Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. National Day of Service means many things to different people.  When I was younger I knew who he was and what he did but if I am being honest, at the time the greatest thing he did was create a holiday that I got to spend with my hardworking parents.  Truth be told, my father worked so much that the holiday was not a holiday at all.  My mother was the one that made sure every year we joined in the Martin Luther King Jr. (MLK) March and went to any and every rally that was held in his name. 

As a child, I did not understand the meaning or the magnitude of the day.  I did not understand why people were crying in the street grateful for the change made in their life.  Truth be told, I was born into privilege.  Not privilege as far as money, power, and respect, but privilege in school choice, choosing any seat on the bus I wanted and being judged for who I was instead of what I was (for a short period).  That kind of privilege was given by birthright, whereas people like my mother and father had to earn the right to go to integrated schools, have their pick of bus seats, and even choose the community in which they were able to live.  These things were very “back in the day” to me, but for my mother, those marches were a symbol of the change that bettered their lives and the lives of their children’s children’s children. 

Imagine having a dream so big that it changes the lives of everyone.  I by no means am MLK.  However, my dream is for all children to see themselves in the books they read or are read to.  I did not know this was my dream until I had a child.  That child was also born into privilege.  She is a product of two first-generation college graduates with advanced degrees.  She via the school lottery can attend any school that she or we want her to.  She can ride the bus and sit anywhere on the bus.  She can walk freely into her school without being mobbed or harassed.  She can drink from any fountain and swim in any pool she likes.  She enjoys the same privilege of having both of her parents’ names on her birth certificate as I did as a child. 

Now that the Respect for Marriage Act has passed, she will never know the struggle it took for both her Moms to be listed as parents on her birth certificate.  She will never know what it is like for her moms to fight to be a beneficiary on life insurance policies.  She will never know that we ever had to fight for her to even exist in this world.  It is because others had an MLK-like dream that not only made their life better but the lives of others. 

My dream came when my child was born and we started a library for them.  That library includes superhero books, scary books, and books that teach you how to count and recognize letters.  Countless numbers of books contribute to their worldview.  The issue is there were very few books that existed with their family in mind.  How can we teach and preach inclusion at an early age if it is not introduced?  How can we want the best for our children and foster them to be their best selves when the material we read and give to them does not look like the life they lead or the place they hold in their family or for themselves?  This is my MLK-like dream.  My dream, as impossible as it may seem, is to have all children see themselves in the books they read. 

Families come in many different forms.  While the government debates who is right and who is wrong our children are growing up in a society that does not see them for who they are.  Yes, children are impressionable.  Yes, children can be led down pathways.  The issue is we as parents decide which pathways and what impressions we bestow on them to make them good functioning adults. 

When I was young, I would have been overjoyed to read a book that told me who I was going to be was as normal as breathing.  Instead of carrying around guilt, shame, and a fear of not being the same as everyone else.  I would have better understood that loving or liking the same gender as me is nothing more than love in a different form.  For eight-teen years I had to be someone other than myself to make my church happy, make my parents happy, and be the grandchild my grandparents bragged about.  Never knowing an alternative existed. 

Now, my child proudly exclaims they have two mommies.  My child is aware that some children are raised by their grandparents, some by their aunts and uncles, some are adopted, some have two daddies, and some have a daddy and mommy and step-daddies and step-mommies.  My child understands that what makes a family is not the people, it is the love and fellowship of the people that make the family.  We have a chosen family which includes people that have chosen to love each other and are not related by blood.  Many families are structured that way because our given family has exiled us for proudly being themselves for whatever reason.  To me, the love and bond are stronger when people choose to love you instead of when they are obligated to love you.  That obligation comes with strict boundaries that sometimes cost another person their soul. Our children are our light.  As such they should be the beacon of how we do things. 

How do you MLK? In other words, what is your MLK-like dream?  Though I may not march or attend a rally on the day anymore, I too have a dream.  I dream that all children can see themselves and their families in the books they read.  I dream that our children learn inclusion, acceptance, and that love exists no matter the family structure.  I dream that all children are proud of who they are and who they will become and live that life unapologetically.  I manifest my dream one book at a time.  “Ma, Where’s Mommy” is the rally of that dream.  Buy yourself a copy and manifest your dream. 

I thank Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. for being a dreamer and being a product of his dream. 

Happy MLK day!