Girl Time

All right folks.  My tech skills are obviously a bit lacking tonight as for the life of me I can't make the picture anything but sideways.  And of course, we were not laying on our sides to take this picture.  Instead, my lovely Elisabeth and I had a girls afternoon at a hair care event in our city.  It was specifically for people of color and I was definately in the minority.  I didn't mind a bit.  It is important for Elisabeth, who is 11 now (and incidently HOW did my baby get to be 11?) to be surrounded by strong brown and black women. These women in addition to many owning their own businesses, know a lot about hair and self care.  People were friendly and easy to engage in conversation--course I am chatty by nature so you generally have to give me the cut direct for me to realize you don't want me hanging around!

They spoke knowledgeably about the dangers hidden in many of the cosmetics and hair products that are used.  They spoke on the importance of healthy diets and having a healthy self love.  There were free samples, free healthy food snacks and a time to talk and build connections.  She had a wonderful time and really enjoyed it.  She told me afterwards that it is usually hard to sit still so long but that this was interesting.  She is of an age where she has much more say (and often her own cash) involved in purchases and I feel that since she is such a fashion forward young woman, I want her to hopefully make smart choices that will enhance her beauty if that is what she wants, but not undermine her health.

We have had this gathering on our calendar for weeks but it was this weekend that a picture came through my Facebook feed of a TRA black child with a photo shoot in a cotton field with her white parents.  Seriously?  I have no words for the anger I feel at the insensitivity.  That lovely young lady could have been in a field of wildflowers if you were going for the nature look.  It did not have to be something associated with slavery and degradation of a people.

Do I think the parents intended it?  Nope, but I sure do think they were insensitive and that they need to do things like what we did today.  There have to be times my kids are not in the minority. Whether it is me being the only white face at a birth family reunion, or a gathering like this,  Adopting my children is not a case of them somehow becoming me with more melatonin.  It also means I have an obligation to honor and celebrate who they are and help them to feel positive about themselves.

Aside from all of that, it was just a "girl time" experience for Lissa and I. At 11 she is becoming a witty, sometimes sarcastic, but pretty clever and enjoyable companion.  It was a super fun experience.  I also came away with a contact for a photographer.  She was at the event and had a really calm demeanor.  We need to think about getting another family portrait done. The kids have changed so much since the last one.  Finding one that is a good fit for Chet can be a challenge but I really liked this woman's vibe.  We shall see.

Land of the Free?

When I finish my latest mystery novel I plan on reading a book I just took from the library today.  It is called The Heritage  by Howard Bryant and focusses on black athletes, and the politics of patriotism in the sports world.

I am deeply disturbed by the recent NFL ruling that players on the field must stand for the national anthem.   White folks are telling POC once more to do what they are told. The "yes massa" mentality reeks in this decision.  These men can be paid highly for their skills but this decision makes it clear that they are performing at the whim of white owners.  White owners can make them wear pink accessories for breast cancer month (and frankly, I think there is nothing that looks stranger to me than guys playing football with pink socks and gloves) They can wear things to honor our veterans.  None of these are bad.  My point is that they are expected to put forth the agenda of the owners and the NFL. They are not allowed to use their positions to put forth respectfully, an agenda of their own.

The rise of nationalism in our country all ready scares the be-jesus out of me.  I have friends who have been stopped at checkpoints while on vacation in the Northeast.  They were stopped strictly because the family "didn't match."  They were relieved they carried birth certificates showing they were related.

Really?  In 2018 in the USA we need to carry papers.  There are no words for how this chills me.  The "real ID" license also chills me.  I will have to get one.  I need to get into federal buildings for my work and as of 2020 I can't without it.  But the whole national data base things runs counter to the foundation of freedom that exist(ed) in our country and which I interpret as the intent of the much touted founding fathers.  "Having papers" sounds a lot more like Nazi Germany to me and makes me worry for my children and their future.  Somehow all this feels intertwined to me and I hope that reading this book will be part of helping me sort out my feelings and opinions more cogently.

I love the Grammys but. . .

I love music.  Almost every kind of music there is. There is one genre I don't particularly love but I will not even put out there what it is.  The reason is that to me, music is an important way for us to express the things that our spoken words or innermost thoughts are afraid to say.

I loved the Grammy's this year, though I confess I have DVR'd the last 30 minutes so that I will watch it tonight.  I also was loathe to give up my 30 minutes of reading time so I am having my cake and eating it too with the magic of recording.

Lots of my favorite artists won this year--notably Kendrick Lamar and Bruno Mars.  What was also notable to me was who did not win.  Namely Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee.  Despacito was the biggest hit (obviously we are just talking about my opinion here) in 2017  For actual stats, I looked up how many youtude hits it had.  There were something like 4 billion by October of last year.  I did not bother to look up how many sales there were, or downloads of the song, but I am sure there were high numbers there. 

