LeoLin Bowen

“This is what happens when people stop being polite and start getting real.” My home is a cooperative house on the South Side of Chicago.

I call it the look. The slight tilt of the head confused look that people give me when they find out that I am the “weekend” parent.

What is different now is that I know who I am and what I want. I’m not afraid to be alone and living single. I value my time and my health.

Be careful what you wish for because at eight years old my son is exactly like his father in this aspect. I'm now raising an outgoing kid and I'm reserved.

I knew there was still a culture of fear surrounding black people, but this was the first time I had experienced a person scared of black people.

Inevitably, it happens. A well-meaning (or maybe not so well-meaning) white person will utter the phrase, “Well, I just don’t see color.”

I didn’t see similarities between my mother and I until years later, after I became a mother. The constant conflict hid how my mother and I are alike.

“I just love your squishy belly!” Then, as only children can do, he gave it a nickname: belly jelly. So I'm learning to love my belly jelly.

My son had just lost another tooth. When he looked up at me with his big, brown eyes and asked, “Mommy is the tooth fairy real?”