The Good, Racist People

Last week, Lester and I read a commentary by one of our favorite columnists, Ta-Nehisi Coates, and talked a lot about it. It's called The Good, Racist People.

We loved the writing and many of the ideas in it provided fodder for lots of fun and healthy debate.
Lester thought the whole thing was a tempest in a town deli, and that Coates -- who is usually very fine-tuned in his reactions to things -- was overreacting to this particular incident. I agreed. You might recall from an earlier post that I have been feeling compelled lately to offer up more forgiveness than fury when it comes to small slights or race-related injuries, because I know that people have a lot of baggage around race and class that is tremendously difficult to overcome -- even for really well-meaning people.

But then something happened on Saturday and now I feel like I have been catapulted back to square one: Anger, sadness and worry for my kids.

To sum up the story: Dean got into the cold medicine first thing Saturday morning (this is also a potty-training story, but I'll save that for another time). I called Poison Control and the rep said based on our estimation of how much he drank, we needed to take Dean to our nearest emergency room. I asked if we could take him to our preferred hospital -- which is in a better neighborhood -- but she insisted the danger was high enough that we had to go to the closer hospital in the city.

At the registration area, techs and nurses swarmed around us trying to get us checked in as quickly as possible. A very friendly technician, who appeared Asian to me, chatted Dean up while he took his temp and blood pressure. Dean was a little bit drunk I think and was even more talkative than normal. The tech - impressed by all his toddler talking - said to me: "Hey, you might have a future rapper on your hands!"

Immediately, and without thought, my entire body heated. I was sooooo angry. A rapper? You are freaking. kidding. me.

So you see this...

 And you think THIS?

I quickly said to him, with as much measure as I could muster, "No. I was thinking maybe a future lawyer," but in my head I was thinking, "You would never, ever, ever have said that to a talkative non-black child -- even if that child was actually rapping."

I had to tend to Dean, who was frightened and not feeling all that great, so I pushed that stupid tech to the back of my mind. But as the long morning wore on, what he said just kept coming back to me again and again and again.

I have to admit that it stung. It did.

I suppose I am naive, but I keep believing that if only I can educate myself enough, and keep my kids smart, polite, neat and well-spoken enough, if I can live in the right neighborhoods and send them to the right schools, that people will look at them and see them for what they are: bright, beautiful and promise-filled.

Not criminals. Or stupid. Or scary. But valuable. Worthy. Just like them.

I keep thinking people will see their potential, and not relegate them to being basketball stars or rappers. RAPPERS. Ugh. That one just burns me up.

I wrote about this weight I carry to shield them from the world's prejudices and stereotyping here and here.

But I honestly thought I had until they were bigger, with their hoodies on as they walked through the neighborhood (Hello, Trayvon Martin)-- before I would really have to contend with this kind of kick to the gut.

I put all this down here because one day I will have to talk to my children about this country's history and what that means about how they are likely to be perceived by others. And I hope some of my friends will do the same.

Because like Ta-Nehisi said in that column I referenced earlier, "The idea that racism lives in the heart of particularly evil individuals, as opposed to the heart of a democratic society, is reinforcing to anyone who might, from time to time, find their tongue sprinting ahead of their discretion."

*P.S. Dean is absolutely fine and only had to stay at the hospital for monitoring. He even got a little tow truck from the ER doctor and now Cary wishes he had chugged cold medicine too.

See? He was fine even before we left the hospital.

We have moved all the medicines to a higher shelf. :-)

Reading and thinking today and everyday

Here's what I'm reading and contemplating today:

1. Get Off Your Cloud, Marissa!

The New York Times' Maureen Dowd -- who sometimes nails it and sometimes miserably fails it -- published a thought-provoking piece today about the new Yahoo CEO Marissa Meyer, who took a 2-week (!!) maternity leave, built a nursery next to her office, and has now forbidden all employees from ever "working from home." Dowd's column has me thinking a lot about being a working Mom and a woman in the workforce and someone who is constantly recalibrating every aspect of life, trying to maintain some semblance of balance.

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/27/opinion/dowd-get-off-your-cloud.html?hp&_r=0

 2. We Need to Stop Faking it on Facebook

This blogger's take on "Fakebooking" resonated with me, as I realized that 1) I sometimes am annoyed when friends make it seem like having kids is a daylong shower of sunshine and chocolate bunnies, and 2) I am guilty of doing this as well, and 3) I sometimes use Facebook to remind myself that life ain't perfect, but it's pretty damn good.

