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“Who Else Has a Son Like Mine?” A Mother Searches for Other Parents Who Lack Medical Answers
How many days had we spent asking the same questions of God or doctors? How long had we wrestled with conditions that didn’t yet exist?
This is What Genes Can’t Tell Us, a monthly column by Taylor Harris on parenting, genetics, and the quest for answers to medical riddles.
Sometimes when I’m reading to my seven-year-old daughter, she’ll suck in a big breath, seal her lips, and begin moving her right hand, fixed in a Y-shape, back and forth between us. Her hazel eyes will grow; her chest will puff out. It would be torture to make her wait, so I usually stop to acknowledge the sign her first-grade teacher taught her.
Did you really lead a group of slaves to freedom by reading the stars, or are you just a Black person who likes the sky?
something
did
.
didn't
us.
likeness,
Great Gatsby
Me too, me too. I have a connection.
Taylor Harris is a writer living in Virginia. Her work has been featured in The Washington Post, Longreads, The Cut, McSweeney’s, and other publications. Her memoir about mothering a son with an unexplainable medical condition is forthcoming from Catapult.
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The past two years have solidified my view that America may never change enough for me.
Whiteness Can’t Save Us
Whiteness cannot give us what we need, and this is not a disappointment. This is a testimony.
More Mother, Less Detective: Where I’ve Found Grace Without a Diagnosis for My Son
Not knowing happens to all mothers, and to all of us—if we are breathing, we are without escape from things we can’t know.
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I’m not just advocating for a child whose challenges don’t follow a script. I’m also a black mother advocating for my black son in a room full of people who don’t look like us.
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Abuse and harassment within the restaurant industry is very much intertwined with other forms of racial and economic oppression and violence.