A hairy Matter

So this is my KC.  He is 14, well, nearly 15 now.  A sweeter, kinder and more hardworking kid you would be hard pressed to find. Yes, I am his mom, but it is truly not blind parental love here.  He has been working at a local grocery store since the fall.  The store is the only employer in the area who will employ 14 year olds.  Everything else is pretty much 16 or older, or only seasonal.  At the store, he has consistantly worked 9 to 10 hours weekly. 

See the hair?   KC loves his hair.  It is part of who he is.  It is also against the dress code of the store.  The handbook states that males can not have dyed hair.  It is hard to see in the picture but KC's hair is tipped blond.  Because of  his "non traditional" hair color he has to wear a store ball cap when he works.  He despises the ball cap.

Last week he decided to have the blond trimmed out of his hair.  I was happy as it was  kind of damaged from the bleaching and it is healthier for the hair to trim it out.  But his impetus was so that he did not have to wear the ball cap when at work. Off he went to work, sans cap.

When I picked him up after his shift I could tell something was wrong.  He said that his manager told him his hair was "too wild" and he still had to wear the ball cap.  Let's be clear, there is no definition of "wild" or "tame" hair in the employee handbook.   Let us also be clear that although I have seen a number of black employees in the store, they are typically  female cashiers, not 14 year old male baggers.

I have worked since I was 14 too.  I know companies have the right to decide how their brand is represented by their employees. My employer  only allows female employees to have one ear piercing.  I also believe that there is a significant level of inherant racial bias in the matter in question.  However at present, the law appears to side with the employer.  Witness this recent court ruling regarding dread locks.  KC's hair is tall but was clean and neatly picked and shaped. 

We talked all the way home about the situation.  I was clear that I do believe it is unfair and that it may have inherant racial bias in the policy>  He is justifiably hurt and angry, but also sees that in other aspects the company has been good to him and to other co-workers.(he gets hours consistantly, he is in other aspects treated politely, a co-worker friend who had an incident of sexual harrassment had it immediately and appropriately handled.)  We spoke of how he basically had two options, he could keep his hair style and continue to wear the ball cap, or he could look on line for some more traditional styles that he might like and show them to a supervisor for approval before he committed to a change.  He is deciding what course of action he wants to take.  He gave me a big hug when we got home and said "I just hope my kids don't have to go through this too someday."  Me too, son

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.

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.

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.

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.

BLM

Last night on the internet I stumbled upon something new to me.  A live streaming of a BLM vigil in the Big City nearest to our home.  I watched for a bit to try and hear the speaker.  The sound quality was beyond bad and I could not hear almost anything she was saying. I was just about to click off in frustration when I noticed that comments also get posted in real time with the live streaming.


I watched in legit horror at the hatred that spewed from those comments, up the screen of my monitor.  Comments that the speaker had time to do this because she was on welfare. Comments that all lives matter.Derogatory comments about the charge to blacks to try to economically impact whites by going to black owned businesses. Comments that people should just do what police say and nothing will go wrong.  (news flash, you need to add if you are white to that last one folks--just ask the family of Phil Castile.) And there was more.  Much more. So much hatred I can not dignify it with reiterating it here. They flew so fast I could not even respond to a specific post, because it was gone in a flash, replaced by another equally as appalling.


How is it possible to hate so much?  How is it possible not to see people as people.   How can there be any hope for justice when so many people buy in to stereotypes and racist rhetoric.  These injustices and killings can not be stopped if whites are going to look the other way.  We have a disproportionate amount of power.  We need to, and we must, be agents for change and justice.  We need to listen to our black friends, neighbors, sisters and brothers, and support their efforts at change. Our children, our country, and our future need this.

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.

Recital Weekend

Recital weekend is over and we have survived!  Not only survived but the kids had a blast and did really well with their numbers. These are their 2 favorite costumes--KC's is from his jazz number and Lissa's is from her jazz number.  They also had ballet, hip hop and KC had tap and a final production number that was only open to older students.  I am proud of how well they did but most happy that they enjoyed it.  Lissa does not enjoy it as much as KC but I think that she still had a lot of fun.  If nothing else she adores wearing makeup. This picture is mostly sans make up but I love it.  She looks so relaxed in the shot.  Typically she does not love having her picture taken but this one is a real keeper.  Any dance picture you get of KC is a keeper- the boy lives to dance. He is all ready counting the days till dance camp. Presently he sees himself someday owning his own dance/art studio combo.

This is also the weekend that their long time best friends moved from next door to us to their new home across town. We will still get together but it won't be the daily back and forth between the houses that has dominated most of the littles lives.  I think KC was about 4 when B and his family moved in and Lissa about 2.  The thought of losing the close proximity of their best friends have deeply saddened KC and Lissa.

Friday night when he was lying in bed KC told me he wondered who would move in.  I said I hoped it was someone with kids as maybe there would be new friends to make even though we would still be friends with B and his family.  He looked at me with concern and said "I don't know about that."  I was baffled and asked why.  He said that the family who lived there before B was "mean" and they wouldn't play with them because they were black.

Whoa!  Say whaaaaat?  Cue the clueless parent face as first off I can't honestly remember who lived there before B and his family.  Secondly, as my 11 year old tells me that this kid always  swore at Rob I am wondering why I never heard about this.  I am pretty darn sure I would remember that.  KC said he didn't tell me because  Rob told him not to.

Hmmmmm.  I have read about kids who are adopted transracially who are not comfortable telling their parents about issues of racism.  I have talked about that with my kids and made it (at least in my little brain) 100 per cent clear that I have their back. That I want to know if something is wrong, if they are treated unfairly.  I have visibly gone to the mat on racial issues that I have seen--most noticably ones that involved the kids and I in stores or gift shops.  I have never ever been the parent who didn't want to talk about race.