Here's what I wrote on Facebook about it:
Seriously, sometimes I post the really good stuff to remind MYSELF that my life is really good. Because I can get in moods where I'm like, "My house is a wreck; there's laundry everywhere; potty training BITES; I look 5-months pregnant a year after giving birth; my kingdom for 6 hours of solid sleep a night; what's this thing people keep talking about called a "vacation?"; where's all my MONEY I was supposed to be making by now??? And dammit, if I see another chicken nugget, I'm going to cry!" So I'll look at photos of my crazy cute kids and post it up all pretty and Instagrammed and someone will say, "Hey Tanika, your kids are super cute!" and I do feel better. I can't lie. I do. I remember that I love my kids and my life, just because someone hit "Like" and took the time to comment. Is that pathetic? Maybe so. But it's better than taking up a nightly Scotch habit.

And then, in response to a later comment:

I agree, Sarah. Most of our friends are good at balancing the humorous, the self-deprecating and the ain't-life-grand posts. But there are times when the best parts of my day win out over the worst. I could have posted, for example, the long list of poop-related things that happened last night to me (none of which were pretty) with the status message, "Boy, what a shitty night I've had. Literally." That would have been funny, I guess. But instead, I chose to post the video of Clair walking, which made me feel much better about my shitty night. It's a form of self-censoring, and also a form of Facebook-as-therapy. Nothing wrong with it, I don't think. So long as there's balance.

http://www.kveller.com/blog/parenting/we-need-to-quit-telling-lies-on-facebook/

3.  Life is short. Live it -- really live it -- now, not later. Because later may never come.

Mary Corey was the Features editor at The Baltimore Sun when I worked a brief stint as fashion writer. I admired her very much for her dignity and grace, which seemed to be from another time. But I admit to feeling like her life seemed very lonely. She died yesterday -- at 49 years old, just 10 years older than me. She had her journalism career (which is impressive, no doubt) and her dog. And that's it. I don't want to seem disparaging at all to her, please don't get me wrong. But her death has left me sadder than I thought it would, and I think it's because it reminds me what is really important in life. And I know I can sometimes lose sight of that in my quest to do more, be more, have more. Mary's death is a billboard -- in my opinion -- for the fact that loving is living. And loving well is living well.

http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/obituaries/bs-md-corey-obituary-20130226,0,600276.story

4. Overcoming a Racist Past in Baltimore

Having grown up in very diverse communities, I forget sometimes that for most people life wasn't always this multi-cultural, this tolerant, this Benetton ad personified.

This commentary in today's Sun was amazingly self-reflective and enlightening to me. Being a part of the "minority" population, one of the "aggrieved," it has always seemed like a no-brainer to me that people should be treated equally, not stereotyped or discriminated against or despised. But reading this writer's very honest reflection on his childhood illuminates for me the incredible work that has to be done for even well-meaning folks to overcome the baggage they've been spoonfed most of their lives --from society, from popular culture, from their own neighborhoods and families.
It reminds me even more that patience, grace and forgiveness are key to achieving the kind of fair society we all say we want to have.

http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/opinion/oped/bs-ed-racist-past-20130225,0,1981054.story



So what do you all think of these articles and their themes?

MLK/President Obama Day reflections

In honor of my homeboy Martin Luther the King, whose birthday is celebrated today -- and my other homeboy, Barack Obama the President, whose second term in office is ushered in today -- I spent some time this morning reflecting on my ancestors and elders, the people whose lives made it possible for me to live the privileged life I do today.

Living in a place like Baltimore, it's easy to forget that, in my grandparents' lifetimes, there were segregated schools and prohibitions on interracial marriage and discriminatory laws that kept black people from buying homes or seeking education in certain colleges or earning as much as their non-black peers. Black people were systematically held back, hazed, hated and even killed.

But so many good people recognized this injustice and instead of just tut-tutting about it with sympathetic others, they withstood hatred and danger and ostracizing to FIGHT to make sure that things would change. I thank those fighters with all my heart.

Some people helped the cause of equality by quietly going about the business of living their lives, with dignity and determination, shoulders squared for the hatred and the obstacles that thwarted them daily. They are the doers. I like to think that many in my own family -- grandparents and great-grandparents and Aunties and Uncles I never met -- are among that group. I hope somehow they know how much I thank, and love, them too.

It is amazing to think that we have come so far in such a relatively short period of time. What a poetic coincidence that President Obama will serve a second term in office, beginning on the day we observe the birthday of Dr. King. 