So I ask you, why did they not win?  I believe simply they did not win because it was a latin group singing a latin song and this was a "mainstream" award.  We haven't come all that far people.

A House Divided

The NFL has brought the sharp division of beliefs in our country into focus with the many players kneeling during the national anthem.  I support the protest;  I know many who don't.  However I was literally chilled last night to hear that there would be efforts starting at the White House to make standing during the national anthem mandatory.

Regardless of whether one feels this is "disrespectful" or any of the other terms I have heard and seen bandied about, this should frighten all of us.  Compelling us to stand is not the beliefs our country was founded on. Such dictates bring to mind facist governments and dictatorships around the world where terrified citizens stand at rigid attention.

It has also been another learning experience for our family, as my brother in law unfriended both myself and my wife because our profile pictures on Facebook indicate our support of the protest.  I was sad that he did this without dialogue.  That seems emblematic of the divisions within our country now.  I felt worse when my wife texted him privately and he harshly answered in ways that made her deeply sad.  My BIL is  a funny guy much of the time.  He is possessed of biting wit and a facility with words that lends itself to riotious laughter at family meals.  However his belief system is very rigid and I always hoped that our life was just a quiet way to help open his heart to the fact that everything is not that black and white.  He refused to come to our wedding for instance, but was willing to come to our reception at the house. I was okay with that then, although my wife was angry.  "we're good enough to eat our food" she ranted.  I was sure that it was a step toward understanding that opportunities to break bread together would help him see that we are not so very different. 

He has always been a generous uncle to our children, yet I can not overlook the racist tenor of his posts. When I talk to him about kids shot in playgrounds by police, unarmed black men shot when they are doing what the police told them to do--I am always told "my kids are different."  They aren't.  Sure my kids are smart cute and talented.  But they are black.  They always will be black.  And the only reason he can see the other facets of them is because he knows them and has known them all their lives.

He can't accept that.  He can't accept the fact that my kids have been followed in stores, called poop face and worse and other racially based things.  Probably more I don't even know about because as much as i strive for open dialogue I am deeply aware that no kid tells their parents everything.  They have hurts they have chosen not to share, of this I am sure.

And so for the moment, we are a family divided.  Thanksgiving is typically at our home and I am not sure what that will look like this year.  Sometimes I think we should attempt to gather civilly and build on that which is common and good to us--the love that we all share, the memories, the laughter and the pie.  Sometimes I worry that this is just perpetuating a lie and that my kids will see this capitulation as white family being more important. Part of me is sad because I suspect he must have always felt this way, and how could I have not known?  I feel stupid, and duped, angry, afraid and alone. 

And if I feel that way, it is only a fraction of what my kids, my friends who are POC feel.  These are deeply disturbing times.

Take a knee, white America

I stand with the protestors.  I stand, or would kneel with those players who are trying to quietly and respectfully say to White America--"Wake Up!  Check your privilege.  Black Lives Matter."  As a mom of children of color I worry for my kids when they are out.  I worry about the young teen who loves hoodies now and is sooooo into the color black.  I worry for my 21 year old who is sure he knows it all and is often walking home from a late shift at the restaurant.  I worry that my young 10 year old daughter will be accused of "asking for it"   Her lovely pre-teen body looks older than her years.  Black girls want it, don't you know?

I am appalled that our country is even in this place.  I am still trying to figure out how we got here--or worse, if we were always here and I was so privileged I didn't know it.  I am so scared by the fact that there seems to be no way to even talk about this issue.  People either support BLM or they don't.  Those that don't, at least in my experience don't want to talk.  From the few I have managed to engage in dialogue this is what I got:

*no one owns slaves these days so this is a non issue. Everyone has the same opportunities.
*football players make millions of dollars and have no right to express their views on the field. aka they are naughty employees
*taking a knee is disrespectful to our flag and our country.  (I find this one particularly interesting as kneeling is a common posture in prayer. Also it is somewhat subservient (such as swearing fealty to a lord or king long ago.)
*if they want to protest they should do it off the field (but they should not block traffic, they should not shout, they should not use violence, they should not. . . the list is endless)
*it should be All Lives Matter
*if they did what the police told them, if they obeyed the laws of our great country, there would be no problems.

The problem is in my eyes, that for there to be a solution, white America has to be prepared to be uncomfortable.  We have to own that we are the problem.  The fact that my extended family can't see that and quietly unfriend me on social media for my views is emblematic of how divisive this is--of how unwilling the empassioned are to hear another view.  The people who did this love my kids, but they see them as somehow "other."  As in, my kids would never get shot by the police because I raised them right.

