Media Literacy

Up until my daughter, Olivia, started kindergarten she thought the car radio only broadcast news and information and her favorite DJ was Terry Gross, from NPR’s Fresh Air and that was absolutely fine with me.

My husband and I are big music fans, but once the babies came, it became too hard to constantly monitor the lyrics broadcast across the airwaves, so we either listened to NPR or popped in a CD.

It took but a minute once Olivia started school before she came home asking, “What’s a Beyonce?” Right there and then I knew the jig was up and Loverman and I would have to definitely step up our game. No, we cannot shield our kids from all the world’s evils or even the simply questionable, but we must provide them with the skills to process/decode the images and messages by which they’re being bombarded.

I’m currently facilitating a digital storytelling project with a group of high school girls and we’re exploring their conflict resolution issues. Every week we begin our sessions by discussing what the girls watched on television the previous week, and I ask each girl to provide a critique as to what they watched. I’m trying to get them to identify and articulate what they like and dislike aesthetically--- basically to develop a vocabulary that provides clarity as to what may turn them on or off. This has proven to be a bit challenging, and although this is an urban high school, it is a privately managed, charter school. The school is provided ample resources to ensure the success of its students and its progressive programs, yet in spite of this exceptional support, the students still fail to see beyond what's placed right in front of them, to dig deeper.

My girls’ use terms like, “I’m going’ to cap her ass if she doesn’t get out my face,” or “she better watch her back cause I’m packing.” When I question if they’re really threatening to shoot each other, or if they’re carrying guns, they (and the school’s administrators) assure me that they’re not and I believe them. What I don’t understand is why these young ladies have chosen to adopt this ghetto/gangster/gun toting’ lingo to hawk their wolf tickets?

The problem is they haven’t learned how to distinguish fact from fiction and they’ve bought, lock, stock and barrel the ghetto fabulous imagery that surrounds us all.

It’s imperative that we teach our children the power of words/images and the power we give our words/images once they’re released into the universe.

Bee is for Bad

I may be digging a bit too deep, because it is just a kid’s movie for God’s sake, but the Bee Movie is BAD.

I feel pretty qualified to make this assessment. First of all, before I became a wife and mother, I went to graduate school for film and after graduate school, I taught a few film courses for several semesters at Temple and Loverman currently teaches film at the same university. Hell, I even met my future husband at the Cannes Film Festival.

Since having my babies, our visits to art film houses have been replaced by a Netflix queue and frequent visits to the local metroplex to check out the latest animated offerings with the kids. In April, Loverman and his partner even released their first feature-length kid’s animated film, The Adventures of Teddy P. Brains. So, when I heard Jerry Seinfeld convinced Steven Spielberg to spend $150,000,000 to make the Bee Movie and another $150,000,000 to market the flick, I wanted to check it out and since the kid’s school was closed today, it seemed like a today was the day.

Well… it was a total bust. I guess the filmmakers did a good job in conveying the invaluable role of the bee in our eco system, but beyond making that point, the movie isn’t engaging at all. Over the years, there’s been several animated films released that engage both children and parents, like the Shrek franchise, A Bug’s Life and my all-time favorite, The Incredibles.

What makes these films stand out is the filmmakers understanding that the devil is in the details, not only in the character development, but also in crafting the story and this is what The Bee Movie lacks. You’re not given enough of a back story to really care that “Bruce the bee” has fallen in love with a human or why a “drag queen” has sold out her colony and that colony is now resigned to producing honey for the pleasure of humans. The film doesn’t even have a banging soundtrack and everybody knows that when the credits roll, the booties should shake.

But, should I really expect Seinfeld to pay attention to the details? For years he created a NYC where again, he ignored the diversity and nuances that make the city so dynamic.

Mommy Rule #232

This school year I adopted a new “mommy rule,” if the kids are off from school, mommy’s off from work.

I guess while treading the hamster’s wheel we call life, getting the kids to school on time, working a full-time job, homework, soccer practice, and all the other daily crap, I somehow missed that the kid’s school is closed tomorrow for staff professional development activities and Monday for Veteran’s Day--- oh, happy day or two!

A Sincere Apology

“I apologize to his family. I never meant for this to happen." These words came from John Lewis, the confessed killer of Philadelphia Police Officer Chuck Cassidy. Cassidy was shot in the head last week as he walked into a Dunkin Donuts on his beat in the northwest section of the city.

Philadelphia is currently one of the deadliest cities in the country, and last week’s murder of Officer Cassidy is simply a sad addendum to a seemingly never-ending story of gun violence which grips this city. The city’s response of outrage and sadness for Cassidy’s family and loved ones transcends racial lines, despite Cassidy being White and Lewis being Black. Folks here in Philly are just fed-up. We're at a complete loss as to what to do to address this plague.