But today I want to thank all of the heroes (as I should every day). Not just the big names, and not just the fighters, but the everyday doers, too, for paving the way for me and my family. Their insistence (in both big and small ways) that the world recognize their humanity means that I don't have to fight quite as hard. I don't have to do quite as much.

I can just be.


Thank you to all those who lives and deaths provide me with that comfortable existence, that ability to just be. Considering what their lives were like, that feels to me like a supreme privilege. Thank God they knew that it was, in fact, a right.

Giving your kids the best you can, Part 2

Lester and I both want the best for our boys. We see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but on that shared value, we see whole-body to whole-body.

Unfortunately, on our salaries and in this old, underfunded, segregated city, "the best" -- when it comes to education -- quite often means "private." And "private" quite often means "majority white."

Lester and I are both people who pretty much grew up in majority-black cities, schools and environments.

But both of us were able to break out of the clannishness that kind of upbringing fosters to become great friends with people of all races and backgrounds. I absolutely adore my colorful plethora of friends. I love it that it doesn't matter to us what color someone is, or what religion or from what tax-bracket: We all love one another and accept one another and celebrate our differences and our commonalities. Many times, when we're hanging out with a big group of our friends, I think: "This is what the world should be like."

But, unfortunately, it is not. In fact, the world is far from what our circle of friends is like.

And so, we worry when we think that, in order to give Cary, Dean and Clair the very best education and experiences, we might also be ordering up for them a lifetime of isolation, discrimination, forced assimilation or feelings of inadequacy.

I know this can happen, because it happened to me. I wrote this article years ago on the anniversary of the historic Brown vs. Board of Education court case, which ordered the desegregation of schools. In it, I describe how being a part of a desegregation order myself changed my life for the better but still left behind in me feelings of inadequacy.

I wouldn't change the experience, not for a minute; I believe it helped shape who I am today. But I worry so much about my kids having to go through life trying hard to fit in, and feeling "less-than" if they don't. That's just one small advantage of growing up in a majority black environment. At least we know they wouldn't feel so "other." But, sadly, that's not enough of a reason to choose the childhood Lester and I experienced over the much more multi-cultural one we are trying to create now.

When President Barack Obama was elected, Lester and I hugged each other hard and cried. This historic election meant so much for us, for our families, for the children we would eventually have together. But we knew it wouldn't mean a true "post-racial" society, as some have suggested. We doubt such a thing will ever happen -- at least not in our lifetime. But for our children's sake, my goodness how we wish it were so! How we pray every day for our children to be recognized the world over as just as valuable, just as worthy, just as smart, just as beautiful.

That's why it hurts so much when a teenaged boy -- the same color as my boys -- gets shot and killed in a gated community for the crime of "looking suspicious."

That's why it stings when people say they won't go see a movie because a beautiful black girl -- with brown skin like my daughter -- was cast as a beloved character.

It shows that no matter who the President is, no matter where we live, no matter what schools we send them to, no matter how well we teach them to behave, speak well, work hard, love people, be respectful, stay out of trouble and honor God, their families and themselves -- no matter WHAT we do to prepare and protect them -- someone out there will see our wonderful, curious, delightful, sweet, hilarious babies and think "criminal," "scary," "untrustworthy," "value-less," "stupid," "ghetto," "ugly," "target."

So what do we do?

Our parents' way of handling things was to keep us -- for the most part -- sequestered in majority black communities. Even today, our families interact with folks from other races very, very little. It's a self-segregation for protection's sake. Though I understand it's origins, it's sad, I think. And limiting.

And it also is NOT who Lester and I are. It's not who we want our kids to be. I would abhor a life lived in such a monotone.

So we will do the best we can to give them the best we can -- in terms of education and socialization, community and character, values and principles, faith, finances, family and friends. And we will do the delicate dance many black parents before us have done, letting them know the unfortunate truth that there are people out there who will see them only for the color of their skin -- and make negative assumptions about them because of it. But also that many, many more people will accept, celebrate and love them neither because of nor despite it. Like the friends of ours they will come to know, those people will love them just for who they are.

We hope they will be aware of prejudice, discrimination, racism, bigotry, fear and ignorance, but not be stymied, crippled or in any way hindered by it. We pray they will shine and succeed in spite of it. We hope they will love the skin they're in, their hair, their noses, their far-from-privileged ancestry. We pray they will create for themselves a life full of beautiful people of all races, backgrounds, religions and cultures.

If Cary, Dean and Clair do that -- and God-willing, they will -- we will know that we have done for them the very, very best that we could do.