05/20/2026
JC SPEAKS
🌺 When I Got to Be a Mom 🌺
My Children Were Privileged With Me
People hear “privileged” and immediately think money.
That was never my story.
My children were privileged with me.
With my presence.
My intention.
My imagination.
My softness.
My protection.
My mind.
That was the real wealth in our home.
Because most months, survival was strategic.
I remember tax season meaning catch-up season.
Paying off utility bills.
Traffic tickets.
Failure to appear fines.
Court costs tied to things I simply could not afford at the time.
No insurance.
Expired tags.
Altered temp tags.
Not because I was reckless.
Because I was surviving.
I couldn’t risk not driving.
I had children to get to doctor appointments.
School.
Therapy.
Surgeries.
Recovery visits.
Life did not stop because I was poor.
And honestly? I couldn’t even get a 'SIS' privilege drive.
So I drove anyway.
And when the police started pulling me over constantly, I remember the fear of jail more than anything else.
Not for myself.
For my children.
Being away from them felt unbearable.
I trusted almost no one with them.
The thought of my children being mistreated, emotionally harmed, or abused while I was gone triggered something primal in me.
So even during some of the hardest moments of my life…
my mind stayed centered on protecting theirs.
And yes… I still have every court receipt.
Every paid ticket.
Every bond receipt.
Every reinstatement paper after my license was revoked through systematic poverty.
Receipts of survival.
Because contrary to what people assume, I wasn’t out here being careless.
I was trying to survive while raising four children with very little help.
Child support was a s**t show lead by 🤡s who were bitter I wouldn't chase them.
I remember months after meeting my now husband, he learned about my driving fears.
The fear of being pulled over.
The fear of warrants.
The fear of jail.
And one day… he paid the last $1000 I needed to get my license reinstated completely.🥲
No more tickets.
No more traffic burdens hanging over my head.
He refused to see me in jail.
That mattered to me deeply.
And before that, Chase helped me pay my way out of obstacles too. 💐
I was grateful.
Because there were times I had been moved from jail to jail for days, away from my children, terrified and mentally unraveling wondering if my babies were truly safe.
No one could care for my children and all of their responsibilities the way I could.
Especially my son and his diabetes.
Nobody wanted the pressure of managing that responsibility.
So suddenly, it became grounds for helping me get home.
Not because I mattered enough.
Because caring for my children was too much work.
And despite all of that…
my children still experienced magic.
I had little explorers. 💐
Nature babies.
I bought them bug-catching kits from Walgreens so they could explore our bug-filled backyard like it was a wildlife sanctuary.
Hence my multi award-winning children’s book Bugging a Bug! 🐞💐
Absolutely rooted in real-life events.
They mourned dead birds in the street.
Cried over injured animals.
Wanted to help everybody.
I taught mine empathy.
Heart.
Compassion.
And it showed.
Other children naturally gravitated toward my kids.
They led without trying.
Their intelligence, emotional depth, creativity, and awareness always stood out.
And honestly?
That came from me.
I used books to learn motherhood because healthy examples around me were limited.
Every childhood bullying experience I survived inside my childhood home for being a nerd, a reader, a deep thinker…
eventually became useful.
Books taught me intentional parenting.
Storytelling taught me imagination.
Black history taught me resourcefulness.
My ancestors survived with far less than what I had access to.📌
So I learned to transform trash into treasure.
Thrift stores became gold mines.
Clearance racks became opportunities.
I learned how to create abundance emotionally before I ever experienced it financially.🎯
That’s why I don’t live from a lack mindset.
I live from a wealthy one.
Everything feels like a gift when you didn’t grow up receiving much.
And somehow, while surviving all of that…
I still became the science fair mom.
The class party mom.
The parent-teacher conference mom.
The school dance mom.
The VIP list mom.
The mom waking up early to comb three heads of hair one after another before any occasion, and sometimes school if braids weren't at play💐
The mom who eventually learned to cut her son’s hair because barbers required money.
And eventually, he only wanted momma cutting it anyway.
I taught lessons through privileges, not fear.
Talking more than whooping.
Listening more than assuming.
Therapy was introduced into my home early because every child needed something different, and it was my responsibility to make sure they received the care they needed emotionally too.
Introducing them to God mattered to me too.🙏🏿
We went to church when I had enough gas to get there. (Believers Temple under Bishop Calvin Scott who transitioned recently) 🕊 That man helped guide me.
And I taught my children to tithe with whatever change I could gather.
Something was always better than nothing.
God knew what it was.
And God carried us.
Like the rest of us, I am perfectly imperfect.
But one thing is certain:
I was deeply intentional about the humans I was raising.
And that matters to me more than perfection ever will.
These days, I protect my nervous system differently.
I understand now that access is sacred.
Not everyone deserves continued access to me.
Titles, entitle.📌⬅️ READ THAT AGAIN👀
Now imagine having to explain overlooking intentional motherhood because it didn’t look loud, broken, or performative enough to the MOST HIGH.
Speak truth. Build anyway.
— JC Sykes
