3.23.2012

Emmitt Till revisited-The Trayvon Martin case



My 9 year old son has one of the most infectious smiles that you’ve ever seen. My husband always jokes and says that when he walks into a room everyone sees sunshine and glitter. He is the bright spot on a gloomy day that makes you appreciate everything that life has to offer. Looking at him so innocent and sincere, it is hard to imagine someone viewing him as a threat to their life. But unfortunately, for my brown skinned baby, that is the reality that I face.

Life lessons are learned best when they are drastic and dramatic. The loss of a loved one to Cancer, Murder, or Vehicular Homicide is far more intense than losing a loved one to old age. Unfortunately, for our fast paced society, we often don’t address such dramatic tragedies until it’s far too late. Once an issue hits home we are all up in arms over the devastation that we feel. We want everyone to know about our pain and suffering; and anger from those who don’t empathize with us takes over our psyche. Many of us who carry that anger around do not vote, do not watch the news, and do not share messages of progressive hope and change. Yet we holler and scream when we hurt, and we expect everyone to listen. It’s like the little boy who cried wolf….always claiming that something is about to happen, when in reality he is simply yanking our chain. This seems to be the pattern for voting and community activism these days. Someone is always “talking” about what they are going to do, yet MIA come election time.

The Trayvon Martin case has rocked me to the core. It is hard for me as a mother of two boys to imagine someone killing my babies in cold blood. Every human being has a story, and all too often we judge people based on their outer core. None of us knew Trayvon personally, but now that he is a household name I can only imagine the possibilities of who he was. I can only imagine the types of things that made him smile, or his favorite meal made by his mother. I can imagine his favorite memories of growing up playing sports. I can visually see a smile come across his face when playing a game of hide and seek with his little brother. And then I imagine a more grown up Trayvon; one who works at the local bank, or the high school football coach who mentors kids after school. I can only imagine all the things he COULD have been, and then feel a tear stream down my face when I realize that none of these possibilities will ever be. Even more disheartening is the idea that this MURDER could have been racially motivated. George Zimmerman didn’t look at the stranger he saw walking down the street and see him as a living, breathing human being with dreams, hopes, and emotions. He saw him as a threat and a walking target. He glanced at the outer surface of Trayvon and made a judgment on who he was on the inside. He was fixated on what he believed to be true simply because of how someone looked.

Interestingly enough, pop culture seems to be the driving force with today’s generation. While so-called ‘Urban Gear’ used to be considered “a Black thing”, it is now simply “a cool thing”. I never thought I would see the day when a white suburban teen would have millions of pictures all over the internet with his jeans sagging and a hoodie draped over his head, but I’ll be damned if Justin Bieber isn’t establishing himself as the poster child for Roc-a-Wear. Funny though, I don’t think anyone would ever accost the Biebs for being in the “wrong neighborhood”, or wrongly assume he was “up to no good, on drugs or something” when all he wanted was a pack of Skittles. I doubt that would happen, because after all the Biebs is not a ‘Coon’. We have to learn to see things objectively, and put ourselves in other people’s shoes. I am very well aware of the cultural bias of the world we live in, so I make it known to my boys all the time. They are probably tired of me preaching about the things they “might” encounter, but it is a reality that we must face. As a mother, I have to make sure that my boys are prepared. They have a closet full of hoodies from Old Navy that they rock while walking down the street to hang with their friends. We live in a small suburban neighborhood where everyone knows each other, but what will become of them when they venture out into unknown territory? Do I tell my boys to stop dressing a certain way simply because their skin is a tad bit darker than their friends who are wearing the same exact clothes? Do I make them go out in a 3 piece suit when they go ride their bikes or walk to the store? Exactly what do you suggest I do as a mother to two brown boys? I know one thing that I will NOT do-subject my boys to the effects of their mother not voting for things that she believes in. Florida’s Stand Your Ground Law needs to be looked over with a fine toothed comb. We also need to look at our local and state laws with a fine toothed comb before another Trayvon Martin case hits the news. We need to educate one another and work on the power of solidarity and empathy in our local communities. And we need not wait until another youth is wrongly accused of being “up to no good” and another person continues to walk around with the absence of an empathetic heart. A mother has lost her child, and a person has to live with the haunting screams that he heard when he killed someone…Neither person should live with that, and none of us should turn a blind eye.

