Let Love Rule - Lenny Kravitz Page 0,5

nowhere, pointed at me and my parents, and yelled, “Your mother’s Black and your daddy’s white!” Before that moment, I had never thought about my parents’ skin tones. They were what they were. What difference did it make? Who cared? What was the big deal? The kid’s accusation made no sense to me, but it did get me thinking. I was being ostracized, and I had no idea why.

When I got home that day, Mom knew something was wrong. She also knew that kids have a hard time expressing their feelings. That’s why, years before, she had introduced a game where she became a character named Ruff Ruff, a magical dog. Ruff Ruff was a friend I could tell anything to. He was my mother’s way of getting me to express pent-up feelings.

The game began with Mom asking to me say “Abracadabra.” When I did, just like that, she became Ruff Ruff. Ruff Ruff wanted to hear whatever was on my mind, all the bad things that might have happened during the day, all my fears, all those nightmares about being trapped in a grave. Ruff Ruff would nod or smile or laugh. Ruff Ruff always understood me. Ruff Ruff kept my secrets. Ruff Ruff always made me feel better. To get Mom back, all I had to do was say “Abracadabra” again, and there she was. Roxie Roker was a gifted actress, mother, and empath who understood how to combine all three roles.

Outside the Ruff Ruff/little Lennie dialogue, my mother had her own viewpoint on race. She knew it wasn’t enough to just let me vent my feelings when some kid called me a zebra. She realized an explanation would be needed. And her explanation was simple: I had two heritages, one Russian Jewish and the other African Caribbean, and I should be proud of both. At the same time, she made it clear that the world was always going to see me as only Black. To the world, my skin would be my first and only identification. I accepted her explanation and didn’t object. If that’s the way the world saw me, fine.

Then, and now, I proudly identify as Black.

Dad was also proud to have a Black wife and son. He not only loved my mother, he adored Grandma Bessie as well. He was closer to his mother-in-law than he was to his own mom. He also had great respect for his father-in-law. The two men were tight.

The conflict was never between Dad’s and Mom’s folks. It was between Dad and me. His military training defined him. And he was determined to put that on me. He commanded me to make my bed every morning so perfectly that he could bounce a quarter off it. He tormented me if there was a single book, toy, or article of clothing out of place.

I was just a kid. I never matched up. He was constantly unhappy with me. Yet there were many sides to Sy Kravitz. While he was rigid, he was also rich with charisma. He had the gift of gab. He could talk to anyone. He made people comfortable.

When I was still a toddler, we started traveling upstate as a family to visit my dad’s daughters. I was excited to discover I had sisters, and they were as happy to meet me as I was to meet them. Laurie, Tedi, and I quickly fell into a rhythm, and we became family—all thanks to the gentle strength of Roxie Roker.

And how’s this for true elegance? My mom insisted that when we went on trips to the Bahamas my sisters come as well. She was going to blend this family if it was the last thing she did—and she did. The bond among the various members of my parents’ families grew deeper than anyone could possibly have imagined. My grandparents Joe and Jean Kravitz had turned a cold shoulder to Roxie at first. But it didn’t take them long to realize that the Rokers were extremely special—kind, generous, thoughtful. Sy’s folks soon grew to treasure Mom’s parents, and vice versa. It was a massive lesson in letting love conquer hate. Beyond bias was incredible joy. And many years later when Roxie had the means, she sent money and gifts throughout the family on an ongoing basis, making sure everyone was taken care of.

Grandma Jean and Grandpa Joe lived at 3311 Shore Parkway in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. Here was yet another universe, Old World energy: kosher butchers, delis, synagogues. Like Dad,