How to co-parent as allies, not adversaries

Ebony Roberts: I remember
watching my father raise the pistol

to my mother's head.

She pleaded with him to put the gun down,

but he ignored her.

When she bolted toward the door,
he followed close behind

and once outside,
he fired one single shot.

I was 12.

I remember this moment frame by frame.

I remember feeling numb.

I remember feeling alone.

Thank God, the bullet missed her,

but my family would never be the same.

I would never be the same.

I didn't know then all the ways

that my parents' on-again,
off-again relationship would impact me,

but I knew I didn't want
a love like theirs.

My story would be different.

Years later, when I met you,

I fell madly in love.

Our connection was undeniable.

It was as if you had been
hand-picked just for me.

I thought we'd be together forever.

But we struggled with some
of the same issues my parents had,

and after nearly nine years together,

we called it quits.

We had Sekou then.

He was only three.

Though he was too young
to really understand what was going on,

he was old enough to know

that mommy and daddy

were not going to be living
in the same house anymore.

Our breakup hit me really hard.

But I decided

I wouldn't let my broken heart
get in the way of what was best for Sekou.

We struggled initially,
trying to navigate this new space

as co-parents.

I asked myself,

how do we raise this beautiful boy
full of wonder and promise

and so much power,

in spite of our failures as a couple?

The answer for me was simple.

I could either choose fear,

fear of being alone,

fear of the unknown,

or choose love.

And I chose love.

That means seeing
the good in you as a father.

It means seeing
the good in you as a father

and not your missteps as a partner.

It means putting Sekou first every time,

even if it means I don't get my way.

I know my parents went back and forth

trying to work things out
for my brother and I's sake.

Though I appreciate their effort,

I wish they hadn't.

I saw too much, I heard too much.

I knew I didn't want
that to be Sekou's story.

I wanted Sekou to know

what it was like to see
two parents who got along,

two parents who worked together as a team.

I wanted him to know

what love looks like in its truest form.

Love is patient, love is kind.

Love does not anger easily,

it keeps no wrongs.

Love always protects,

always trusts, always hopes,
always perseveres.

Shaka Senghor: It was 1983.

I was 11 years old.

I remember being in a basement
with my father,

in our home on the east side of Detroit.

I watched him stuff albums

into the blue and orange milk crates,

as tears streamed from his eyes.

Just before that,

him and my mother

had just sat me and my siblings down

and told us that they
were calling it quits.

Thirty years later,

I found myself with tears in my eyes,

as I packed my belongings in our home.

Ebony and I met

while I was serving
a 19-year prison sentence.

For four years,

we used letters, phone calls and visits

to build what we had imagined
to be an unshakeable bond.

We fought the system together,

and we thought that we would be able
to right the wrongs of our parents.

She was a poet,

I was a writer.

She was gorgeous, with a PhD.

I was handsome,

with a GED.

(Laughter)

We built something magical.

We built something
that we thought would endure.

But unfortunately,

our relationship became unhinged
when I was released from prison.

Post-traumatic stress syndrome,

trauma from prior to going to prison,

baggage from her relationship,

my inexperience in a relationship

undid the magic of what we built
behind the walls.

Centered in all of that

was our beautiful boy.

I remember when we first
brought Sekou home.

It was so exciting, it was amazing,

we worked together, we collaborated,

we supported each other.

You took the night shift,
I took the morning shift.

And it was going amazing.

And then it all changed.

It changed the morning that you came in
really excited, you was like,

"Hey, I'm going back to work!

Aren't you excited?"

And I was like, "Yes.
I am ecstatic right now.

(Laughter)

I cannot be more delighted."

But inside, I was really afraid.

But I couldn't tell you that.

So instead, I said,

"Hey, go off and have a wonderful day."

And you left,

and I was left with Sekou.

What I understand now about that moment

is that we were fostering a trust

that's necessary for parents to coexist.

And that you were trusting me
with our most precious gift.

And that you were building the foundation
and the blocks for what's important

for this portal we call parenthood.

ER: Knowing how our parents'
breakups impacted us,

you know, we were really sensitive

about how our breakup would impact Sekou.

We struggled,

but we found our way.

And let Sekou tell it,

we're the best parents in the world.

I love that he sees us that way.

We made a choice in the beginning

to co-parent as allies
and not adversaries.

To break the toxic pattern

that we see play out over and over again

when parents lose focus
on what's most important,

the children.

They allow their relationship pain
to get in the way.

But at the end of the day,
we're on the same team,

and that's Sekou's team.

You know, I have to admit,

we have an unconventional relationship

a lot of people don't understand.

We're not perfect as parents or people.

But we honor each other's role
in Sekou's life.