I hope to all the gods people pray to that the folks who say that are right.  But statistics show that they may not be. And is it even reasonable to assume that EVERY single unarmed black person who was shot was not raised correctly.  It just surpasses the bounds of reason.

I won't let my 13 year old son play outside with a cosplay decorated water gun.  I won't let him wear a Halloween costume that looks threatening and is dark colors.  Being seen by traffic is only part of it.  He could also be seen by a nervous home owner, or a rookie police officer who views the world through a skewed lens.  He will be out with friends on his own for the first time.  What if they do something silly?  They are 13 and I didn't always make the best choice at that age.  But I didn't worry about getting killed either. My son will go as a vampire rabbit.  His choice when I nixed all the others and it is funny.  It is white. It is safe.

But that situation is part of the dialogue of life for black America.  How to stay safe.  How to be heard. May we somehow hear what is really being said.

Shea Moisture Products

While I am not a POC, I have 5 kids who are.  Thus, in order to be an informed parent and to help them learn to take care of their hair, I am pretty versed in hair products.  I loved the Shea Moisture products though they were not our only products of choice.  Shout out to Talijah Wajaad hair oil, plain old Suave coconut conditionar, AsIAm products, Proclaim products and the Cantu natural hair moisturizer. So clearly, in our "bathroom salon" Shea Moisturizer was not the only game in town.  But the reason there are a variety of things is because all my kids have different hair textures.  Their hair needs different care in the winter than in the summer.  When KC dyes his frohawk the colored parts need a different kind of love.

I also confess that I rarely watch ads. The SuperBowl might be the exception to that.  But in general, I am pretty legendary for not seeing "the" ad everyone is talking about.  My wife and I do piece work at night.  Ads are either muted so we can chat, or I am running to the kitchen to put the tea pot on or change a load of wash.  So I never saw the ad that Shea Moisture produced until I was on social media and a few family (some of whom are stylists) posted it.

I watched it dumbfounded.  First of all, to me, knowing what I know about my hair (straight thin white people hair) and my kids hair we have totally different hair needs.  In that list of products I mentioned earlier?  There is 1, exactly 1 product we can all use and it is NOT Shea Moisture products.  Nope, it is the old Suave coconut conditioner.  I can use about a dime sized amount of it on my hair twice a week.  Where they might use a ton to detangle or co-wash, I use literally a dime sized amount.  If I used any of the oil rich products that their hair loves and needs, I would look like a slimey headed person.  My hair is not as oily as in my youth but it is not dry by any stretch of the imagination.  I can't go more than a day without washing it or you can totally tell.

So with that information in mind, you would assume that people who actually MAKE hair products would understand that different hair needs different products. The blonde and the redhead in their ad?  They don't need the same product as a POC.  There is a single token POC in that ad.  If their products have expanded to include white folks, then in my opinion there should have been 3 POC and one white person, going "wow! they even have products for my hair!!"

See, even though I don't watch ads, I know my kids do.  I want my kids to be proud of how they look, the hair and skin and beautiful long eyelashes that they have been gifted with in this life.  I found out not all that long ago that the reason KC used to draw himself in cartoon form with spikey hair was because he hated his curls.  Hated them?  The curls I loved to detangle and scritch with my fingers when we did hair?

Lissa for years wanted straight hair and we had so many talks about loving the hair she has and why straightening it would damage her hair.  She too had times of "hating" her hair, though eventually most of her dislike centered around the time involved in hair care rather than her hair itself.  She investigated locks and decided to grow those.

I want my children to see people like them using products designed for them.  There should be handsome young black men like my sons or smart pretty black girls like my daughters in those Shea Moisture ads. It wasn't just a marketing mistake. It was a slap in the face to black people.

Womans March Weekend

The changing of the guard has happened and our country has a new president.  It has been a strange week for me emotionally.  I have felt (and still feel) that the results of this election showed me that I needed to be in meaningful dialogue with those who don't see the world through the same lens that I do.  The majority of my friends IRL and on social media do, but there are some Trump folks that I am friends with.

What shocks me is that they aren't really interested in meaningful dialogue.  In a long thread with a friend on FB the gist of his responses was that "the election is over. Get over it."  Obviously this is not what I and a number of other respondents were saying.  We voiced our fears.  I reached out and said that I wanted to know why he felt good about the result.  What great changes did he expect and look forward to.  Crickets.  Seriously.  Just more rhetoric of getting over the election and no response to the concerns that I and others shared about health care, LGBT rights, the environment, the black community etc.

Obviously this left me disheartened.  I have pretty much always avoided talking politics and religion with my friends. I feel that people share many different interests and we don't need to agree all the time but we also don't need to make each other uncomfortable.  I have since come to feel that this is not a good stance to take.  I need to share why I am concerned for my family in a Trump presidency.  I need to respectfully share why I am opposed to a number  his ideology.  But I also believe firmly that if you do  believe that things will be better I want to know why.  And how.  Because clearly I have lived for too long in my blue state bubble and now I am faced with what seems like an incomprehensible reality.

