An update

Last Sunday, I posted a story about how I sometimes I make up stories to amuse myself. I shared one about a house around the corner from us. Well, I’ve got an update for you. There’s now a For Sale sign on the lawn, so I guess Loverman’s hope that wifey has returned is for naught and unfortunately, my prediction that brotherman got on her last nerve is true and she gathered up her babies and flew the coop. Oh well…. sometimes I get very little pleasure in being right.

Out of Control

I know I’m not the only one totally sickened by the nonstop Black Friday, After Thanksgiving Sale commercials cluttering the airwaves. No one can escape it. But what’s really pushed me over the edge are the stores that have chosen to trump their competitors by actually opening and pushing their wares on Thanksgiving, i.e., Kmart and Wal-Mart. Gee whiz, isn’t anything sacred anymore?

Yeah, I understand we live in a consumer driven society and we’re a country of gotta have the biggest and baddest for the cheapest, but Thanksgiving is a time to gather with friends and family and sort of disconnect from the hustle and bustle of life to reflect on what’s going right in our lives.

Now, maybe you can't gather with your family or your family is totally dysfunctional, you don’t have to celebrate the holiday with them, use the day to slow down, or volunteer with some social service agency feeding the less fortunate, or hang with the some friends, anything, just don’t add to the coffers of the these merchants, who have totally chucked this once no shopping zone, only for the benefit of their stockholders. It’s only one day for God’s sake and then the day after, Black Friday, all bets are off and everyone can get their shopping on!

Happy Thanksgiving!

I love Thanksgiving. I’ve loved Thanksgiving all my life and it may be the only American holiday that I truly buy into. I mean what’s not to love, you’re given a feeding frenzy pass and you can let yourself go and enjoy four full days of laying back and literally chew the fat.

When I was a kid, my family and I would gather at my Aunt Minnie’s for the holiday and I was always the center of attention as the only kid on the scene; and the Sunday following Thanksgiving, everyone would gather again, but this time at my grandmother’s to enjoy the leftovers. We followed this same routine well into my college years, and honestly, it was fine with me. I’ve never been big on change.

I can’t remember the year things shifted to having Thanksgiving dinner at my parents, but I was cool with it, because all of the living players followed the meal to my parent’s house, so it was simply a change in location.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve really learned to appreciate the stability of my childhood and our traditions, and mourn how much things have changed and the family members who are no longer with us. I expected that I would pass these traditions onto my children.

When I express these feelings to my mom or Aunt Pam, they explain that it’s up to Loverman and me to create new traditions for the kids. For the last few years we’ve had Thanksgiving at our house and my now separated parents have joined us with my elderly aunts. This isn’t going to work this year because tensions between my folks are at an all-time high.

This year we’re joining my cousin Allyson. She’s like a sister to me and she’s had one hell of a year and is in search of creating a few new traditions of her own.

I think I’m finally getting pass this wishing for the good ‘ole days and looking to focus on the larger picture, not the interchangeable details, like the fact that regardless where we land for the meal, we’re surrounded by loving friends and family and our blessings are abundant.

Have a wonderful holiday people.

Mammy Two Shoes

As a kid, I was pretty serious and I didn’t like most cartoons. Other than The Flintstones, and maybe The Jetsons, I could care less. Since having my children, I’ve developed a greater appreciation for animation and cartoons and sometimes I even find myself thoroughly absorbed in the cat and mouse antics of Tom & Jerry (one of my son’s favorites).

Now, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m totally consumed with raising media literate kids and the subliminal messages of many new and old cartoons can be deep. The recurring housekeeper character, Mammy Two Shoes, in the earlier Tom & Jerry cartoons is particularly disturbing.

Mammy Two Shoes appeared in the very first Tom & Jerry cartoon, Puss Gets the Boot, and is portrayed as a loud, overweight middle-aged Black woman, yet as stated in a Wikipedia entry, she was famous for never showing her face; like girlfriend had a choice, she is an animated character created by the dynamic duo Hanna and Barbera. The portrayal of this stereotypical character was inspired by the Academy Award winner Hattie McDaniel, from Gone with the Wind and the underlying tone is your Black and faceless, like the countless women who commonly worked as domestics in White households throughout this country.