RIP Trayvon.


3.12.2012

The Kony 2012 Show

My son came home all up in arms last week over the KONY 2012 issue. He was quite surprised that his father and I were NOT surprised over these issues.

I was very fortunate to have a very intelligent African Politics professor back in the 90's who opened up my eyes to ALL of the pertinent social ills in Africa. I am very well aware that many are not so well informed. For many years I've read about the many different social issues that are prevalent all over Africa, such as widespread disease, lack of healthcare, homelessness, unemployment, and increased drug use. It can even be argued that these issues cause or contribute to the 'Invisible Children' syndrome. When faced with a lack of options and an unstable building ground for success, people's lives tend to take a turn for the worse. As Americans, we have to realize that the African culture is completely different from our own. Things that may cause us to be appalled and disgruntled are sometimes back burner issues for other cultures. It is not to say that these issues should ever be ignored, however, these issues must ALWAYS be prioritized. We cannot take on the task of attempting to change children's lives when the children in question have no homes to return to, nor parents to provide a moral structure. The issues at hand go deeper than what we see on the surface, and should be treated as such.

We should also remind ourselves of the age-old phrase-"people in glass houses should not throw stones". While we may not have children who are fighting wars, we do have a very large number of misguided youth for a country who is considered to be a world power. Perhaps if we took a little more time to focus on our own youth (including the task of educating them on foreign politics and history) we could make more positive strides in helping to improve social welfare abroad.

Check out this article that provides a 'Devil's Advocate' view on the Kony 2012 campaign:

http://africasacountry.com/2012/03/07/phony-2012-risible-children/


1.16.2012

A tale of two families-Celebrating Dr. King's legacy

"So THAT'S why those kids look at me funny."
"Yes honey. You are different, and sometimes people don't understand different."
It's hard to explain to a kid that there are people in this world who will not accept you because of theft color of your skin. It's even harder when that child has a heart of gold, and is as innocent as the day is long. Both of my stepson are biracial. My youngest lost his mother last year to chronic illness, and now clings to me for hope, love, and explanations of how the world works. Luckily for me I grew up in a family that embraced any and every one. At any given day you could look around our dinner table and see Africa, China, Jamaica, rich, poor, and in between. We never knew who was going to stop by, but somehow Grandma always made it work. Ironic that my life would mirror that situation today.
As I watched my son ride off on his scooter with two of his friends who are first generation American citizens, I realized just how lucky I am to be able to see the hard work of our ancestors come to fruition. 40 years ago someone would have stopped my child halfway down the street and asked him where he was going and why he was with two other kids that looked nothing like him. Although the South is still very far the rest of the country in terms of race relations, we have definitely come a very long way. Certainly much different from my grandparents' days when they literally had to fight their way into movie theaters and skating rinks. What's sad to me, however, is that many families will never now what its like to share  variety of cultures at their dinner tables. Many Americans still live very one dimensional lives and do not see the importance of showing their children the value of a conversation with someone who is NOT just like them. There are tons of children who never experience that type of cultural exchange, and its important that we show them why it is still necessary today.
This year my oldest son is competing in his first Quiz Bowl. The theme is centered around Black History, and I couldn't be more proud of him for taking an active role in learning about both sides of his history as an American. My kids wear their diverse culture as a badge of honor, and I'm extremely proud that they see it that way. As they continue to grow and search for answers in life I can only hope that I can show them the proper way to continue to make a difference in the struggle that Dr. King fought so hard to erase. Thank you Dr. King for pointing us in the right direction towards victory.

