My son, Nasir, and I took our first “mommy and me” swim class just after he turned 1. He had always loved sticking his feet in the water at the beach or floating on my husband’s back, but this would be his first experience learning to immerse himself in a body of water. And although he was a bit distracted by the floaties, squeaky toys and attempting to drink the water, he had a natural inclination for swimming.
As the instructor gently focused on the mechanics of my son kicking his feet and navigating through the water on his belly, I thought of my first experience “learning to swim” in a pool. I was taught to swim by my father dropping me in the deep end of a hotel pool during a family reunion and telling me to meet him on the other side. I was around 4 years old at the time.
I wasn’t frightened by my dad’s unorthodox technique, but it was no substitute for formal lessons. Although I was comfortable traversing a pool after that trial by fire, I never felt that I knew enough to save my own life or someone else’s in an emergency. So when I was 28, I set out to challenge myself by earning a scuba diving certification. As a Black woman in America and the only one in the class who looked like me, it was a stretch.
The ease my son, who is now 4, and I feel in the water didn’t come by accident. When I was pregnant with him, I told my husband that I wanted our child not only to learn how to swim, but also to not fear the water. The countless stories I’d heard of Black American children drowning, including in the bathtub, focused my energy on making sure he understood the mechanics of swimming and that although water can be fun, it can also be deadly.
According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention,[1] Black children between the ages of 5 to 19 are 5.5 times more likely to die by drowning in swimming pools than white children are. Drowning is a leading cause of injury-related death for all children and toddlers, according to the American Academy of Pediatrics[2]. But those dismal statistics among Black children may be a result of intergenerational trauma surrounding Black people and swimming.
Throughout American history, Black people were not allowed to use public or private pools alongside white people, which meant many never learned how to swim. Victoria W. Wolcott[3], a professor of history at the University at Buffalo, has found in her research on the topic that municipal swimming pools’ popularity in the 20th century relied heavily on the exclusion of Black people.
“Swimming pools[4] and beaches[5] were among the most segregated and fought over public spaces in the North and the South,” Dr. Wolcott wrote[6] in an article for The Conversation. “White stereotypes of Blacks as diseased and sexually threatening served as the foundation for this segregation. City leaders justifying segregation also pointed to fears of fights breaking out if whites and Blacks mingled. Racial separation for them equaled racial peace.”
Some of the more egregious instances of white people enacting violence toward Black people wanting to swim have included pouring bleach and acid[7] in the water and throwing nails[8] at the bottom of pools to force Black people out. Thus generations of Americans were robbed of learning this life-saving skill.
Water has represented life or death for Black Americans as far back as the Transatlantic Slave Trade[9]. According to the Slave Voyages Database[10], which documents voyages from 1514 to 1866, of the more than 12 million African people put onto slave ships, nearly two million people[11] did not survive the journey. Some chose death by drowning over enslavement, while others succumbed to conditions aboard and were tossed overboard. Water became synonymous with survival or perishing; in places like Great Dismal Swamp in Virginia and North Carolina, it was also a means for many enslaved people to try to navigate their way to freedom[12] after escape.
According to Mark Wolynn[13], author of the book “It Didn’t Start With You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle,” the complicated relationship between Black people and swimming could be a response to generational trauma. “Recent developments in the fields of cellular biology, neuroscience, epigenetics and developmental psychology underscore the importance of exploring at least three generations of family history in order to understand the mechanism behind patterns of trauma and suffering that repeat,” he writes. “This can explain the ‘fear’ of swimming for some African American children and adults.”
Mariel Buqué[14], a psychologist who focuses on intergenerational trauma, said that for Black people, water represents “one of the largest collective traumas we have experienced in the Western Hemisphere.”
Fortunately for me, both my mother and father learned how to swim, so they worked at dismantling that dangerous legacy; as a mother, I understood that it was my obligation to do it for my son, as well.
The rapper and business mogul Jay-Z recently said[15] on an episode of LeBron James’s HBO Show, “The Shop,” that he didn’t learn how to swim until his oldest daughter, Blue, was born. “If she ever fell in the water and I couldn’t get her, I couldn’t even fathom that thought,” he said. Jay-Z would have been in his 40s at the time he learned how to swim.
Paulana Lamonier[16] created Black People Will Swim[17] to ensure that both children and adults are confident in the water. The group offers low-cost swim classes and private lessons in New York, and is based on an acronym: FACE, or fun, awareness, community and education. “BPWS aims to bring the number of Black kids who drown to zero,” Ms. Lamonier said.
When a fearful person is ready to learn, she recommends seeking out a private instructor if possible for undivided attention to “go from fearful to fearless” in the water. “In addition to private lessons, I encourage people to take group classes and ask a friend or family member to join them and start with your local community centers, YMCA, or the like,” she said.
I am elated that my family is breaking the stereotypes that are placed on Black people and swimming. I don’t just think about my son when he’s in the water; I think of other Black children and their parents, and how learning to brave the water is part of the fight to save our own lives.
References
- ^ the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, (www.cdc.gov)
- ^ American Academy of Pediatrics (healthychildren.org)
- ^ Victoria W. Wolcott (arts-sciences.buffalo.edu)
- ^ Swimming pools (www.uncpress.org)
- ^ beaches (www.uncpress.org)
- ^ wrote (theconversation.com)
- ^ pouring bleach and acid (www.nytimes.com)
- ^ throwing nails (www.usatoday.com)
- ^ Transatlantic Slave Trade (slaveryandremembrance.org)
- ^ Slave Voyages Database (www.slavevoyages.org)
- ^ two million people (www.statista.com)
- ^ navigate their way to freedom (www.npr.org)
- ^ Mark Wolynn (markwolynn.com)
- ^ Mariel Buqué (www.drmarielbuque.com)
- ^ recently said (twitter.com)
- ^ Paulana Lamonier (https://ift.tt/35s8ZSR)
- ^ Black People Will Swim (https://ift.tt/35s8ZSR)
from NYT > Well https://ift.tt/3iHI8dp
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