How to raise a Black son in America | Clint Smith

Translator: Aviaja Josenius Reviewer: Anders Finn Jørgensen

Growing up, I didn't always understand

I min barndom kunne jeg ikke altid forstå

why my parents made me follow the rules that they did.

hvorfor mine forældre fik mig til at følge deres regler.

Like, why did I really have to mow the lawn?

Som, hvorfor skulle jeg egentlig slå græsplænen?

Why was homework really that important?

Hvorfor var lektier egentlig så vigtige?

Why couldn't I put jelly beans in my oatmeal?

Hvorfor kunne jeg ikke putte vingummier i min havregrød?

My childhood was abound with questions like this.

Min barndom var fuld af disse spørgsmål.

Normal things about being a kid and realizing that sometimes,

Normale ting om barndom og senere finde ud af, at nogen gange

it was best to listen to my parents even when I didn't exactly understand why.

var det bedst at lytte til mine forældre, selv når jeg ikke rigtig forstod hvorfor.

And it's not that they didn't want me to think critically.

Og det er ikke fordi de ikke ville at jeg skulle tænke kritisk.

Their parenting always sought to reconcile the tension

Deres opdragelse bestod altid i at forene spændingen

between having my siblings and I understand the realities of the world,

imellem at få mine søskende og mig at forstå realiteten i verden,

while ensuring that we never accepted the status quo as inevitable.

samtidig med at sikre at vi aldrig godtog status quo som uundgåeligt.

I came to realize that this, in and of itself,

Med tiden forstod jeg, at dette, i og med sig selv,

was a very purposeful form of education.

var en meget målbevidst form for opdragelse.

One of my favorite educators, Brazilian author and scholar Paulo Freire,

En af mine yndlingslærere, den brasilianske lærde forfatter Paulo Freire,

speaks quite explicitly about the need for education

taler meget eksplicit om behovet for uddannelse

to be used as a tool for critical awakening and shared humanity.

til at blive brugt til at skærpe kritisk tænkning og delt menneskelighed.

In his most famous book, "Pedagogy of the Oppressed,"

I hans mest berømte bog, "Pædagogik for de Undertrykte,"

he states, "No one can be authentically human

siger han, "Ingen kan være autentisk menneskelig

while he prevents others from being so."

mens han forhindrer andre at være det."

I've been thinking a lot about this lately, this idea of humanity,

Jeg har tænkt meget på dette, idéen om menneskelighed,

and specifically, who in this world is afforded the privilege

og især, hvem i denne verden får privilegiet

of being perceived as fully human.

at blive betragtet som helt menneskelig.

Over the course of the past several months,

Gennem de sidste mange måneder,

the world has watched as unarmed black men, and women,

har verden måttet se ubevæbnede sorte mænd og kvinder

have had their lives taken at the hands of police and vigilante.

blive dræbt af politiet og selvtægtsmænd.

These events and all that has transpired after them

Disse hændelser og alt hvad der er sket efter dem

have brought me back to my own childhood

har taget mig tilbage til min egen barndom

and the decisions that my parents made about raising a black boy in America

og beslutningerne som mine forældre tog om at opdrage en sort dreng i Amerika

that growing up, I didn't always understand in the way that I do now.

at mens jeg voksede op, forstod jeg ikke altid tingene som jeg gør nu.

I think of how hard it must have been, how profoundly unfair it must have felt

Jeg tænker på hvor hårdt det må have været og hvor uretfærdigt det har virket

for them to feel like they had to strip away parts of my childhood

at de følte de måtte fjerne dele af min barndom

just so that I could come home at night.

blot så jeg kunne komme hjem hver aften.

For example, I think of how one night,

For eksempel tænker jeg på en aften,

when I was around 12 years old, on an overnight field trip to another city,

da jeg som tolv-årig tog på en overnattende ekskursion til en anden by,

my friends and I bought Super Soakers

hvor mine venner og jeg købte Super Soakers

and turned the hotel parking lot into our own water-filled battle zone.

og forvandlede hotellets parkeringsplads til vor egen oversvømmede krigszone.

We hid behind cars,

Vi gemte os bag biler,

running through the darkness that lay between the streetlights,

løb gennem mørket mellem gadelygterne,

boundless laughter ubiquitous across the pavement.

og den endeløse latter lød alle vegne på det fortov.

But within 10 minutes,

Men efter 10 minutter

my father came outside, grabbed me by my forearm

kom min far ud, tog i min arm,

and led me into our room with an unfamiliar grip.

og trak mig ind i vores værelse med et hårdt greb.

Before I could say anything,

Før jeg kunne sige noget,

tell him how foolish he had made me look in front of my friends,

sige at han fik mig til at se dum ud i mine venners øjne,

he derided me for being so naive.

skældte han mig ud for at være så naiv.