Lewis was on the run for the past week, as local, state and federal authorities worked overtime to identify and capture the officer’s killer. He was finally tracked down in a homeless shelter in Miami, where he surrendered without incident. Lewis offered his unsolicited apology as police placed him in custody, surrounded by reporters and photographers.

In the last couple of years we’ve heard several high profile celebrity apologies that reeked of insincerity and the polish of a publicist spin, i.e. Mel Gibson, Michael Richards, Isaiah Washington, and the stark contrast of Lewis’ admission of guilt and apology may offer little comfort to Cassidy’s family, but for me, it at least demonstrates that despite his heartless act, there is a soul that acknowledges and regrets his deadly deed.

Powerful Thinking

I’m so blessed. I’m grateful for so many things, yet when confronted with life’s little challenges, I lose all perspective of what really matters, like the fact that my children are healthy and thriving; and my husband loves me and we’re maintaining a loving and balanced home for our family; or that I have a job that I enjoy most of the time.

For the last few weeks, I’ve been on the edge of a complete meltdown and it’s as if even the smallest thing stresses me out. I believe most of my anxiety is rooted in a lack of financial security. Like many folks, we’re living with very little cushion financially and I’m constantly waiting for some imaginary shoe to drop and Loverman and I will find ourselves unprepared to handle.

It’s no Secret that if you give too much energy to any one thought, there’s a good chance you’re going to bring it to fruition and guess what… that’s just what happened today. After dropping the kids off at school this morning, Loverman and I were in the left-hand lane at a stop light and when the light changed to green, a school bus in the right lane went to make a right turn, but didn’t take note that we were in the left lane and they didn’t have the span to make the turn without taking out the entire passenger side of our family’s only vehicle. Thankfully, no one was hurt, there were no children on the bus and our car is still drivable, but aesthetically the car is jacked up. Yeah, we’ve got insurance, and it will get fixed in the next few weeks, but I do believe this is the shoe I attracted with my frantic/worrisome energy over the last few weeks.

I don’t like feeling this way; it makes me feel ungrateful for all the things that are working in my life. I’ve got to develop some strategies to cope better, but I need help. Before we moved last spring, we attended church regularly, but the church is now about a 40 min. drive from our new home and our attendance has been spotty at best. I enjoyed going to this church. I liked the people, pastor; message, experience, everything and now I see it did help me in keeping my eye on the big picture.

And since I can name my fear—lack of financial security, I need to address the situation and release its power over me, so tomorrow, I’m going to open an ING account, something I’ve been promising myself for the last couple of months.

Writing this post has even alleviated some of my anxiety, so I think every now and then I’ll take time to check in and put some of these things on paper, maybe by getting it out of my head and out into the universe will help me to keep things in perspective and on task.

What's up with this?

This weekend I was determined to go to the movies with Loverman. I even let Loverman select the movie. My only mandate was that Pixar couldn’t be in the credits. It seems like a month of Sundays since we’ve been to the movies without the kids.

It wasn’t a surprise when Loverman decided that today’s flick would be American Gangster. Sure, the movie was entertaining and Denzel is in top form. In fact, the role didn’t seem like much of a stretch for Mr. Washington, but besides all of this, can somebody explain to me how some folks think it’s appropriate to bring their babies/toddles/children to violent, foul-language laden R-rated movies? This drives me nuts. I know, not everyone has a lot of support, or is able to drum up a sitter, but if this is the case, then sit this one out for goodness sake. It’s only a movie and believe me, even though kids may not understand everything that’s going on up on the screen, much of it is being encoded somewhere in the precious wiring of these kids.

More importantly, as parents, we’re constantly forced to make choices and sacrifices and not seeing this movie, the very weekend it’s released is not much of a sacrifice--- get over it because right now, unless you have an available sitter, all of your movie choices may have Pixar in their credits.

Aliens

Men are simply aliens. That’s right, women are human and men are from a far and distant planet that has yet to be discovered. Forget all that Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus bullshit. Men are aliens and there are concrete facts that have been identified and confirm this well-kept phenomenon. The most important being that their mothers are used as the portals by which these aliens are delivered to Earth.

Another well-known secret is that they speak a completely foreign tongue. Now it may sound like a familiar dialect, but in actuality it’s a highly devolved language that rarely translates to reflect what the male really means to say, but only what he thinks we want to hear. You only have to look to our most recent Presidents to confirm this fact. Who could forget Bill Clinton’s attempt to redefine the word “it,” and George W’s never-ending spins on his justification for going to war in Iraq. Sometimes this language barrier can even confuse those of their own alien race.