So on the heels of that rather depressive situation came a weekend where our country protested.  So many marches in so many cities.  I had friends marching in Boston, NY, Washington, KY and OH and TX.  It was a strong and powerful message sent across our country and around the world as marches of solidarity took place in other countries as well.

It is only the beginning.  There is much work to be done.  I will find a way to be part of that work.  (My daughter had commitments on Saturday that I could not back out of and no way for her to attend them if I was not there.) But this is not, and can not be, a one off event.  Our church is all ready looking at ways to organize not just our church but with other churches in our county.  The work will not be easy.  But we will be heard and we will not stay silent.

Trumped

Like many in this country, I am still mentally reeling after this election.  I speak cautiously in my work environment, unsure who may be quietly celebrating the win of their candidate.  Inside, I feel like wailing and screaming.

I worry for my children.  Strong beautiful children of color, in a country whose president elect seems to respect only those who are male white and powerful. I think of my Rob, coming of age in a world that suddenly seems more bigoted and narrow than I ever thought our country could be again.  I think of KC and Lissa whose optimism and belief in a wonderful future was rocked this morning at breakfast when we talked about election results.

  I worry for myself.  I worry that rights I have been able to enjoy as a married lesbian woman will somehow be curtailed,  or lost entirely.

I worry for the work I do.  I work in an industry that provides housing to the more vulnerable members of our society.  Those who are socio-economically deprived. I have worked in this industry long enough to know that our work is always under funded and harder during Republican administrations. I have never had the misfortune of working during a trifecta of Republican control.

I worry for the women of our society.  It is hard to feel that someone who espoused what was charitably called "locker room talk" will really champion equality, will embrace breaking the glass ceiling.  Will women even be continued to choose what happens to their own bodies?

The world is never a certain place but I have always idealistically believed that justice and right could and would prevail.  Today, I am not so very sure of that.

And Again. . .

48 hours and 2 more black men murdered.  I am probably the most positive person on the planet.  "Sail your ship with positivity" has been laughingly declared by my family to be my personal motto.  But I have no positivity tonight.  I have anger. I have fear.  I have an overwhelming sense of helplessness.

The repeated unwarranted killing of people of color keeps replaying like some bizarre twisted version of that old movie Ground Hog Day.  And I don't know what to do.  I don't know what to do to keep my children safe.  I literally don't go to sleep till I know Rob is home from work.  I have turned this into my reading time and I do enjoy that. But keeping things honest?  I am worried that something would happen and i would not know till there was a knock on the door.  I don't want to miss a call, a text, a chance to try and help if the need arose.

I worry that my kids, despite my oft repeated dictates of what to do if an officer stops, will push the envelope.  They are good kids. But they are kids.  At Rob's age, despite all my comments to the contrary, he is sure he is immortal.  I was his age.  I was once immortal too.  But I am white.  And while I have faced discrimination in regards to my gender or sexual identity, I have not been targeted the way people of color are.  I don't have to worry about DWB.

In a rather shocking wake up call I recently watched a video to share to my son's wall on how to make it home alive if a POC is pulled over by the police.  One of the tips?  Keep your license and registration on the dash or the visor or the cup holder.  Reaching for a wallet can be interpreted as reaching for a weapon.  In my white privilege world,I can keep those two items where ever I choose as long as I can reach them from the drivers seat of my vehicle.  My questions to police officers when I am pulled over are answered with courtesy as long as I ask with courtesy.  (disclaimer:  I received my first moving violation in 25 years because I got wildly confused at a round about over Memorial Day weekend.)  I honestly had to ask the officer what I did wrong as I knew speed was not a factor.

Will the video save his life?  I have no idea.  All I can do is try and that feels so much like tilting at windmills these days.


I am frightened by the fact that I can't come up with an action plan.   This is so systemic and so big, I can't figure out what to do to help change to come about. I am not a stick my head in the sand kind of gal.  But Facebook meme's are woefully inadequate.  Roll calls of the killed scroll through my feeds. I worry that someday one of my kids, or one of my extended family will be on the internet with a "Say their name, don't forget" tag.    But the pictures, the stories, most woefully the same,  somehow this is not scrolling through the minds and hearts of people who do have the power.

I was brought up to respect officers of the law.  And I know many officers in the city I live and work in.  I like them. I respect them.  But I look at them and wonder what they will see if my son walking home from work at midnight.  I am tired of dash cams going silent, body cams mysteriously loosening and not filming.  I am tired of  reading the dirt that gets thrown into the fray after every shooting.  Rap sheets from years past, as if prior mistakes justify death today.