Conflicting modification on January 16, 2012:

"So THAT'S why those kids look at me funny."
"Yes honey. You are different, and sometimes people don't understand different."
It's hard to explain to a kid that there are people in this world who will not accept you because of theft color of your skin. It's even harder when that child has a heart of gold, and is as innocent as the day is long. Both of my stepson are biracial. My youngest lost his mother last year to chronic illness, and now clings to me for hope, love, and explanations of how the world works. Luckily for me I grew up in a family that embraced any and every one. At any given day you could look around our dinner table and see Africa, China, Jamaica, rich, poor, and in between. We never knew who was going to stop by, but somehow Grandma always made it work. Ironic that my life would mirror that situation today.
As I watched my son ride off on his scooter with two of his friends who are first generation American citizens, I realized just how lucky I am to be able to see the hard work of our ancestors come to fruition. 40 years ago someone would have stopped my child halfway down the street and asked him where he was going and why he was with two other kids that looked nothing like him. Although the South is still very far the rest of the country in terms of race relations, we have definitely come a very long way. Certainly much different from my grandparents' days when they literally had to fight their way into movie theaters and skating rinks. What's sad to me, however, is that many families will never now what its like to share  variety of cultures at their dinner tables. Many Americans still live very one dimensional lives and do not see the importance of showing their children the value of a conversation with someone who is NOT just like them. There are tons of children who never experience that type of cultural exchange, and its important that we show them why it is still necessary today.
This year my oldest son is competing in his first Quiz Bowl. The theme is centered around Black History, and I couldn't be more proud of him for taking an active role in learning about both sides of his history as an American. My kids wear their diverse culture as a badge of honor, and I'm extremely proud that they see it that way. As they continue to grow and search for answers in life I can only hope that I can show them the proper way to continue to make a difference in the struggle that Dr. King fought so hard to erase. Thank you Dr. King for pointing us in the right direction towards victory.


1.12.2012

How to heal...


Losing a loved one is never easy for anyone. I don't know a single person on this earth that can hold back tears when they lose someone they love. I was reminded this week of just how much death can consume you and take over your every day life. Losing something in the physical form has a way of playing on your emotions that makes you second guess everything and everyone around you. We all know that there are many different stages in the process of dealing with death-sadness, anger, denial. But throughout all of these stages, one element of emotion is missing-selfishness. We all want to know why it happened to ME...Why am I feeling this way...What am I going to do? We all go through this selfish stage as if the person's death was some sort of personal attack. When in reality it is simply part of the circle of life. Without death we could never fully appreciate birth. The sadness we feel when we lose someone tends to make us forget about all of the other life experiences and blessings that we encounter on a daily basis. We also have to remember that not all life lessons are pleasant and joyful. Death is certainly one of those life lessons.

Regardless of what you tend to believe spiritually, death certainly makes you sit down and question, appreciate, or have disdain for our spiritual powers. There is a certain feeling that hits you deep down in your soul that either brings you closer or pushes you away from the Supernatural. My personal life has been filled with positive experiences from our spiritual Father. My relationship with God has been THE motivating factor in every healing process. My Father and I have an unspoken bond that lets me know that He is saying "Its okay. It will all work out later". And I have no choice but to believe that. After all, He's never been wrong before, so why doubt him now? For those who may not have a close spiritual relationship with God, their healing process may be different. They may feel the need to go out and test the limits of life, become totally immersed in "worshiping" their lost loved one, or simply go out and find ways to improve their own lives. Whatever way you decide to address death, the most important thing to remember is to actually take the time to address it. Old wounds do not heal on their own. Like anything worth having in life, it takes work and effort to get to the finish line.

1.04.2012

The Slump...