Looked me in the eye, fear consuming his face,

Han så mig i øjnene, med et udtryk af frygt i ansigtet,

and said, "Son, I'm sorry,

og sagde, "Søn, jeg er ked af det,

but you can't act the same as your white friends.

men du kan ikke opføre dig ligesom dine hvide venner.

You can't pretend to shoot guns.

Du kan ikke lege at du skyder med pistol.

You can't run around in the dark.

Du kan ikke løbe rundt i mørket.

You can't hide behind anything other than your own teeth."

Du kan ikke gemme dig andre steder end bag dine egne tænder."

I know now how scared he must have been,

Jeg ved nu hvor bange han må have været,

how easily I could have fallen into the empty of the night,

hvor nemt jeg kunne have været fortabt i natten,

that some man would mistake this water

at nogen ville synes at griseriet i parkeringspladsen

for a good reason to wash all of this away.

var en god grund til at vaske alt dette væk.

These are the sorts of messages I've been inundated with my entire life:

Disse er budskaberne som jeg har fået i overflod hele mit liv:

Always keep your hands where they can see them, don't move too quickly,

Altid hav dine hænder hvor man kan se dem, ingen drastiske bevægelser,

take off your hood when the sun goes down.

tag hætten af når solen går ned.

My parents raised me and my siblings in an armor of advice,

Mine forældre opdrog mine søskende og mig med en pansermur af råd,

an ocean of alarm bells so someone wouldn't steal the breath from our lungs,

et hav af alarmklokker, for at forhindre at nogen ville stjæle vort åndedrag,

so that they wouldn't make a memory of this skin.

forhindre at nogen ville tage vort liv.

So that we could be kids, not casket or concrete.

Mine forældre ville sikre sig at vi kunne være børn.

And it's not because they thought it would make us better than anyone else

Og det er ikke fordi at de ville gøre os bedre end alle andre,

it's simply because they wanted to keep us alive.

de ville blot holde os i live.

All of my black friends were raised with the same message,

Alle mine sorte venner blev opdraget med det samme budskab

the talk, given to us when we became old enough

talen, vi alle hørte når vi blev gamle nok

to be mistaken for a nail ready to be hammered to the ground,

til at blive forvekslet med søm, klare til at hamre i jorden,

when people made our melanin synonymous with something to be feared.

når folk gjorde vor hudfarve synonym med noget at være bange for.

But what does it do to a child

Men hvad gør det ved et barn

to grow up knowing that you cannot simply be a child?

at vokse op, mens du ved at du simpelthen ikke kan være et barn?

That the whims of adolescence are too dangerous for your breath,

At vide, at pubertetens indfald er for farlige for dig,

that you cannot simply be curious,

at du ikke kan være nysgerrig,

that you are not afforded the luxury of making a mistake,

at du ikke har råd til den luksus det er at lave en fejl,

that someone's implicit bias

at nogens implicitte partiskhed

might be the reason you don't wake up in the morning.

kan være grunden til at du ikke vågner næste morgen.

But this cannot be what defines us.

Men det skal ikke definere os.

Because we have parents who raised us to understand

For vi har forældre der opdrog os til at forstå

that our bodies weren't meant for the backside of a bullet,

at vore kroppe ikke er skabt til at være skjolde for kugler

but for flying kites and jumping rope, and laughing until our stomachs burst.

men for at flyve drager og sjippe, og le til vi får ondt i maven.

We had teachers who taught us how to raise our hands in class,

Vi havde lærere der lærte os at holde hænderne op i klassen,

and not just to signal surrender,

og ikke kun for at overgive os,

and that the only thing we should give up

og at det eneste vi skal opgive

is the idea that we aren't worthy of this world.

er idéen om at vi ikke er denne verden værdige.

So when we say that black lives matter, it's not because others don't,

Når vi siger at sorte liv har betydning, siger vi ikke andre ikke har,

it's simply because we must affirm that we are worthy of existing without fear,

det er fordi at vi må bekræfte at vi har ret til eksistere uden frygt,

when so many things tell us we are not.

når så mange ting siger os at vi ikke har.

I want to live in a world where my son

Jeg vil leve i en verden hvor min søn

will not be presumed guilty the moment he is born,

ikke vil opfattes skyldig så snart han er født,

where a toy in his hand isn't mistaken for anything other than a toy.

hvor et legetøj i hans hånd ikke vil forveksles med andet end et legetøj.

And I refuse to accept that we can't build this world into something new,

Og jeg nægter at acceptere at vi ikke kan ændre denne verden til et sted,

some place where a child's name

et sted hvor et barns navn

doesn't have to be written on a t-shirt, or a tombstone,

ikke vil være skrevet på en t-shirt, eller en gravsten,

where the value of someone's life

hvor værdien af et liv

isn't determined by anything other than the fact that they had lungs,

ikke bestemmes af andet end at de havde lunger,

a place where every single one of us can breathe.

et sted hvor vi allesammen, alle som én, kan trække vejret.

Thank you.

Tak skal I have.

(Applause)

(Bifald)