I actually don't even know how to finish this post, that's how saddened and fearful my spirit is at this moment.

The "All Lives Matter" debate

I am still amazed by how quickly the words "black lives matter" seem to make situations so charged so quickly.  Inevitably someone jumps in and says "ALL lives matter," like the phrase is saying that they don't.

Inevitably, they are white people who say this.  Inevitably, things get hot.  I am white, but I am outraged by the way white privilege is so entrenched that people are flat out unable and unwilling to see what we are trying to say.

We are not saying that other lives don't matter. We are saying that the circumstances and culture of our society  does not value black lives.  That our strong black men are at risk.  That our young black children playing in parks are not safe.  That our black daughters and sisters are dying when they are stopped for traffic violations.  Is that likely to happen to me?  A middle aged white woman?  Nope.  Because I have white privilege.  Whether I want it. Whether I acknowledge its existence.  It is there.  And I reap the benefits in my day to day life.

I wait up when my son is at work.  Sometimes he walks the quarter mile from the restaurant where he is employed.  It is late when the oyster bar closes.  He is a strong handsome black man walking through town in the dark, after midnight.  You bet I wait up.

I made sure every water pistol or air soft gun in our house is fluorescent yellow green or orange. In no way can they even remotely look real or I throw them out.  Would I do that if my kids were white like me?  I don't know for sure, but I doubt it.

I worry that my teen will do something silly with his friends--some of whom are white--and that they will run off and leave him in a situation where he is more at risk than they are. Teens sometimes do stupid things. I was a teen and I did too.  But I didn't die because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

2015 was filled with so many profound examples of how racism and white privilege are very alive and well in our country.  It is my hope and prayer that 2016 brings opportunities for change.  I hope it begins with my white friends accepting white privilege and using it for change.  Instead of railing that it doesn't exist, lets use our voices. Let us speak out with our black friends, neighbors and family and work together for safety, for equality, and for the sanctity of life.

Black Lives Matter

I feel lucky when I know people who can say with far more eloquence than I  why the phrase "all lives matter" bothers me so much.  Yes. All lives matter. But we are talking about the lives that are minimized, jeopardized and flat out ended daily in ways that "all other" lives are not.  It is a worry for me as a mom of kids of color.  I send my strong handsome young teen off to the Big City for college with a smile on my face and worry in my heart.  I watch my phone for the text that he is ready for me to pick up at the train.  I worry that the natural "immortal" feeling that teens have (and yes, I remember feeling that way too) could translate into a situation far more dangerous to him than any of mine were to me.

I worry that I have not prepared him adequately enough for being black in a world that does not see him the same way it sees me.  I know that to some extent my presence over the years has lent him an inadvertent corner of the white privilege blanket.  He isn't likely to be accused of shoplifting if he is standing with his white mom.  The same is not necessarily true if he is hanging out with skater pals in the big city.  This is not to say we have not had some issues; there have been. But by and large, the world has been pretty kind to him.

I am lucky that I have friends of color because my white friends don't see what I worry about.  They think "black lives matter" is obvious and that "all lives matter" is more reverential to life and speaks to inclusiveness. My efforts to explain are dismissed. "But YOUR son is so friendly and polite; nothing would happen  to Rob"  I hope with every facet of my being they are right. Statistics say other things though.

But a 12 year old playing in a park is not exactly a huge threat. Yet he was shot and killed without a word.  My Rob is kind and smart and handsome. He also works out and hangs out with kids who skateboard and may look "sketchy" to a certain segment of the population.  They will not see his smile. They will see his strength, his blackness, an implication of a threat that does not exist.If a 12 year old at play can be gunned down, what about strong 19 year olds?

Family members who love my kids have told me my worries are meaningless. That because I brought my kids up "right" I don't have to worry.  They seriously think all the other instances are a result of bad parenting?  Rendered speechless, I grew silent about the subject on line. And I grew angry at myself because if I as my kids parent can be rendered voiceless and powerless, how must so many other parents feel.  Parents who have lost children and who have found their children vilified in the media, their home lives and values questioned.

So, yes people. BLACK lives matter.  And please. Go read Kevin Hoffman at www.mymindonpaper.wordpress.com  Because he says it all with much great clarity than I do.

Yup, that white majority thing again

A couple weekends ago we were camping in the North East.  We love to camp and this was a great little mini vacation, despite deluges of rain periodically. The kids and I are used to such things--my wife not so much, but I digress.

I had taken the younger kids on a day trip and we left the park about 5 p.m. due to storms rolling in.  I headed back the 90 minute drive toward our campground location, but we needed to stop for supper.  The kids are well trained to try and avoid chains as a general rule when we travel. We like to try out local places and they chose a small pizza place in the center of a small NH town.  We went in and were greeted. Placed our order and sat down in a booth to relax and wait.