Over the years, Mammy Two Shoes has seen quite a few changes to reflect the current political climate. In the mid-1950s, with a burgeoning civil rights movement, a white, middle-class couple replaced Mammy and audiences were treated to seeing their faces. In the 1960s, old versions of Tom & Jerry cartoons were re-edited, by a process known as rotoscoping, to replace Mammy with a thin white woman, and the voice on the soundtracks was replaced by an Irish-accented voice and again, you can see her face.

When watching these cartoons with my kids, I often ask them to tell me, in detail, what they like and dislike about what we’ve just watched and my brilliant brown babies always question why we never see the African American woman’s face. I try to use this opportunity to introduce ideas about representation and we discuss how other African American characters are portrayed in some of their other favorite cartoons, i.e. the sassy and neck-rolling Black female on The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron, or the smart, talented and sensitive Gerald on Nickelodeon’s Hey-Arnold.

Before the advent of 24-hour programming and cable television, parents had greater control over cartoon/media consumption, but now children are inundated with images from the moment they exit the womb. In addition to mediating their viewing choices, it’s imperative to contextualize these images and messages, because if not, we run the risk of mindlessly perpetuating these stilted and harmful stereotypes.

Let me tell you a story

I often make up stories. I don’t mean fictional stories or lies. I mean sometimes I encounter situations of which I’m simply an observer and I’ll make up a story in my head to fit the scenario. I do it just to amuse myself, or to pass the time. Unlike the story I’m about to tell, I rarely share these stories with anyone.

I did, however, share the first part of this story with Loverman a few weeks ago. As I mentioned in an earlier post, we moved to this neighborhood last spring and in an attempt to guarantee that we have some solo, adult time everyday, and consistent exercise, Loverman and I take our two dogs out for a walk twice a day. These daily walks have been great in acclimating us to the neighborhood and meeting a few of our new neighbors. One of our neighbors included a household with two parents, twin little boys and a baby daughter. Throughout the summer, these kids would play in their backyard and run over almost every evening to pet our pug, Chester, as I came around the corner. Their mother and I would wave and exchange pleasantries. As the summer came to an end, I noticed that I hadn’t seen the kids or wife in a while, but I didn’t give it too much thought. A few mornings I’d see the husband riding his bike to his house and he’d give me a little nod to acknowledge he’d seen me. I’ve never spoken to the husband. A few weeks after I’d noticed not seeing the wife and kids, a dumpster appeared in their driveway and after two days it filled with old furniture and other odd items. The dumpster was removed within the week. And, after dark, there would be few lights on in their house, but it would be enough to see that the house looked pretty empty with no photos or art work on the walls in the living room. The energy around the house was too still, it was void of energy. I guess it dawned on me sometime in October that not only hadn’t I seen this man’s wife or kids but also their car was never in their driveway. I guess it was about this time that I began making up this story.

The story I imagined was simple, nothing too morbid, yet I didn’t share it with Loverman until the end of October. Finally, I shared with my husband that I think the Mrs. picked up the kids and left the husband and even though the thought made me a bit sad, I guess the husband was cool with it because it didn’t take him too long before he hired a dumpster to clear out all their left over stuff. As expected, Loverman hadn’t even noticed not seeing the kids or wife over the last six weeks. What can I say, Loverman isn’t very observant!

Well, guess what? Last night as we made our way around the corner with the dogs, a car very similar to the one the wife used to drive was in the driveway. I’m not sure if it’s her’s or not, but Loverman said, “What about your story now? It looks like they're back.”

As much as I hope this is true, my longstanding addiction to Law & Order and Snapped, assures me that this is not a foregone conclusion and few scenarios could be at play:

a.) the wife and kids may have returned
b.) the husband got himself together and got a car
c.) none of the above

Loverman says if the leaves in their yard are raked up in the next few days, wifey and the kids have returned. I say, if they have returned, the wife was called away to nurse a sick relative who lives in another state and thought it best to take the kids with her.

