When I’m asked why I never had kids, my standard answer is, I’ve spent my life in mortal fear of being tethered to another human in a manner from which I can’t legally walk away if I choose.
That’s an honest answer, but it’s not the complete one. The second part, which I always leave out, is that I was petrified of having a tard. There’s no history of tardiness in my family. But no matter your family history, having kids is always a roll of the DNA dice, and I couldn’t face the possibility of having a child who would be, shall we say, more work and less payoff.
Yes, that’s a terribly unflattering thing to admit. But it’s true.
There’s no changing the reality of the child’s condition, so put the best face on it. “That millstone is a blessing! That albatross is actually a majestic eagle.”
When a problem is intractable, when “fix it” isn’t an option, you cope, and sometimes that means detaching from reality
That’s why the mentally ill shooter problem is intractable. Parents saddled with defectives must live with the hope that the condition is reversible. And most of the time they’ll live with that hope in the face of all evidence to the contrary.
The big nightmare is the very real possibility that the problems with black America are intractable. That there’s a disproportionately large segment of black America that’s simply not salvageable by love, lucre, or religion. A segment that at best can be kept in check with rigorous sifting via lifetime imprisonment of the worst elements, and even that’s a half measure.
Black unsalvageables are America’s “special needs” children. And we’re tethered to them. We can shift them from one city to another, one state to another, but there’s no avoiding the obligation. We birthed it, it’s ours. And I want to be very clear that this is as much a problem for high-functioning blacks as it is for whites. Hell, they have to deal with the burden of their special-needs kin more than anyone.high-functioning blacks as it is.