It hits it all right? The ever so dreadful slump, rut, funk, or whatever you need to call it. But knowing it hits everyone doesn't make it feel any better when it hits. There are some days when no matter how hard you try, there is nothing that will fix your mood except a champagne brunch with your girls and a shopping spree that will make your husband's heart sink. Too bad all my Chicas live out of town and my bank account is currently laughing and snarking at me.

So today I tried something new. I got off my ass and kicked myself around a little bit. Crying over spilled milk has never gotten anyone anywhere (not to my knowledge at least), and I really don't look cute with hefty stress bags under my eyes. [What would REALLY solve this issue of mine is a big giant dose of dark chocolate, but I digress....] I decided I was going to fix my mood the old fashioned way-no mood lifters (legal OR illegal), no chocolate (*sigh*), no shopping; just good old fashioned tough love. I had to sit back and spend some time with Eve. I had to get back to putting myself first. It seems as though I managed to forget just how incredibly AWESOME I am, and that's never a good thing. All too often women end up taking care of everyone and everything, and putting ourselves and our own needs on the back burner. Its a very easy way to get stressed out, fed up, and knocked off track. And once you reach that point you end up going to a very vulnerable place where any and everything will just set you off and send you into a tizzy. I decided not to go to that place, and instead focus on productivity.

I stepped back and took a look at my 2012 so far, and thought about what I wanted the rest of my year to look like. January and February alone prove to be a big ball of excitement already, so if I'm going to tackle this entire I better get on the ball. Surrounding yourself with positive people and positive things is always a sure fire way to make sure that you stay on top of your game. I got rid of complacent people and things many many moons ago, and I have no intention of bringing them back. You can't be fabulous with dead weight, and once again hefty bags under the eyes do not do it for me. So here's to getting out of the slump, getting off my ass, and making some power moves. No champagne and chocolate today, but there's always tomorrow...Hey, a girl does need her chocolate :-)

12.30.2011

2012


I think I'm in denial. Another new year is upon us, and there is a part of me that kinda refuses to acknowledge it. It sounds so cliche, but I just cannot believe it is about to be 2012. Saying it out loud makes me realize just how many years of my life have gone by. In my mind I am still stuck in 1982, celebrating New Year's at home with my family. Yet in reality I am stumbling around in 2011 with my own family trying to make sense of what the coming year will bring.

When you are young, New Year's is just another cause for celebration. Its an excuse to overeat, drink too much, and be incredibly loud and obnoxious. But once you hit your 30's and your life is no longer the same, celebrating New Year's is much deeper than what's on the surface. Some people make outlandish resolutions that they know good and well that they will never keep, others run out and try and do everything they didn't do the year before, and yet others sit around and become extremely depressed at the people and things that have changed over the past year. I've never been one for making New Year's resolutions; no need when I'm constantly making DAILY resolutions. For me its much more practical, and its ten times easier to keep myself in check. And sitting around being depressed at the 'coulda, woulda, shoulda's' has never gotten me anywhere either.

I don't think I have ever been able to reflect on my year and see only the good that has happened. Each year of my life has been marked with joy and sadness all wrapped up into one. Each year in the midst of growth, some tragedy seems to strike, and it makes me stop and contemplate where my life is going and how far I have to go to reach my goals. This year I sat and watched as tragedy happened to those around me. There is nothing worse than watching the people you love suffer uncontrollably, and not having the power to change their circumstances. It is damn near impossible for anyone with a smidgen of emotion to not be broken up by the circumstances of those you love. But unfortunately we have no choice but to accept it. Once we accept that tragedy and suffering must coexist in this world we are one step closer to healing. For years I drove myself insane over the perils of watching others suffer. I just could not accept the fact that there was nothing I could do to help change their circumstances. After years of beating myself up I finally came to grips with the fact that every battle is not yours to fight. Some times you are merely meant to sit back and dress their wounds after battle and speak to their heart when they are weary. Some times they will not always hear your prayers, but that doesn't mean that your prayers don't have life.

