A View From a Pew: Loved, But Not Always Raised

There was a time—back in the day, and not as far back as we sometimes like to place it—when in the Black community, mothers loved their sons, but they raised their daughters.

The love was never the issue. The love was loud. The love was visible. The love was fierce. Sons were hugged, praised, defended, and protected. They were told, “You my baby. Don’t let nobody mess with you.” And that mattered—because in a world that has never loved Black boys gently, that kind of affection was survival.

But daughters? Daughters were trained.

Girls were taught how to cook, how to clean, how to carry themselves, how to speak up and when to be quiet. They were prepared for a world that would not be kind. They were raised with responsibility on their backs and expectations on their shoulders. Girls were taught early that the world would demand something from them. They learned how to carry responsibility before they learned how to rest. They were expected to mature faster, work harder, and complain less. They were corrected more quickly, disciplined more consistently, and held to higher standards.

I see a truth we don’t always want to say out loud: Love was poured into sons. Expectations were poured into daughters.

And expectations shape behavior.

Too many boys grew up knowing they were valuable—but not knowing they were accountable. They were shielded from consequences instead of shaped by them. Mistakes were excused instead of corrected. Potential was praised, but discipline was postponed.

And then one day, those boys became men—and the world was no longer willing to make their plates, clean up their messes, or explain away their failures.

From where I sit, I’ve learned something important: You can love someone deeply and still leave them unprepared. You see, love without instruction is incomplete.
Affection without formation is dangerous.  Love without structure creates comfort, but not character. Protection without correction creates safety, but not strength. Affection without responsibility creates confidence, but not competence.

That’s why so many men struggled to transition—from being somebody’s son to being somebody’s husband, father, leader, or provider. They were loved enough to feel special, but not trained enough to feel responsible. Sons were loved to feel secure. But security without responsibility creates entitlement, sees strength as optional, and mistakes manhood for privilege instead of duty.

Meanwhile, daughters—raised with expectations—grew into women who could survive storms, manage households, carry communities, and still show up with grace. But many of them did it while carrying the emotional weight of men who had never been fully raised.

You see, raising a child isn’t about who you favor—it’s about who you form.

And that imbalance has consequences. Homes feel the strain. Marriages feel the gap. Communities feel the absence.

Don't get me wrong, I’m not here to assign blame. I’m here to call for balance.

Love your sons—but raise them too. Teach them how to hear “no” without breaking. Teach them how to be accountable without becoming angry. Teach them that real strength shows up in consistency, not control.

Raise sons who know how to apologize. Raise sons who know how to lead without dominating. Raise sons who understand that being a man is not about being served—it’s about being dependable.

Because the future doesn’t just need men who were adored. It needs men who were instructed. Men who were challenged. Men who were taught that love comes with responsibility.

From this pew, I believe healing begins when affection and accountability sit side by side—when love hugs tight, but discipline stands firm.

That’s how boys become men. That’s how families grow stronger. That’s how communities rise—not on love alone, but on love that raises.

And that is my view…from a pew.