About 20 minutes later while we were eating, a van parked outside.  Rob started grinning.  I asked him what was so funny.  He said 5 black people were getting out of the van to come inside and we would now be increasing the diversity of the entire restaurant population because it would now be almost 50/50

He was comfortable with it, but it brought me up short.  It made me remember that my kids live, work and socialize every day in situations where they are not the majority.  My city is diverse and the black community and the latino communities are very visible and present. But they are not the majority.

My kids  obviously notice.  And as part of the white majority, I obviously hadn't.  I consider that in general, I am pretty racially aware. I don't believe in "color blind."  I don't believe in not talking about racial issues.  I make sure we are active in the communities which are my children's heritage.  I have chosen participation in specific sports teams and clubs based on the racial diversity that my kids will find there.

But clearly, this is all still a work in progress--as is the work our country needs to do on racial equality.

The "weird" picture!

This summer when we went to D's baby shower, we had were able to snap a family picture.  I love this and it is actually my screen saver at the moment on my home computer. Apparently one of the times that KC and Lissa were in the room where I keep our computer they had the following conversation overheard by my wife:

Lissa:  "KC, that is just the weirdest picture."
KC      "I know, right?"
LIssa:  "Everyone but Ooma is black in that picture--even YOU look black, KC!"
KC       cracks up laughing at this point

Ironically, there are a lot of things about this picture that strike me as a parent, other than color differences.  The fact that Lissa looks so much like R who is standing next to her.  R is J's last child and she is raising her and doing a great job.  I am struck by how much Fi looks like her birth Mom.  I remember the relief I felt once I got J comfortable and she wasn't crying any more and remember thinking that this kind of healing may be pretty rare in adoption circles.   For me the snapshot was symbolic of so many years of working on that healing.

I guess I was startled to hear Lissa tell KC that "even he" looked black. I have black friends in whose families the degree of darkness of skin tone is always a topic of discussion.  Kind of like the whole "good hair" thing.  We obviously are not like that, but I guess there is work yet to do.

I did have close friends imply that I must have felt awkward in this picture.  Um, nope. Do I look awkward?  While I'll give you that photos are not my strong point, what jumps at me here is that we are happy. Squished in together happy. And frankly, I think when you adopt transracially, as a parent you need to be willing to step into situations where your kids are the majority and you are not.  There are so many times when it is the reverse. And if it is your family--the family you wanted with every fiber of your being, it isn't a hard thing to do.  At least for me, it wasn't.  And I'll give you that i am a very gregarious, pretty optimistic person. But it still wasn't hard. :-)

First Family Friends

A couple of days ago I got a friend request on Facebo*k.  It was from my son and daughter's first mom.  We met her a few months ago at a baby shower.  At that time she did not have a FB account.  I was glad that she was brave enough to reach out.  I know that this is a hard journey for her--for all of us--to walk.  I friended her back right away.  I firmly believe in supporting first family contact as long as it is safe.  There is no danger here, only healing for all that needs to happen.  Without contact, healing can't really happen.

Then I realized that she had not friend requested Rob.  And might want to. Or Rob might see that we were friends and wonder why I hadn't mentioned this to him. And he might want to friend her but would worry how I felt.  And I found myself going to tell him about this  and stopping about half a dozen times.

I was afraid that he might feel angry. Or betrayed.  Or any number of things.  Eventually today I employed the same tactic my kids often do and I told him while we were driving in the car somewhere together.  And as my kids often find--what we worry about is often diminished by the telling and sharing.  He did not feel any of the things I feared he might.  He was fine with it.

But it was interesting to me as I know that many adoptees feel this way when they are searching and have to share that with their adoptive families.  How strikingly odd that I was the one feeling anxious in our family dynamic!

More ranting about white privilege

I rarely discuss anything of substance on Facebook.  It really has not been my experience that this is a forum for anything other than sort of brief connections.  Sharing a favorite photo--yup, share a micro re-cap of a book or experience--yup.  Air out that one is a liberal who is heavily invested in a variety of social action issues?  Um, not so much!

But this week my brother in law posted something awful about the situation in Ferguson MO.  I rarely respond to his posts as he is so narrow minded  conservative that we see eye to eye on nothing except our mutual love of family.

I will be quiet about many things, But I can't be quiet when someone I love says that this is all blown out of proportion and that the person who was shot was a bad person, ergo they should die.  I wrote that my children have been followed in stores when they were separated from me. I wrote about a memorable incident when Rob was about 9 and Chet was about 19 when they were accused to stealing from a gift shop.  They left the store because I was holding the items they had wanted to buy.  Instead of cashing me out, she had run after them screaming that they needed to "pay for their things." It was my first racism in the open type of experience.  Up here in the Northeast I find people tend to be less open about it. It exists, it is just usually less blatent.