This may sound crazy but for me tragedy has had to coexist in my life in order to keep the good vibes flowing. Tragedy has made me wake up and realize that I am indeed much closer to my goals than I thought. And with each tragic moment of 2011 I found a multitude of triumph. It was almost as if the events were personified and sending me messages with hidden meanings. Each time the world seemed to stop and spin a little slower while I sat back and watched each leaf on the tree fall at its own speed. I found a new epiphany with each second on the clock, and had trouble catching up and absorbing all the new knowledge that was imparted from that tree. I saw revelations of things my grandmother spoke of years before, and finally made sense of the role players in my life. I also realized that there is so much more to the mystery of life than I ever thought was there. I would have to live another 70 years just to understand it all. But for now, just knowing that there is comfort and understanding that follows my tears is enough for me to enjoy the dance of life.

11.23.2011

A Thanks for unpredictability



I have always been a creature of habit. Every single morning of every day of my adult life goes the exact same way, and if by chance my morning routine is thrown off for some reason, the world as I know it comes to a screeching halt. Same goes for all of my holidays, all of my birthdays, and all of my shopping trips. Every single Christmas (which is ALWAYS spent at Grandma’s house), I play the SAME Christmas CD at the same time; right after we’ve all opened our gifts and sleep has begun to take over. If by chance one day my grandfather decided to move that CD I think I would be spending Christmas in the emergency room because my head would spontaneously combust from the shock of interrupting my routine.

So of course, when my husband came home from work one day and told me that not only would we be getting custody of his 10 year old, but that he would be arriving in exactly one week, I automatically flipped my lid. No time to prepare, no time to decorate a room for him, no time to develop a new routine. And three years later when I learned that we would be getting custody of his 8 year old, I flipped out once again. No sooner than I get Demon #1 all settled in and set on his routine does Demon #2 arrive on my doorstep. How in the world would I manage this, and how long would it take to get him used to a new routine when he was accustomed to such a completely different lifestyle? Life as I knew it was turned completely upside down.

My husband, on the other hand, lives for spontaneity. He could care less about what time he woke up, what he had for breakfast, and what type of clothes he was going to wear. I guess after spending your entire life in a military setting, change and disorder is sometimes a welcome state of mind. Luckily for me, my kids and I have the most incredible bond that I’ve ever seen between a stepparent and their child. It’s almost as though we’ve been together our entire lives. It is because of this that I’m reminded that some things are just destined to happen whether we’re aware of the circumstance or not. You see, I can’t help but know in my heart that God made those kids for me. He knew that we would be a part of each other’s lives in some capacity at some point in time. And according to my Mother-in-law, she always knew too.

These days my routine no longer belongs to me. I wake up when I don’t want to, and not always by a traditional alarm clock-most often it’s by the sound of feet stomping up and down the stairs or cabinets slamming as cereal is being poured and jokes are being told. “Quiet time” is mocked by uncontrollable giggles and remnants of candy and treats that were snuck into the house. The laundry that I have diligently fluffed and folded is usually disheveled and in complete disarray, and my precious Range Rover is ALWAYS dirty on the inside. But alas I’ve come to realize that there are more important things in life than routine and order. And sometimes sacrificing a few minutes of comfort is worth seeing the smile on your child’s face. Sometimes knowing that you’ve just given your child a memory and a feeling of comfort erases all of the discomfort of not being able to enjoy your coffee in peace.

My boys have had to endure quite a bit of transition in their lives. And seeing how they deal with that, and how their loves have changed really makes me take a good look at my own life and reevaluate everything I’ve ever felt and everything I do. Seeing their approach to life just really puts everything into perspective. I learned a very big lesson four years ago-that life is not always how YOU plan it out. Sometimes life is planned for you, but that’s not always a bad thing. Sometimes in the midst of the chaos and confusion comes a new appreciation for your ever-changing environment. Looks like unpredictability is my new best friend.