<p>“Marita Golden’s <i>Saving Our Sons</i> was revelatory when first published and remains so today. <i>Saving Our Sons</i> is a superb mother’s, artist’s, teacher’s, and community activist’s love story of her son and by extension, all Black sons. This is a book that provides life lessons for our daughters too. Saving Our Sons is critical as a guide, motivator, love-note, and an avenue into lifesaving discussions of the heart for all Black children.”—<b>Haki R. Madhubuti</b>, founder of Third World Press and author of <i>Black Men: Obsolete, Single, Dangerous </i>(1991) and <i>Taught By Women: Poems As Resistance Language New and Selected</i> (2020)</p><p>It is always heartening to see women step up to the writer's table. When the results are as adroit and affecting as Marita Golden's work, it is more than satisfying; it is a cause for celebration.”—<b>Toni Morrison</b>, Nobel Laureate</p>
<p>“Marita Golden has captured the special pain that shadows the joy of Black parenthood in these turbulent times. Elegantly written, this book is a breakthrough.”—<b>Chicago Tribune</b></p>
<p>“A wonderful storyteller, an uncompromising mind, Marita Golden explores the
African-American experience in a completely original way.”—<b>Newsweek</b></p>
<p>“In this book, Marita reminds us why every black parent should be vigilant and intentional in considering how to steer young black boys—and girls as well—through the precarious passage to adulthood. <i>Saving Our Sons</i> is disturbingly relevant in this, the twenty-first century. It’s a compelling read.”—<b>Nathan McCall</b>, author of <i>Makes Me Wanna Holler: A Young Black Man in America</i></p><p>"One of the most important pieces of literature for Black parents."—<b>MJ Fievre</b>, author of <i>Raising Confident Black Kids<br /></i></p>
"It is always heartening to see women step up to the writer's table. When the results are as adroit and affecting as Marita Golden's work, it is more than satisfying; it is a cause for celebration."—Toni Morrison, Nobel Laureate
Two decades ago, Marita was the first Black writer to address the horrifying statistic that haunts all Black mothers: the leading cause of death among Black males under twenty-one is homicide. Today, police brutality rages on as millions call for the reformation of our broken law enforcement in the wake of the traumatic murders of Black teen boys like Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown and Daunte Wright.
Read an intimate account of a mother’s efforts to save her son. Writing her son’s story against the backdrop of a society plagued by systemic racism, economic inequality, and mass incarceration, Golden offers a form of witness and testimony in a time of crisis for Black Americans.
Learn how to grapple with the realities of Black America. Join Golden as she confronts the root causes of violence inflicted upon Black teen boys and reassesses the legacy of her own generation's struggle for civil rights. Explore Black boys’ difficult road to adulthood in the U.S. and learn why single Black mothers are often wrongly blamed for their sons’ actions.
Gain invaluable advice and knowledge from trustworthy sources. In Saving Our Sons, Golden documents her conversations with psychologists, writers, and young Black males themselves.
This book is designed to help you:
- Discuss and unpack generational trauma with loved ones
- Gain deeper insight into the injustices Black children face in the U.S.
- Recognize the importance of community for the success of Black teen boys
If you liked Decoding Boys, Mother & Son: Our Back & Forth Journal, The Boy Crisis or Boy Mom, you’ll love Saving Our Sons.
Author’s Preface
Acknowledgements
Calling My Name
Trouble the Waters
An Acquaintance with Grief
Soon One Morning
Epilogue
The Dead Call Us to Remember
About the Author
- Marita was featured on the Oprah Winfrey Show for her previous book Saving Our Sons
- She was interviewed by Maria Shriver regarding The Wide Circumference of Love
- Marita was featured in a celebration of the life of Ntozake Shange alongside Roland Martin
- She has been featured at many conferences, podcasts, and radio shows across the country
- The author is purposefully increasing her social media presence and email list
“This is the story of how I loved and raised my Black son, tried to make him strong and sensitive, and keep him safe. I fell down. Often. But I got up. We fell down. Often. But we got up. This is not a how-to book, rather it is a “How I did one of the hardest things you can ever try to do, and with faith in yourself and the support of family and community and luck, do it well” book. Jesse Jackson urged us to keep hope alive. Every parent who loves their child or children knows those words as prayer and mantra and instruction. You cannot raise a Black child in America and
not be an optimist, no matter what.
“We have to save our sons and daughters at a time when old-school systemic racism is now shaped and enhanced by climate change, artificial intelligence, social media turbulence, and the relentless replay of ‘black death at the hands of cops’ videos, along with a new outburst of White backlash. In 1969, Gil Scott Heron sang that while people had no food to eat on earth in ‘Whiteys on the Moon.’ Now the destination is Mars. Still. And yet. We have to raise sons and daughters who will not be the meek inheriting the earth. We will fight for them all. We will raise them to fight for their place in the sun. They are our wealth. They are our future. We have always known our Black children’s lives mattered.”
Excerpt from the introduction.
“At a corner table in an upscale restaurant heavy on redwood paneling, scented candles, and a retro sixties atmosphere, Elaine Ellis Comegys and I sat talking about sons. I was a visiting writer in residence at Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio, where Elaine is an associate dean of students. At noon we had set out, walking leisurely from the nearby campus to this restaurant located in ‘downtown,’ an area that is really no more than a five-block strip of retailers, which include a gourmet carryout, a health food store, an art supply shop, a children’s bookstore, and the town’s only theater. Yellow Springs possesses a vaguely aging counterculture feel and the town invoked in me fond memories of a time when my Afro hair was several inches thicker than the close, conservative natural I wore that day.
“Ebullient and warm, Elaine had given me a capsule history of Yellow Springs, population 4,000, including its status as a stop on the Underground Railroad. In May 1993 the town was bucolic, lovely, and so safe that unlocked doors along the wide tree-lined, shaded streets were common. The most serious recent crime wave anyone could remember was one spawned by a serial bicycle thief.
“Psychologically, I was a long way from Washington, DC, where I returned each Thursday evening to spend the weekend with my family. I would be spending a month at Antioch, teaching a workshop on autobiographical writing, and so during lunch that day I gently grilled Elaine, in a sister-to-sister-on-a-white-campus way, to tell me everything she knew that I should know too. Over Elaine’s pasta and my fish, we dredged up academic anecdotes. We had both spent much of our professional lives on historically white campuses and so the revelations and headshaking lasted awhile. But by the time we ordered dessert, we were talking about sons, ours and everyone else’s.
“Elaine and I landed on the gritty shore of this topic, any resistance to it capsized by its inescapable pull on our emotions. For at that moment it was the fate and the crisis of our sons that obsessed and engaged us. Whether we were talking about the schools, a drive-by shooting, the economy, rap music, or the Knicks versus the Bullets, we were really talking about our sons. We talked about them because if we had not yet lost them, we feared we would. And looking into each other’s eyes, hearing the confusion in our own voices, we wondered who could tell us how to get them back.”
Excerpt from ‘Part I: Calling My Name.’