BIL responded that he was sorry that happened but that didn't mean my kids were going to be targeted as adults and killed.  No. It doesn't. but it is a symptom of a pattern of injustice and inequality.  The white kids who left the gift shop were not run after and hollered at.  Only the 2 kids of color. 

The thing is, if one has not experienced it, I guess it is easy to dismiss. To see it as an isolated instance, not a symptom of something that is wrong. Something we need to fix,because I very much believe that this is fixable. But we need to understand that cute little black boys who love to skateboard grow up into handsome black men. Who still like to skateboard incidently, but are now suddenly kicked out of the area you let them skate at when they were little and cute.   The area in question is not posted for no skateboarding. The kids were not making noise or destroying anything.  I truly believe it was that suddenly, they were not "little" and there is a cultural perception of threat when kids of color become young men. 

We need to understand that hoodies don't mean thugs. And just as my BIL would want me to believe that all drummers in heavy metal bands are not druggie losers (which he most definately is not) we need to see people not stereotypes.  When we do that, more mamas may worry less about their sons coming home at night.

My son, My young adult

I think it is hard for every parent to step back and let their teens and young adults make their own choices.  However, for me there is an added layer of concern.  My son is a strong handsome black man.  He loves to skateboard and wear Bob Marley T's.  He loves smooth jazz and hiking in the woods. He is helpful, especially to seniors and so easy going that young children and animals are nearly always drawn to him.


But that is not what it is likely to be seen if he is stopped by law enforcement, or if a stranger saw him walk down the street.  I have always thought about his safety, but somehow I was less aware of the fact that he is now  seen as a man and not a boy.  Probably it is that "mom" thing.  Our kids are always our kids.  The treasured memories I have of him as a young boy influence how I see him.

Yet on a recent camping trip to NH, this  was brought home to me.  Others from our city were also camping in the same place.  Most of those folks were related and were part of a family reunion. Apparently one of the reunion  families said that they knew there was another family from our city camping there. (meaning us of course.)  "I think they are in that tent in the back" she was told.  The woman answered-- "Oh do you mean the white lady and the black man and those two little kids?"

I know this because later the parties involved saw me en route to the washroom and decided to share this with me.  That was the first time that I thought of people seeing Rob as a man, not my son.  I am in a relatively progressive area of the country but "relatively" is the key word.  There are many studies done about how young black men are perceived as threatening.  There have been incidents in our community in the past, there have been horrific things that have happened in a myriad of locations around the country.  Ferguson is sadly not as isolated an incident as we would like to believe.

We speak often, he and I about the things he must do to stay safe.  But tomorrow he goes off to college and for the first time is making most of his decisions on his own.  I pray for a fulfilling and safe college experience for him in the big city.

First World Guilt

Saturday my wife and I had a date.  She had informed me that she thought it would be fun for us to go to the mall and get pedicures together.  Adult time. No kids.  Just a chance to be together and relax.  I gulped.  The place at the mall? The one where all the chairs are by a big plate glass window where people gawk at you as they stroll by?  THAT place?  She chuckled.  Yep.

Well I am certainly not going to hurt my wife by refusing a date, so I womaned up and agreed.  But, oh, it was such a weird experience.  Not the gawking actually.  I found I didn't notice all that as much.  I found I am not much for massage chairs.  I think they  felt sort of creepy. I rediscovered the fact that I actually dislike sitting still for longer than about 15 minutes. I discovered I did love the hot rocks that got rubbed up and down your calf and over the arch of your foot.  My feet were warm, people warm I tell you!

But what I did not like and could not get past, was the creepy feeling with someone crouched on a stool below me, doing all this stuff to my feet.  All the employees of the salon are asian, and it just felt exploitative for all these caucasian women (all right I will give you one black and one latina woman came in but the vast majority were white) to be pampered and have all this attention to our feet  in this way. There was something that was both so intimate and so subservient in the relationship.

I will give you that my feet look amazing. Well as amazing as my feet could possibly look. Years of dance, years of hiking, they are sort of misshapen but hey, the polish is really super!  But despite how I love the way they look, despite loving the fact that my feet were warm for a few hours, I really don't want to go back. I want my relationships to be on more equal footing, if you can pardon the pun.

Oscar thoughts

I did not watch the Oscars, and I do not tweet.  So it took a bit of time for me to hear about the flap at this years event.  To think that anyone would tweet anything so rude and crude about a 9 year old child staggers me.  I was still heated about it when my wife  got home from work last night.  Literally, ranting about it, which if you knew me in real life, you would know is pretty unusual.  I just don't go off very often.

