Inevitable Milestone

My dear sweet, Olivia, recently experienced a sad milestone. Olivia’s 8 and in the third grade and yesterday, while in school, she got into a discussion with one of her classmates about religion. The other little girl is Jewish and she and Olivia have been in the same class since kindergarten. During this discussion, the other little girl proclaimed that she didn’t believe in Olivia’s God, Olivia countered that there’s only one God, and then the little girl went on to say that not only didn’t she believe in Olivia’s God, but she didn’t like Black people either.

Now, most Black folks can vividly remember the first time they experienced an overtly racist moment and for Miss Olivia it was yesterday. As prepared, as I know Olivia was for this moment, it didn’t dampen the wave of sadness I felt as I realized the bloom in some respects is off the rose. There’s no way to get around it, a layer of Olivia’s childhood simply slipped away with this exchange.

When I asked Olivia how she felt about her classmate’s comment, Olivia said she thought the girl said what she did because she wanted to hurt Olivia’s feelings. Olivia didn’t seem to take it too personally, in fact, she thought it was sort of funny that this little girl could make such a general statement about not liking Black people, because from what Olivia’s observed, this young lady doesn’t seem to know too many Black people, so how does she have enough experience to declare that she doesn’t like any Black people?

After discussing the day’s events with Loverman, we agreed I should reach out to the little girl’s parents, especially since I’d developed a friendly rapport with her mother over the past four years. Hell, Olivia and the girl have even had a couple of play dates over the years, and despite the fact that Olivia seemed to have weathered this exchange unfazed, I wanted to let this mother know that her daughter had come to a place where she was feeling comfortable with voicing her budding prejudices. I’m also aware that these pronouncements come from somewhere; it may be in school or even at home. Maybe the parents need to check the racial overtones they may be unconsciously projecting.

The girl’s mom made a surprising admission when relayed her daughter’s comments. Over the past few weeks, she’s heard both her daughters make mildly racist statements. This alone is scary since her daughters’ ages are 9 and 7. She went on to lament that she and her husband didn’t know where these feelings were coming from and were at their wits end as to how to address it. I asked her if other than at school did she and her family have any contact with people that didn’t look like them? “Not very often,” she sighed. Well, for me, therein lies the problem.

When discussing this incident with my mom, she reminded me of some of my early racially motivated encounters. Throughout elementary and high school I was the only Black student in most of my classes. Nowadays, schools don’t want students distributing birthday invitations in class if every student isn’t being invited, but back in the days before political correctness, I was often excluded and rarely received an invitation as they were doled out among my classmates. My mom recounted the numerous times she told me she wasn’t paying the school’s tuition for me to be invited to birthday parties. I can’t remember when I stopped caring, but believe me; I don’t have many fond memories of my elementary or high school years.

Look people, it all boils down to breaking the cycle and when these precious creatures come into the world they don’t have preconceived ideas of black, white, green or yellow. They get those cues directly from the horse’s mouth. Let’s be mindful.

My Addiction

Yesterday, I came face-to-face with one of my greatest (and sweetest) temptations and I’m very proud to report that I did not succumb! This is a huge step for me because late last spring I developed a non-ceasing jones for Whole Foods lemon bars. My desire for this lemony treat was primal and I’d lost total control under its spell. I rationalized this indulgence by not eating an entire bar in one day, but even just a half a bar a day is way too much. Instead of eating the damn bar, I should have just slapped it up against by rear end and rubbed it in, because in my more rational moments I knew that’s exactly where it was headed.

The seriousness of this situation revealed itself one Sunday afternoon in August when I stopped by the local Whole Foods to pick up my week’s supply (like this alone wasn’t a red flag!) and they didn’t have any. I felt a bit stressed, but decided to just let my fingers do the walking and I came home, grabbed the Yellow Pages and called around to the other Whole Foods in the area, only to find that none of the stores had them available. Management told me, that there was a problem with the supplier. That’s when not only the real panic set in, but also disgust when I realized that I’d become tricked out by this little yellow bar.

Right then and there I decided to take control of the situation, but I wish I could report that I said adios to those lemon bars and never looked back, but that’s not what happened. I just moved on to another addition--- cupcakes, the world’s most perfect food. That’s right, when I couldn’t get my hands on the Whole Foods lemon bars, I went online and found a recipe for lemon cupcakes and baked the most scrumptious lemon cupcakes with butter cream frosting. The upside of this confectionary passion is that I enjoy baking the cupcakes a bit more than eating them, so I satisfy my craving with a few finger dips in the batter, then share the bounty of cupcakes with family, neighbors, co-workers, friends, the mailman--- anyone, just get them out of my house. My repertoire of recipes has expanded to chocolate chip cupcakes, vanilla and chocolate cupcakes and this weekend I’m going to try a delightful red velvet cupcake recipe--- Mmmmm!

I've been tagged!

