidance and coaching.”
I have been accused of being ‘soft’ because I don’t punish immediately. I try to work through the ‘what’ was done and the ‘how’ it can be repaired. My wife and I are in constant conversation, trying to provide an environment for our squad that is stable, joyful, and accountable. We see discipline as an opportunity to instill our family values.
But here’s the chapter that’s missing from these books: None of them are written for parents of Black children.
They don’t account for the social, cultural, and economic context of being African American. They operate in a world where children are given the benefit of the doubt, where their outbursts are seen as developmental stages, not threats. That is not the world my children are growing up in. We see the proof time and time again in the data showing Black children are suspended and expelled from school at dramatically higher rates than their white peers for the same infractions.
The stakes are simply different for us. The world is not “gentle” with our children. So while I want to connect and teach, I also have to equip them for a world that may not give them a second chance.
From ‘Gentle’ to ‘Intentional’ Parenting
Gentle parenting has been, understandably, under attack. A generation of parents afraid to let their children struggle has produced young people who don’t know how to handle discomfort or the word ‘no.’ We see it everywhere.
And I get the pushback. I advocate for it. Sometime last year, I stopped calling myself a “gentle parent” and started saying I was an “intentional parent.”
Because my children need more than just empathy from me—they need skills. They need to understand the concept of “time and place.” Knowing when to speak up and when to be quiet, when to challenge and when to comply—this isn’t just about being polite. In my own life, knowing that difference has both advanced my career and, quite frankly, saved my life. I need to give my children that same armor.
When I picked up No-Drama Discipline again this week, these lines hit differently:
“…in your efforts to build skills you can still be consistent while remaining flexible and open to other alternatives.”
The neuroscience is good. Connection is vital. But it has to be paired with real-world preparation. How many articles have we all read about the need for ‘soft skills’ in the workplace, in boardrooms, in government? I’m trying to teach those skills right here at home, and I’m using discipline to do it.
So, What Now?
This doesn’t mean there are no consequences. It means finding the right ones. And that’s the trouble we’re having right now—determining the right consequences and, in turn, the right rewards to shape behavior that is both authentic to my children and safe for them in the world.
One of my squad is struggling, having a tough time adjusting to all the changes, and I get it. I really do. It feels like I’m in a constant state of recalibration, trying to be a soft place for them to land while also being the coach who prepares them for a very hard game.
It’s messy. Some days it feels like it’s all falling apart. Other days, I see a glimmer of something coming together. Most days, I can’t tell the difference.
We’ll let you know how it goes.
Until then, good luck.
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