Member-only story
My Declaration of Emotional Independence
When my children were treated unjustly, I reacted with anger and aggression. I now realize there’s a different way.
It was supposed to be a fun day at the park during one of those sweaty, sultry summer days in Chicago. I promised my nephews and sons that they could run around all they wanted, but first I needed them to accompany me to a department store so I could pick up some much-needed items.
They trailed into the store behind me like a row of ducklings. My youngest nephew Ibrahim was wearing a cape—making it clear that he would avail any opportunity to save the world if it ever came down to that. The boys were playfully tagging one another while scampering around me. As I pushed my cart along, I had an eerie feeling that I was being watched. From the periphery of my vision, I noticed an employee at a distance, her narrowed eyes piercing me. I felt self-conscious and uncomfortable. “I’m sure it’s nothing, just in my head,” I reassured myself, continuing with my shopping.
It was then that my younger son, Idrees, inadvertently stepped on an infant’s plush toy that was lying in his path. Within seconds, the employee came rushing toward us and yelled, “Do not step on that!”
