When the Rainbow Ain't Enuf...

You know the story by now, 25-year-old mother of four drives van into a river, killing three of her children, plus herself. Her eldest son escaped and now must live with the horror of this ordeal and the pain of losing his mother and three siblings, but the guilt of not being able to save them either. As a mother you felt for the children, as a woman you couldn’t understand what drives such an action, as an African-American, you just knew she was White.

99.9 percent of these types of child murder-suicide stories in the news seem to be committed by White women; at least that’s how it feels. However, when the facts started rolling in on this case, it started to take on a different feel. When you heard she was 25 and had four kids you got that funny feeling in your stomach, then when her name was released and you found out her oldest had a variation of her name, your throat got a little dry.
Now the story reads: 25-year-old Lashanda Armstrong kills herself and three of her four children by driving into a river, only 10-year-old Lashaun survives. So now you need to know that happened, what drove that sister to do such a thing, how could she do that to her babies, because that’s some white people shit.

My Blackness won’t allow me to believe this woman killed herself and her children. Especially after her landlord told investigators and reporters that he changed the locks to her place twice in the last six months or that a relative reported a domestic violence incident that may have involved her boyfriend. You add those factors in and if you’re Blackness is anything like mine, you’ve concluded that she was being chased and lost control of her vehicle and died trying to protect herself and her children.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. It may take days to sort out what happened. We may never find out what happened, but what is for sure, is there’s a mother and three of her children gone, leaving one to go on through life bearing the scars of this one day. I guess the rainbow wasn’t enough; she needed something real, something that she couldn’t find here, someone sing a Black girl’s song…