Donda West was My Mother Too

When I heard the tragic news about Kanye West's mother, Donda, passing away, my mind was flushed with piercing thoughts. I thought about how proud I've been of Kanye, the artist with the courage to be different, the creativity to be a star, and the vision to tell George Bush what the hell the rest of us were thinking. Kanye even convinced me to avoid purchasing a diamond for my engagement because of the many Africans who continue to perish in the diamond mines.

I thought about his mother, a scholar like myself, who'd obviously raised her son to be the amazing human being he has become. When a black boy has the courage to tell the president to kiss his ass, it's usually because he has a strong, intelligent mother behind him yelling "Go on baby!" I know this well, for my own mother provided me with the courage to be strong in the face of adversity.

As a child, my mother used to say, "Boy, your mouth will either make you great or get you killed, I'm curious to see which one." With far less fanfare than Kanye, my mother's encouragement helped me endure the 2000 emails I received and nasty looks I got from campus colleagues after I verbally body-slammed President Bush during Hurricane Katrina. I speak for black males, which is about as popular as fighting for the rights of lab rats. Were it not for her instilling me with such a strong sense of self, I would have fallen for the same racially-charged intimidation of academia that make my colleagues say one thing in private and another in public.

So, in light of the fact that I connect so well to Kanye and Donda, I knew one thing was true: Donda West was my mother too. My mother didn't have a PhD, but being a black woman is harder than getting a double-doctorate. It's that "Black Female Double Doctorate" that helps a woman raise an empowered and fearless black boy in a world where black males are massively incarcerated, instantly murdered, consistently miseducated, overwhelmingly emasculated and horrifically criticized every single day of our lives. She put Kanye on the world's stage with more intelligence than the average Chicago Bear. He is the Muhammad Ali of his generation, with the vision to see far beyond a paycheck, bling and a damn hit record.

Her death hurt....a lot. But I am sure it hurt Kanye even more, for Donda's death was the death of an irreplaceable part of his being. His ability to change the world died just a little bit with the death of his inspiration. So, the entire world should be in mourning.

I also noticed how the physician who performed Donda's fatal surgery, Dr. Jan Adams, was being dragged through the mud for allegedly being incompetent. I don't know this man, but the dozens of times I've been on CNN, CBS and other networks tell me that you clearly cannot trust what the media says, especially about black doctors. It's normal for the media to try to make black doctors, lawyers and professors into quacks. I've had people with far less education than myself do the same thing to me. Black males would be much more readily accepted if we were athletes, entertainers or criminals. In these fields, our credentials are not questioned.

I also thought about Hollywood's psychological torture of black women, forcing them to feel that their bodies are not beautiful and perfect as they are. Tocarra Jones from America's next top Model was told she was too fat, although she was the first truly sexy woman I'd ever seen on TV. Janet Jackson was told as a child that her butt was too big to become a dancer. Lisa Nicole Carson went from voluptuous to Lindsay Lohan in 2 seconds flat. I hope that Dr. Donda West, the beautiful and amazing woman she was, didn't lose her life trying to fit an image that was meant for someone else. Her vision, purpose, and meaning to this world was far greater than a tummy tuck.
I never met Donda, and I haven't yet met Kanye. But I know my sibling when I see one, and I miss our mom already. Great black moms make the world go round, and Donda will be missed.