Now, I did not become aware of these facts until after I married my husband at the ripe old age of 36. Up until this time I’d been traversing the dating landscape blindly, stumbling in the dark trying to find my ideal mate. The last couple of years before I met my husband, I had somehow become the girl he dated, right before he met the woman who would become his wife. I’ve labeled this role-- the primer. I was the girlfriend who got the guy into the marrying mode. By the time these fateful pairings went belly-up, I’d molded most of these guys to appear to be picture-perfect boyfriends... potential husband material. They’d mastered the prerequisite skills including spending quality time with my friends and family; giving adequate gifts for birthdays, Christmas and Valentine’s Day; and finally, resisted running for the hills whenever I mentioned the ticking of my biological clock, yet despite all of this, I’d yet to find my way to seal the deal. These guys were all really great guys, but when it came time to shit or get off the pot, each one of them left me and went right into the arms of another, and I was left trying to figure out what was wrong with me. None of my sister friends, or my mother and aunts, sat me down to explain, that it wasn’t my fault, but I had not learn to decode this ancient alien behavior.

Well… it’s high time we remove this veil of secrecy and expose these extra-terrestrials cohabitating among us. Now, even though no one told me about this, there are millions of women around the globe who are aware of the male alien status and some of them have made conscious decisions not to engage in the time honored ritual of finding a male mate--- their known as Elective Lesbians. Yes, many women are born lesbians and have known since a very young age that they are attracted to girls and not boys, but within the lesbian community, there is a growing sect of women who have made an informed decision, after being kicked about in the dating scene, and have chosen to no longer participate in these mixed match pairings-- thus, elective lesbians. It’s just like the recent boon in elective plastic surgery. Those of us, who are hearty heterosexuals, cannot make this choice so easily, but God bless those who have made the switch. I first noticed this trend a few years after graduating from college. Some of the women who I was friendly with in college and with whom I shared crushes on a few of the guys, had sworn off men somewhere between graduate school and their first bona fide “grown-up” jobs. Maybe some of them had been faking it in college, but smart money says that more than a few of them just got sick of male/female duet and decided not to participate in the dance anymore--- or at least not with their alien counterparts.

As most women get older, we do become more adept in our dealings with the male species. But, these are often hard fought victories and lessons learned by old-fashioned trial and error. I think most women would make sounder choices in selecting a mate, if we knew earlier in the game, the truth about the other team.

The truth is, men and women are fundamentally different. Our overall make-up follows the basic principle of yin and yang. Women foolishly expect men to feel and see things the way we do--- BIG MISTAKE! The yin/yang principle is all about balance and if followed properly, male/female couplings should seek partners who compliment their ideal balance. This means that if you’re an extrovert, then Mr. Life of the Party may not be the right guy for you.

There are a few preventative measures women can take to navigate the demands of living with and loving an alien (especially if joining the Elective Lesbians is not an option.) The first being, recruiting the vessel of their deliverance to earth as your ally, or in other words, become friends with the man’s mother. This may be a bit challenging, but in the long run, dear ole’ mother-in-law can be your greatest asset and advocate. A man’s mother usually knows the man she raised better than any other person on earth and by developing an independent relationship with his mother, she will learn to look at you as a confidant, while providing you with invaluable insight as to how to understand your particular alien. All aliens may be created equal, yet it’s important to learn the operational quirks of your specific model. If your alien’s mother is no longer a part of his life, if she’s dearly departed or maybe simply too dysfunctional to employ as your alien navigator, then look for a reasonable facsimile with which your alien has a close and loving rapport and this does not include ex-girlfriends. It may include aunts, sisters, cousins, etc. The goal is to get someone from our Earth team, to give you the lowdown on your chosen mate from the alien team.

Another tried and true tactic of maintaining a meaningful relationship with this alien creature is learning to deconstruct the alien tongue. As stated earlier, despite its similarity to the languages we speak on Earth, the male language is nothing like ours. It’s rife with multiple definitions for the same word and oftentimes, what begins as an innocuous conversation morphs into an endless diatribe peppered with sports metaphors. While learning their alien tongue may be difficult, it is essential and can be achieved with practice. Other techniques include listening more and talking less; trying to participate in the conversation will only lead to frustration. While listening try to identify clues to what they’re really trying to say. For example, when you ask, “What would you like for dinner this evening?” and they listlessly respond, “whatever,” what they’re actually saying is, “I’m sick of your cooking, so let’s order take-out.” Don’t be offended; simply look at it as an opportunity to get out of the kitchen for the evening.

As we enter this age of enlightenment in understanding our alien male counterparts, hold onto these truths. Always trust your intuition in your dealings with the other species. Nine times out of ten, your gut will usually lead you in the right direction. Remember to take good care of your physical, as well as emotional well-being as you build a life with your alien, because you’ll need all your faculties in establishing a bi-species household; and finally, create a support circle with other women. An invaluable truism my mother did share and should have tipped me to the down low about the whole alien thing is that you should never look to a man for nurturing, most are incapable. That’s why girls should take the time and develop solid and supportive relationships with their girlfriends. My mother urged me never to dis my girls for a guy, because a great, genuine friendship with your girl will probably last far longer than most male/female romances.