Baggage. Got Luggage?

I am serving as a helper in "room mom" duties, a concept invented in the suburbs. When I was growing up there was no "room mom" - there were a host of parents that stepped in to make stuff for bake sales, come to school for special events, or drive car pool for field trips. My mother worked out of necessity and was good at what she did, and she missed the memo on taking off work for field trips to places we went together to see on Saturday. I was whole-heartedly unprepared for the class of women that were created through this process. That is until this year.

I was having a conversation with a room mom who asked how our year was going. I took for granted that she wanted to hear the answer and I am no slacker myself - I can hold my own in the volunteer world for blessing classrooms. I responded honestly - its been a bit of a tough year. My academic genius is struggling a bit - in all areas, but mainly socially. I stated that the lack of cultural diversity and the absence of people of color remained a bit of an issue, even more so as the children grow up. Let the defensiveness begin.

After a few minutes of opining about how everyone is nice to my children, I clarified that I was not discussing nice. If you put your child in a classroom or school full of people from a different culture, we could all be very nice, but your dear child would notice that he/she was different. I was beginning to feel overly agitated. I was heading down a difficult road.

My first commitment is to my children and building their self-esteem to be able to cope with any situation. I'm just not sure I want to spend most of my life focusing on coping skills instead of fostering learning and enjoying childhood. I clarified my feedback in the conversation and explained we picked a Christian school because it was our belief that the most important commonality was values in a learning environment. I went on to say that Christianity doesn't mean, however, that people aren't diverse with their own priorities, interests and cliques.

Room mother insight, "Well we all have our baggage." Excuse me, pardon me, I think I've choked on my latte. Did I say that being a person of color was baggage or a burden? My children carry their ray of sunshine brightly in the midst of what can be unbearable circumstances. And now, being Black is just , baggage.

I wonder what the baggage is when history is filtered as to be more fiction than reality, when the staff and leadership doesn't reflect the student body much less the society, and when becoming a room mom is a power structure of homogeneous folks who often don't have a clue - can we say gang habits? I have finally decided that I'm pretty much done. So much for the education process of people who don't want to be educated. As a mom, I need not lead the class when my children are struggling to find their way in a world that believes color blind is terrific, and not a tragedy. The lesson her - 100% mine and 0% hers.

As moms we must carry a lot of things to make our children's lives work - we carry diaper bags, changes of clothes, purses, money, soccer gear, gymnastics gear, spare snacks, chapter books, life lessons, emergency medical cards, pocket games, grocery lists, to do lists, thank you lists......but be careful not to carry baggage. I mean really, you can fit or blend in, but don't just rock the boat - that would be uncivilized. As for me and my house - we don't subscribe to sanitized living where you deny race and culture, and we're, uhhh, umm Black folks. I guess for some that means we've got baggage, but I'm going to go with we've got work to do. Work building our children and our family, because in 2007 - We Are the World just isn't playing in the background as a soundtrack. I for one am worried about gang violence in my suburban area - the kind in private schools with cliques of women who paint th world with one broad stroke.

Stupidity. I mean't ..... well, for now I meant exactly what I said. Stupidity.

The Color of Tears

Racial dynamics in our non-diverse neighborhood and private school have been very interesting as of late. With the Jena 6 and the community dynamics along racial lines, it seems that everywhere I turned there was something coming up about race in America. I listen to NPR on a regular basis and whenever I hear about the state of affairs internationally, I wonder what is going on right here. With kids 8, 5 and 3 it has been sad to even think about. Until today.

I attend a weekly Bible Study with a diverse group of women. I'm a new member and I was wondering about our connectivity, our differences really. Then today, when we were sharing our "stories" of significance about our relationship with God I realized something. The color of tears is universal. We are more alike than we are unalike. Even when things seem so different between us, at least for the women in my prayer circle, the color of our tears connects us deeply.

I have Native American in me - Really

Why does the world make my life harder?

In a recent interview with Beyonce she responded to a question about her Latina support noting that "I'm just jealous that I wasn't born Latina." You can read about the entire interview at Latina.com.

Raising a daughter in 2007 shouldn't be so hard, but surely it is.

I learned about the interview at What About Our Daughters - a really interesting blog that works to bring awareness about issues facing women from a variety of angles. I have to tell you I blog about just about anything but lately I've stayed away from critical world issues, content to talk about my little world. Without cable, access to BET, or enough time to enjoy television, I thought I was becoming exempt from discussing the impact of pop culture or recounting what the truth the news does not tell. Guess I can't afford that habit any longer.

Being a beautiful Black girl is hard enough without looking up and seeking the last pop icon declare she's jealous she wasn't born Latina. Nothing against Latina's but Ugly Betty star America Ferrera is holding down the fort. She is confident, secure, beautiful and last I read - proud of her heritage. Sigh. Shake my head. Beyonce? I'm telling my seven year old, my dear, "Let me upgrade you."

With my French name truly I have vivid memories of almost getting my butt beat for the unending debate about heritage in school. I grew up with pictures of Native Americans in my great grandmother's hallway, and watched our elders respond haphazardly that those folks were our ancestors. When I mentioned in school that I was 1/8th Indian, a playground full of kids almost ended my admiration of long french braids down the back of your head as a fashion style. I didn't recognize then that the issue of sensitivity in central city T-Town was the thin line between knowing your background and denying who you are. I am African-American.

My roots and ancestry clearly show, like most people, that there are a lot of other nationalities and ethnicities in play. My blue-eyed baby boy was a treat, but all of his pictures are colored with the brown crayola crayon. This lesson I learned on the playground has stayed with me for a lifetime.


I admire Halle Barry for knowing and articulating that she is a black woman, even though her mother is white. No debate here about her heritage and her pride, she is dealing with reality. A reality taught to her by her mother that when you look in the mirror and stand before the world itself you are Black. I still have to wonder if Angela Bassett would have gotten more work if the world was a different place. Scratch that. I know.

When my daughter at age 7 questions her beauty because she doesn't look like her class mates, its a renewed opportunity to help her appreciate her beauty and her characteristics, her culture and style, her individuality. She relates more to KeKe Palmer (Jump In, Akeelah and the Bee), than Hannah Montannah - but KeKe isn't quite getting the exposure of her counter parts. That process is enhanced when she can look at her family, friends, peers and others who are Black and beautiful. When we read her History books we often help tell the "rest of the story" to ensure that even in 3rd grade she has a firm understanding of our country and our culture. Jamestown was our first chapter in history this year, and we spend many days rewriting what the text book offered for fact. At all opportunities we look for the reality of our culture and our contributions to society.

Don't ask me why its important for her to know about Dr. Condi, Dr. Logan, Venus, Serena, Veronica Webb, Tyra Banks, Hazel Taylor (great granny doesn't have a web page - but she should), Avonia Harris, Soror Astronaut Mae Jemison, Rosa, Coretta, Sojourner, Maya, Oprah, Octavia, Angela Bassett, Michelle Obama - my future first lady, ME.....and the list continues. She has to be deeply connected to all of our images (some I like and some I appreciate less) so that she defines for herself true beauty. As we encounter growing pains and the opportunities to reinforce intelligence, grace, the arch of her back, and span of her hips ...... I'm glad it is happening now.

I pray she isn't quoted aspiring to something else as she's knocking at 3o's door. With all that she has been given, I pray she is confident about what she is and what she is not. She isn't in need of another culture, we've got enough work fully embracing, representing and upholding this one.