To be continued…

Pushing buttons

In my digital storytelling workshop with the high school girls we’re exploring issues of conflict resolution. We’ve been discussing how people push our buttons and I’ve been trying to help the young ladies understand that by responding negatively or with aggression they are allowing the other person to have control over them. I often have this same conversation with my two kids.

Well, the other day I found myself in a too familiar situation and I allowed my buttons to be pushed and I pushed back with attitude.

It all started when we got the kids to school a little late on Thursday morning and if you drive up to the school after 8:25am, you have to park the car and sign the kids in at the front desk. It’s a huge hassle, but a terrific motivator to get the kids to school on time.

So, Loverman parked the car and I hauled the kids to the elevator to make our way up to the front desk with a bunch of other late families. When we get to the front office, there’s a line with about 5 people in front of us, and about 10 folks behind me. I instructed the kids to make their way to their classrooms as I waited to handle the sign in. I’m patiently waiting when I notice Mr. White Man, who was behind me, leaves the line and decides to stand right next to the folks currently signing their kids in. I’m next in line and I look him squarely in the face as he huffs and puffs and makes all sort of gestures signifying he’s in a hurry. As soon as the woman ahead of finishes with the clipboard, this joker has the nerve to grab the clipboard and handle his business. I couldn’t believe it and I tried to count to 10 before I opened my mouth and say something completely inappropriate. In the few seconds before he finished, I tried my best to just let it go, but of course, I couldn’t. I had to say something. I needed this fool to acknowledge the wrong he’d just done. As he took the time to shove the clipboard my way, I, sarcastically and loudly say, “You could of at least said, excuse me.” The joker looked at me in the eye as if he was seeing me for the first time and asked, “What do you mean?” I went on to ask him if he didn’t realize that we all were in line and this fool then exclaims, “Yes, but I have to get to work.” Well fool, we all do. I’m on my way to work. Loverman, waiting in the car, will go to work after he drops me off and I’m sure all the other parents behind me have somewhere to be after they get their kids to school.

As this man is looking at me like I’m a piece of new fruit, he couldn’t seem to understand why I chose to call him out, and a part of me wishes I could have simply sucked it up, appealed to my higher self and silently wish him well, but I just couldn’t. Unfortunately, this particular scenario has happened to me and countless others too many times to count, and each time to happens, it’s just like the first and I want the insult/disrespect to be acknowledged. I want a sincere apology.

I may be wrong, but I believe race dynamics are at play in these situations. Why did this man think that the other (mostly brown) people waiting didn’t have a job to go to? Does he really think his interests supercede the rest of us? If I’m going to be honest, I’d say it’s how he’s been socialized and some might go on to say that I’ve been socialized to feel victimized or slighted by his actions. Maybe, but sometimes people dismiss how simple, thoughtful gestures and positive intent can do a world of good in healing race relations.

Getting Reacquainted

Every now and then I come across something I remember enjoying tremendously in my past life. I don’t mean past lives as in before I was born into my present being. I mean past life as in before I became someone’s wife and mother. Like the other night, I was channel surfing and I came across a broadcast of a Nina Simone concert at the 1994 Montreaux Jazz Festival.

Ms. Simone was fabulous and I enjoyed seeing her working it out at the piano as she sang a string of her haunting hits, and she even got up from the piano to treat the crowd to shameless shimmy as she sang See Line Woman. The woman was bad and she lived her entire existence unapologetic of her solidly African presence.

I remember imagining myself sophisticated and worldly, many lazy Sunday mornings as I played my various Simone discs, gravitating between cruising the Sunday Times and catching a few catnaps, something totally foreign to my current situation as a mother of an 8 and 5yr old.

A lot of Ms. Simone’s work is now relegated to movie soundtracks. I’m happy I could put my hands on some of her old CDs and as I listened today at work, I realized many of her recordings are more relevant than ever.