Well, Miss Nerd Girl tagged me (thanks Girl for including me!), so it's my turn to participate in this meme-thing. I'm not sure if I've even done this correctly, but here goes, 7 random mango mama tidbits...

1. When I was in 5th grade, Roots was broadcast for the first time. I was the only little Black kid in Sr. Stevens class and I was pretty feeling good about myself and enjoying all the attention Roots was getting. Hey, it was back in the day and there still weren’t a lot of options featuring Black folks in all of our glory! Anyhoo, one day Sr. Stevens came into class and started calling me Kizzy. I couldn’t believe it. When she first did it, I looked around the class, because I just knew she wasn’t talking to me, but sure enough she was looking right at me and I was mortified. Why was this crazy nun referring to me as Kizzy? Well, she did this for the rest of the day and I went right home and told my parents. They were as confused as I was and contacted the teacher the next day. Sr. Stevens gave some convoluted explanation that Kizzy was played by Leslie Uggams, and Miss Uggams was Sr. Stevens’ favorite colored actress and since I’m Sr. Stevens’ favorite colored student, it just made sense that her pet name for me should be Kizzy. Go figure? My mom and dad explained in no uncertain terms that referring to me as Kizzy, a young slave character on Roots, was unacceptable and if she kept it up, a lawsuit would soon come.

2. Although I’m a ferocious reader now, this wasn’t always the case. In kindergarten, I was diagnosed with dyslexia and thus began four years of intense tutoring to develop skills to cope with it. This was news to my parents, because they thought I was practically reading when I went into kindergarten, but what they learned is that I had become an expert at memorizing everything by repetition and sound, so I wasn’t really reading the little board books, but I was just repeating what they’d been reading to me. This was a really painful time, because each day I was separated from my class to go the “special” teacher and I hated reading aloud in the class. Something clicked when I was in the 5th grade and all of the skills I’d learned, especially the one which taught me to mentally flip each of the letters, really kicked in and I began reading with a vengeance. I sometimes still have dyslexic episodes, like when I was in college, if I stayed up too late studying, I’d start seeing everything backwards and couldn’t retain any of the information. It was better for me simply to go to sleep and get up extra early to get my studying on.

3. I met Loverman at the Cannes Film Festival back in 1998 and told him just hours after we met that he would be my husband one day. Fortunately, he believed me and we’ve been together since that day. I knew when I left for this trip to Cannes that something life changing was about to happen, in fact, I even broke up with the joker I was dating for the few months leading up to my trip to France. I just knew I needed to clear the way for the blessings about to come.

4. I dated Jesse Jackson, Jr. when I was in my late teens and through some of my college years. Sorry, I won’t be offering any more details on this one☺

5. With each of my two pregnancies I didn’t have very many food cravings, but I did suffer horribly with olfactory cravings. I had the strongest urges to sniff fabric softener sheets (Bounce was my preferred brand) and cedar shavings for the bottom of hamster and gerbil cages. My poor husband was so concerned he actually called and checked with our midwife to see if this would harm the baby in any way. I alternated sniffing these two things through both of the births and the cravings ceased hours after the births.

6. I love listening and singing along with Frank Sinatra—don’t ask.

7. My maternal grandmother’s family, the Bascoms, is one for the first seven freed Black families of Philadelphia and if you saw how fair this particular lineage was, you’d understand why!

Now, I'd like to pass along this meme chain onto:

Melissa the Mouth
The Crones' Kitchen
Hatha Mama
Incoming
Tag, you're it!

The Man or Woman in the Mirror

When I was a younger, my mom used to urge me to choose my friends wisely, because they’re a reflection of you. She’s right and through the years I’ve also learned that if you’re lucky, your friends can reflect the person you’re aspiring to be.

Case in point, today my sister, Allyson, is leaving for a two-week journey to various villages in Nigeria to offer her medical services, free of charge, to whoever needs it. She’s working with the Nigerian-based Pro-health International. Allyson is my sister by nurture, not by nature. She’s actually a distant cousin, and we didn’t meet until we were 18, but from the day we met, we’ve been thick as thieves, and vitally engaged in each other’s lives. Through Allyson, I’ve learned the importance of consistent nurturing of familial relationships. Allyson is not only my girl, but she’s actively engaged in the lives of my children and husband. As Loverman and I struggle to do our best to raise loving, intelligent and insightful children, Aunt Allyson is here to fill in any blanks that we may miss along the way.

I’m also happy to say that Loverman inspires me daily. I often tell the kids that in my eyes I’ve already done my best by them because I’ve given them the best daddy in the world and anyone who personally knows Loverman, will agree that this is the absolute truth. As a dad, the only thing this man hasn’t done (other than the physical labor to bring them into the world) is breastfeed. Because of Loverman, I am learning to be a more patient and present parent.

I could wax poetic about all of my friends, and the fact of the matter is I’d be hard press to identify even one who in some way or another doesn’t challenge me to be a better person. I hope that as a sister, wife, mother and friend, I’m not the slug in the group and in my unique way, I do the same for them.

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.