Normally I write from the prospective of a teacher. Today, I want to present an issue I experienced as a guardian, and I welcome all feedback on the topic.
During my second year of law school, at the tender age of twenty three, I took on temporary guardianship of my aunt’s eight year old son, Jahi. At the time my aunt was experiencing a difficult period in her life stemming from substance abuse. Although she tried desperately to kick the habit on several occasions, the sickness would ultimately make its way back to her lifestyle. As a result, she was sentenced to six months in county jail for shoplifting. Unwilling to allow my cousin to end up in foster care, I volunteered to care for him.
As the official new matriarch of the family, not because of age, but because of circumstances, my mother was better positioned for the job. However, she had been dealing with my aunt’s addiction prior to my return from college and was burnt out from trying to help her little sister. It was not that my mother wanted to see her nephew go into foster care. In fact, she previously tried getting full custody, but my aunt would not allow it and the backlash was fierce. Quite honestly, I believe her words were more for threat than reality. She was trying to get her sister to see that she would not keep coming to her rescue and that her child’s life was at stake. It was a message of tough love and a warning that my aunt had better get her act together. That is why my mother did not protest when I stepped up to help. Since I lived at home with my parents, my mother had a direct view into Jahi’s care and did not have to worry.
My maternal family is extremely close. I have vivid memories of relatives frequenting our home for a visit, a short stay, or temporary residency whenever needed. This was not exclusive to my household, it was reciprocal throughout the extended family. Undeniably, we often fought as hard as we loved, but somehow, we always managed to repair broken bridges. Our motto, “Tongue and cheek may fall out, but blood is thicker than water.” Translation, we can fight, cuss each other out, or take a break from each other, but we will never stop being family.
One of the promises I made to my aunt was to bring Jahi to the jail every two weeks for visitation. At that time, I attended law school full-time and worked part-time. Since I did not have children of my own, I did not know what was in store for me. I was just riding the wave that this child was already familiar with my parent’s home. Therefore, an easy adjustment was foreseeable, so I thought.
This arrangement was a labor of love so, there was no fee attached. Neither did I receive government assistance. Officially, I was not a legal guardian, I was an unofficial caregiver. Had something serious occurred to Jahi that required legal decision making, I would not have had authority. Despite this, I took care of all Jahi’s personal needs. Everywhere I went, he went. This includes sometimes attending class with me as well as the African dance class I took during school break. My classmates and everyone unfamiliar with me thought Jahi was my child.
To my family and close friends my pairing with Jahi was nothing out of the ordinary. Since he was a baby he was often seen in my arms. At the age of fifteen, I became his first babysitter. When my nephew was born later that year, I would eventually tow them both around as they grew into teenagers. When I left for college, it was the longest period I spent away from them. They were my boys and they looked up to me. Still, no matter how influential my presence was in their lives, no one else could break either of their mother/son bonds. On our first visit with my aunt, this was even more apparent.
When visitation day arrived Jahi was overjoyed to see his mother and she could not get enough of him. The jail allowed liberal touching between inmates and their children of which my aunt took advantage. I don’t think a minute passed where she was not rubbing his head or kissing him. As a result, time flew by. Leaving was a little tough, but manageable. He never cried as he had grown a tough exterior over the years that he still carries today. We went home and continued with our routine. What was not apparent was the anger he suppressed by seeing his mother in jail and having to leave her there. This anger did not manifest until he returned to school the following day. That is when I received the first of several calls from Jahi’s teacher. I was called in for a meeting because his behavior was out of the ordinary; he was provoking fights with other students. Shocked, because I missed the signs, I attended the first meeting with Jahi’s teacher with an open mind and heart.
Upon first glance, the teacher did not know what to make of me. I looked more like an older child/sister than a mother figure. After full disclosure, the teacher suggested that the visit was probably the trigger. Having majored in sociology and studied the dynamics of the family, I agreed. We took a collaborative approach to monitor his behavior. Normally, I would have spanked Jahi for acting out in school. That would have been the typical punishment for any child in my family or any black family. Thankfully, I understood that his behavior stemmed from something other than sheer defiance. So, I knew to step outside of family tradition and started the first of many talks with him. Although our conversation went well on surface, he kept a lot bottled up. Things went back to normal until the next visitor’s day. Like clockwork, he repeated the same bad behavior and every two weeks thereafter.
Finally, it came to a point where I had to decide whether it would have been better for Jahi’s mental health to discontinue visitation. I spoke with my aunt about it over the phone and of course she abhorred the idea. Those visits were the one thing that gave her joy and kept her hopeful about coming home. On the other hand, it also allayed Jahi’s fears that his mother was okay, something he needed to know. My aunt never doubted that he was in good hands with me, but like any mother, she wanted to see and hold her child. She also agreed to talk to him acting out. Over time his behavior became somewhat controlled, but the underlying anger was still there. I often watched this eight year old sing Tupac’s song, “Dear Momma,” word for word. I was quite intrigued at his level of comprehension and how he grew strength from the song. It was a long six months, but with my guidance and his teacher’s compassion, he adjusted.
In the beginning of my guardianship, I did not know how to gauge my parent skills. My treatment of Jahi mimicked what I would have wanted for my child if I was in that situation. Therefore, I made sure he was well fed, neat, clean, and appropriately dressed for school. One of my male friends told me where to get his hair cut and we made our way to that barber’s chair every two weeks. It was not until I saw Jahi’s report card that I got official feedback. He made the honor roll. I became overjoyed for him and for me because it was proof that I was doing something right.
When my aunt finally came home, it was a happy reunion for all of us. Eventually, after some years, my aunt did beat her addiction. She would move her family to the south to be near my mother who had recently vacated New York. There, she continued to dote on Jahi and his new little sister. My aunt was Jahi’s biggest fan as he pursued his dreams of NBA stardom. His high school graduation came with great anticipation of his entry to college in the fall. Unfortunately, his mother would not live to see him step foot on campus as a freshman. She passed away from a massive heart attack that summer.
Today, Jahi operates a successful nonprofit that centers around his passion for basketball. He has year-round basketball youth camps for girls and boys. In addition, he facilitates a summer league for adults, all under the Atlanta Entertainment Basketball League (AEBL). The summer league is played every weekend from the end of June to the end of August. Many of the players have played in other amateur leagues and some play professionally overseas. Even a few NBA and WNBA players have been known to grace the court in their off season. These free events are open to the public every Saturday and Sunday starting with the women’s games at 1:00PM, then the men’s beginning at 3:30PM. This summer the KIPP Atlanta Collegiate school is hosting the site. The address is 98 Anderson Ave, NW, Atlanta, GA.
For almost a decade, Jahi’s participation with the AEBL’s mission of service has provided Atlanta with youth basketball training, free summer entertainment, an avenue for players to practice and be scouted, plus a safe place for community gathering. For his work and dedication, Jahi was honored this year by the city of Atlanta and the Atlanta Hawks during half-time at one of their games. I could not have been prouder of my cousin.
Knowing the present outcome does not quite quell my previous concerns about whether it was beneficial exposing a child his age to the penal system. I guess it all depends on the child and the circumstances. Arguably, Jahi could have adjusted with just phone calls from his mother. There is no telling if the aftermath could have produced the same results, nor can we ignore the possible circumstances had her sentence been much longer. We will never know. That is why I throw the question back into the public’s hands for your opinion. To visit or not to visit, that is the question? What is your answer?
By: Paige Adams
A Paige from my Book 