By Alycia Hardy
FFN Video: 3:39-4:55
Nana, at the time, was in her 80s, a devoted pastor who promptly held service from 11 am – 1:30 pm every Sunday, and a compassionate giver who had a heart for God and God’s heart for children. She had cared for, nurtured, loved on, scolded, fed, sang to, taught, clothed, and comforted countless children as though they were her own. And that is exactly what she did for my son, her great grandson. She would never describe what she did as family, friend, and neighbor (FFN) child care only that she was being a blessing and helping her family.
As a first-time mom, I wanted my child to be safe. Yes, baby gates, smoke detectors, covered outlets, free of choking hazards, and all the other things that immediately come to mind when thinking of child safety. And yet, safety also meant he had a sense of belonging, he would know “who he is and whose he is” and would be seen for the beautiful and brilliant child he was. I knew Nana would sing him songs praising God and let my son know he was “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14). She would affirm his identity as a Black child and honor his culture and our family values. She would tell him stories, seeding the history of his family and the legacy of generations before him. I knew my son was safe because she also made me feel safe. Every morning she prayed over me, many mornings she fed me, and my drop off was never complete without a full rundown of the books they would read, songs they would sing, and activities she had planned.
The mosaic of stories that comprise the legacy of FFN child care in Black communities is a deeply rooted part of our culture. It is a form of safety and protection that we choose for our children. The FFN care providers we entrust create a home away from home and set a firm foundation where our children can confidently flourish unapologetically and boldly in the beauty of their Blackness. FFN care is often viewed as low-quality and unsafe because it is disconnected from systems of standardization and too closely connected to Black women’s forced free labor. Black women have always been at the center of the child care system in America. A system of non-parental child care that began with their forced labor caring for the children of their enslavers and through the period of emancipation when they made up the brunt of child care workers as nannies and nursemaids to white families who entrusted them to protect, nurture, and care for their children. We were the standard; despite the mistreatment, disrespect, and shamefully low wages when we were eventually paid. That history is tethered to what the child care systems look like today, and especially
for FFN providers. It anchors the false assumptions, values, and beliefs about FFN child care as low quality and unsafe.
I will never be able to thank Nana enough for how she poured into my and my family’s life ensuring my son was safe and loved. And how she, as many other Black women (and men), reclaimed the legacy of Black women’s care work in this country to be a gift of love passed to the next generation. One day I will pass on this legacy to my children and grandchildren. Today, NBCDI is working in community to reclaim this legacy, elevate it’s value, and co-create systems that honor, resource, and support FFN child care and the Black providers, families, and children connected to it.