But to me, it was a hugely race based situation.  I can not picture that same comment being made if a 9 year old white actress was being tweeted about.  As a parent, I hurt for that beautiful young girl. Today, ranting somewhat over, I think I am a teeny bit glad that it happened.

Not for the hurt that those words caused Ms. Wallis and her family.  But because in the name of humor, someone sure showed America that racism is alive and well. This is important to us as parents of children of  color.  I have black friends who have said that one of the hard things nowadays is that many times racism is sneaky.  The putdowns are less obvious, things are inferred as opposed to out-right said.

With a two term black president at the helm of our country, many white friends have told me that racism is dead in America. That we are truly a color blind society. Thanks Onion,  for reminding all of us of the work yet to be done.

Sunday Morning Successes!

This morning's experience at church was so great!  It was an intergenerational Sunday morning, meaning the kids stayed in service for the whole time, not breaking out mid way to attend classes.  The focus of the morning was the story of Stone Soup, of all of us giving just a little and something great coming out of it. The story was acted out in an exuberant fashion but the kids as well as adults were also part of the rest of the service.  One of my favorite moments was watching my Rob help a younger boy light our flaming chalice.  Rob has been a "special buddy" to this  young man since his family began coming to church this fall.  I taught the class that this lad is in and he is, um a handful.  I am sure there are myriad issues there but am also sure I am not asking. When you have a kid that is different, you get asked enough.  Parents and kids need a break from that.  However the class also needs to be able to function and what the program director tried doing and which is working wonderfully, is having Rob be a special helper for this little guy.  There is less classroom disruption as a result and Rob's quiet demeanor is a great match.  Also, let's face it.  Rob not only has a tender side that draws young kids to him.  He also has day to day experience from Chet, understanding that we all process the world we live in differently.

After service, we all adjourned to Fellowship Hall where in lieu of the typical coffee and finger desserts, we had our own "stone soup." Everyone had brought a one cup portion of soup ingredients.  Mine was a cup of finely chopped carrots, parsnips and a little frozen corn thrown in as well.  The melange that was created was heavenly.  There was barley, mushrooms, spinach or chard, every veggie you could think of in this pot!  And it was well seasoned and really delish.  With it was fresh bread, a nice salad and lemonade.  A dessert table rounded out the meal.

The hall was packed and my one regret was that I could not really effectively circulate and be as welcoming to newer folks as I would like.  However I had welcomed in a couple of new families at the start of the morning and that will have to do. When there is hot soup being carried around in close quarters, I am hesitant to do much traipsing about.  I suspect this stems from a hot bowl of soup that was dumped accidently down my shoe when I was a kid in school, but I digress . . .

The other thing I am excited about is that gradually but very noticably, our congregation is becoming more colorful.  One of the new families today was a young black  mom with three little kids, her daughter a bit younger than my Lissa.  They had almost the same 'church hair' going on and looked like an easy friendship was developing. Maria and I hit it off well and I hope she returns.  Unitarian Universalism has had a challenge reaching out beyond the realm of the white educated professional, but more and more there is an awareness that we need to be relevent to all. We have I think always been welcoming but there is a difference between welcoming and relevent.

 This is of course of paramount importance to me, as a parent of children of color.  When families of color begin coming, we sort of find each other quickly--it is kind of funny really.  But I love meeting new folks always, and my kids are good ambassadors for the top notch religious ed program that our church provides.  Especially having kids in all aspects of the program at the same time, I can speak to almost any aspect of R.E. with some level of authority.

Holiday Decorating

The holiday elves have been busy at our home and it glistens in a most festive way! I'll try to post pics of various decorations and displays in the next few days so that one post doesn't get billions of pics and get hard to load.   This is one of our new holiday decorations. She is an angel that I got from A*on and she is really lovely.  The reason she does not top our tree is because her fiber optics are battery operated with the button concealed in a most un-angelic place and this would be hard to turn on and off at the top of a 7 foot tree! LOL

Ever since adopting black children I have been really conscious of making sure that my decorations reflect ethnic diversity. We have a really nice collection of black Santas, some AA angels (including the one above which KC has named Alarissa) etc.  Well, last year when Lissa was, in her words, just a baby, she beheaded my tall, talking AA Santa.  Decimated the poor guy.  This year while looking through the A*on catalog the kids spied a new talking Santa and wanted it.  But he is your classic white bread Santa.  I said that I really wanted to replace our dearly departed Santa with another black Santa.  Rob asked me why I was prejudiced against white Santas.  ROFL  Which of course I am not, but I am glad that clearly he is comfortable in his skin so to speak, and comfortable with the way race is addressed in our house that he could joke in that manner.  And  yes, we ordered White Bread Santa!