Dear Random White Women, No Thank You.

White women I don’t know, complimenting my daughter, makes me uncomfortable. When it happens, I try to hide my cringe behind the kind of smile that only works with people who don’t know how you look happy, and move on with my day. But it always leaves me a little annoyed. I know while she possesses more baby than Black to them now, sooner than it should, she will no longer be a child like theirs. She’ll be another Black body to question and condemn.

I know Black girls like her are feared and resented by age eight. They’re exoticized, and then emulated, before their sweet sixteen. They aren’t celebrated, they aren’t protected, and they sure aren’t accepted by the exact same women that look at her now and say how adorable she is.

And she is adorable. Of course she is, she is my child.

But she’s also vocal and communicative for her age. And while they are impressed with her vocabulary today. Her mastery of language will be another thing they are confused about mere years from now. Another way their ignorance will project onto my child when the remark of how “articulate” she is.

And she will be articulate. Of course she will, she is my child.

But being outspoken isn’t always a positive attribute for Black girls. That articulation is quickly described as aggression the moment they speak out of the turn someone else believed they had the authority to give them. However now, when my child demands attention as she walks onto a playground, afro puffs adorned with big bows high in the air, they giggle, and comment about her sass.

And yes, she is sassy. Of course she is, she is my child.

But that sass they love, because it reminds them of their own daughter, will be considered an attitude by five. Her personality will become something that needs correction. Her self-esteem will be labeled as rudeness, her expressions as intimidating, and her presence as a nuisance. Everything that makes my daughter the amazing little girl she is, will be the same things that make them uneasy a few years from now.

And yes, she will make them uneasy. Of course she will, she is my child.

I have absolutely no intention to reduce her feistiness. My job is to teach her how to use it to her advantage. Because I know the window that Black girls are treated as children is so small, I’m not going to waste time trying to make her future-self palatable to the same women who stop me to tell me how cute she is now. As though they have never seen a Black child walk on their street. Or they have never imagined a little Black girl could be so polite and well-mannered. Their shock, every time, eye-roll inducing.

Before you assume that I am being hypersensitive. This is not an overdramatization. There are charts, studies, and dissertations verifying exactly what I’m saying that you can look up on whatever search engine suits you.

Beyond the extensive data, when you frequent spaces that were never meant to be occupied by people with your color as much as I do, you quickly learn exactly what motivates the actions of that very White community. You recognize one Black person at a packed park with a small child feels like a safe ratio. Safe enough to leave backpacks, strollers, and toys unattended without worry. You feel the shift when three Black boys enter that same park on their scooters and suddenly there is a mad dash to collect all the items that were previously just fine unattended. You know, before they are potentially looted. Because they saw three Black men as a potential hazard, and I saw three little boys no older than ten trying to play at the damn park. They saw an intrusion of their comfort and I saw children who had no clue that anyone else would consider them a threat. You’d see these same women, who just tried to bond with me over the independent nature of second born children, treating little boys, that look exactly like my son, as though they are wrong for just being.

So no, I don’t delight in the pleasantries they extend. I don’t find their compliments gratifying. I don’t enjoy the fawning over her. I can’t trust their kindness will extend into her childhood even though she will be the same adorable, articulate and sassy girl. Therefore, their conditional praises that they’ll renege when her body becomes more Black and less baby, are of no use to either of us.

White women I don’t know complimenting my daughter is a nuisance. It requires me to pretend as though they don’t know what is to come. When we both know, their adoration won’t last.