We allow him to do things

that our parents
would never allow us to do.

We don't allow our fears
to put limits on him.

We nurture his natural curiosity
about the universe

and his relationship to the world.

Remember that time when we were
coming in from a long day at work,

and Sekou found a puddle outside,

a puddle of mud, mind you.

Had a brand new fresh outfit on,
Levi's from head to toe.

And he found this puddle of mud,
and he reached for it.

And he wanted to touch the muddy earth,
and we allowed him to do that.

We resisted the urge to say no,

and in fact, went and got him a shovel,

and allowed him
to feel the earth's properties

and explore as much
as he wanted to, and he played,

and was as happy as a pig in mud.

(Laughter)

We realized that the outfit
could be washed,

that a bath would clean up all the dirt,

but the thrill of being in the moment,

of being able to touch

and be amazed at this thing
that he had never discovered before

was more valuable than the clothes
or the dirt that could be washed away.

We continue to rethink
what is right and wrong

when it comes to parenting.

Sekou challenges us every day.

You know, we allow him to climb on couches

and draw on his clothes and his shoes,

let him run around the store --
well, I do, anyway.

And I get the death stares
from other mamas who look at me

and who think that children should be
quiet and well-behaved in public.

I also get those questions
that are really judgments,

but I don't pay them any mind.

Because at the end of the day,

our job is to guide Sekou
on this journey of life,

not to control him.

We're here to help him
figure out his place in the world,

to uncover his greatest gifts,

to discover why he was born.

We are raising a free black boy

in a world that despises black joy,

and we refuse to put limits on him
that the world already has.

SS: Our parenting
can be seen as an allegory

for this two-sided coin of possibilities.

On one side,

the reality of raising
a black boy in a society

that says that black boys,
black bodies and black lives

only seen as profitable or disposable.

And then there's the other side.

Possibility of two parents
who are no longer together

coexisting, supporting each other,

loving each other,
showing affection publicly

in a way that honors
the relationship with our son.

And even more importantly

is the power to support each other
in all those vulnerable moments.

There was this one time

that it was my day to go pick up Sekou,
you remember that time?

I go pick Sekou up, he's in first grade,

and as I'm walking up,

another parent walks up
and says, "Hey, Shaka.

I seen Oprah Winfrey
give a shout-out to you

on CNN last night."

She was super excited, exuberant even.

I was mortified.

Because I thought, what's going to happen
when she tells another parent,

and they tell another parent,

and then they go and look me up

and then they discover

that I was in prison
for second-degree murder.

And then their child hears about it.

And they come to school,
and they say to Sekou,

"Your dad was convicted
of murdering someone."

And I remember,
as watching Sekou race out,

and I knew that I had to call Ebony.

When I called her,
I explained to her what happened,

Ebony said, "You have to have the talk."

So I took Sekou home,

got him ready for bed,

and we talked for half an hour.

I talked to him
about why I went to prison.

And I listened to his feedback.

And then we called his mom
so we can do our nightly ritual

of her offering prayer

and then me doing affirmations.

And I remember holding him tightly.

And I realized the importance
of the affirmations that we do at night.

And I see them as a road map, as a guide,

as a touchstone
for other parents to protect

and to empower their children,

especially in a world
where it's very difficult.

For us, co-parenting is so much more

than scheduling pick-up and drop-off,

playdates,

deciding what he's going to wear,
what he's going to eat.

For us, it's about helping
each other carry the weight,

unpack the load,

and to show up in the world
in a way that honors the beauty

of our son.

And it's for these reasons
that we do affirmations.

ER: We never though we'd be here.

But here we are.

And we hope that the way
that we show up for Sekou

and for each other

is a model of what successful
co-parenting can look like.

We'd like to bring you all in
to this nightly ritual of affirmations

that Shaka does with Sekou
every night at bedtime.

SS: Hey.

(Applause)

SS: I am great.
Sekou: I am great.

SS: I am awesome.
Sekou: I am awesome.

SS: I'm amazing.
Sekou: I'm amazing.

SS: I am thoughtful.
Sekou: I am thoughtful.

SS: I am kind.
Sekou: I am kind.

SS: I am loving.
Sekou: I am loving.

SS: I am caring.
Sekou: I am caring.

SS: I am funny.
Sekou: I am funny.

SS: I'm smart.
Sekou: I'm smart.

SS: I'm a big boy.
Sekou: I'm a big boy.

SS: I'm a soldier.
Sekou: I'm a soldier.

SS: I'm a warrior.
Sekou: I'm a warrior.

SS: I am Sekou.
Sekou: I am Sekou.

(Cheers and applause)

ER: Good job, baby.