Granted, this would have been years ago, as KC is 11 now. So Rob would have been about KC's present age when this happened. I think he is much more open in his relationship with me now because I have worked every single day of our lives on it.  But for Rob 11 was a hard time. I do remember that.  I wish I had known about this.  I might have somehow made it a little easier for him. Discrimination is not ever easy, but I always want my kids to know that I am there with them in the fight.  Here's to working for open honest dialogues. . . and good neighbors.

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.

Disabled People and racial slurs

I have a really bad headache and I know that sometimes makes me more emotionally sensitive. Still, I think even sans migraine, I would be feeling a little bruised today.  I walked into work today to hear my boss and my co-workers talking about "those people".  The people who get SSI and could-should be working.  The people who of course have nothing wrong with them.  Why doesn't the government re-evaluate, they said to each other.

I stood there, stunned.  I had not even had time for a sip of coffee.  They do  re-evaluate I said.  Every 5 years.  And it is not automatic and easy to get SSI. Or to pass the re-evaluation for that matter.  And most people need it. The vast majority of them.  People don't always show their disabilities.  Just like my Chet does not seem disabled if you saw him on the street.  Talk to him for more than 10 minutes, and you know.  For a quick hello or checking out at a store, probably not.

Later today one of my co-workers bemoaned the fact that a local team has forfeited the rest of its football season due to allegations of racial bullying.  The fact that the seniors won't play on Thanksgiving day was of supreme importance.  Um, what about the "n word" written on the players house????  I am sorry for the teens who were not involved. But racism is evil and needs to stop. In my opinion this did not happen in a vacuum. Someone knew how this young man was being treated.  Maybe if people had stepped up and spoken out sooner, they would be playing ball on Thanksgiving Day.

To say I feel a bit disconnected from my work team at the moment is a bit of an understatment. I think the big picture is that we need to take care of each other. And not always assume the worst about people.  The vast majority of people are not scammers--that is why it is newsworthy when someone is caught.  Sigh.  Time for Advil!

Thorn's most excellent initial post on race and white privilege reminded me that this is something that i think about often and perhaps don't write about . I am not sure if that is intentional on my part or not. Part of me is afraid I will not articulate the depth of my feelings in a way that makes sense. However, it is important. It is a part of our lives.

Before Robbie was 9, I had my first negative experience surrounding shopping. We were on vacation and were hiking at a wildlife sanctuary. Not the usual sanctuary near our home, but one in the western part of our state, with some wonderful things to see and explore. We had a lovely hike. KC was still a baby at the time, maybe a year and change if that. Post hike we stopped in the little gift shop to look for momentos of our visit. I remember that Rob picked out a book on hawks and raptors. He is an avid birder and the book was instantly the thing he wanted most. My Chet had a harder time deciding and I will give you that his disability makes him loud on occasion. I also should state for the record that the gift shop was watched by the same person who took care of incoming hikers, so it is possible she felt overwhelmed. (possible but not in my opinion really likely--even after all these years, this incident still bugs me)

Anyway, KC was tired and needed his diaper changed. Chet had finally made his decision on his purchase. I gave Kirsty the purcahses and she paid and left. It took a few minutes after that to round up the other two boys (you know how kids always see something intriguing) and take them and KC out of the building.. I was a bit ahead of Rob and Chet because I had the soggy baby. Luckily not too far ahead as I heard the woman at the gift shop say "Isn't there something you want to pay for?" in a very loud and carrying voice. When I turned, she was staring at my two boys. Rob was standing there with that "deer in the headlights" look that he gets when he is scared. Chet I could tell was going to launch into some kind of dissertation because he was ticked. But he never got a chance to open his mouth because I was waaaaay more ticked than he was.

My kids didn't even have on clothes with pockets. They had nothing in their hands. Exactly what was she referring to, I asked. The clerk sort of stammered around that she had seen them looking at things earlier. I said we had and had in fact paid for them all ready and that my wife had taken care of the purchase. The clerk tried to slide out of the sticky situation at this point by saying she didn't know, hadn't seen that we were together. While I agree that is possible, perhaps even likely, that still doesn't mean you address people in the manner she did. "did you find anything you wish to purchase? Could I help you with something? " All good choices of language that I pointed out to her. Hey I worked retail for years, I know a comment such as she made really means "I think you took something; fess up now." Clerk then told me she was a volunteer, as though you can be racist and/or insensitive if you aren't being paid. Needless to say, it was a conversation that just wasn't destined to go well. I decided that I had made my point to the clerk, my kids had seen my ire, it was time to go.

When we got home from vacation I wrote to the head of the state wildlife agency and outlined the experience and why I truly believed that the actions were discriminatory and racist. The fact that two of my children have attended ecology camps through this organization, and that at our local sanctuary we routinely attend homeschooling events, made it all feel even worse.

The plus side was that I very promptly got a letter back. Much of it I felt was real CYA on the agency's part. The clerk was a volunteer, supposedly newly hired. Supposedly overwhelmed by the vast number of people that day. (trust me in the hiking world there are just not vast numbers!) Despite all that, I know the powers there knew something was wrong, because they had now mandated racial sensitivity training for all their volunteers and this volunteer would not work in this capacity again until she had completed training.

I don't feel like we necessarily changed anyone's perceptions that day. But I do know my boys saw that as a parent I am aware, that I will not tolerate injustice and that my racism radar is always on. I am not arrogant enough to believe that I will always sense every situation, I have years of white privilege -- but I really really try to watch and be aware.