...

Bully (noun) use superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force him or her to do what one wants.

Racism (noun) the belief that all members of each race possess characteristics or abilities specific to that race, especially so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to another race or races. prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one's own race is superior.

So at work today my coworker downplayed racism as bullying. She said 

"bullying happens to everyone. It's just not right."

It came up because i mentioned a story of a friend of mine. He went out to eat with his children and someone called him a "fucking ch*nk"

she said that was bullying.

hence the definitions above.



Now...i'm no expert...not even close. 

but something just doesn't quite fit.




Another guy came in complaining that he got pulled over on the way to work. He didn't have proof of insurance on him. so he got away with a warning 

his complaint.

corworker "dammit...today had to be the day i wore my bob marley shirt." 

coworker 2 "yeah you should have worn a collar...you could have gotten off"




must be nice to live in a bubble

because black lives matter too....

Dear Sunny,

I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified. I remember sitting in the bathroom just staring at that little stick, that pink line that literally changed everything that I thought life meant. I remember the first time i heard your heartbeat. The first time you kicked me in the ribs. That moment i realized that my body was sheltering something amazing.

protecting you.

i remember when you were born. the look on your face when the doctor lifted you up to the world. your first smile, your first laugh. your first steps

the first time i realized how little power i had to protect you

i remember the news of the little black boy shot in the street. the video black girl tackled to the ground after a pool party. the non guilty verdict of the police officer who shot a girl sleeping on the couch at your grandmother's house..

and every story i hear i remember that moment...when the doctor lifted you out of me and i realized that i no longer have the ability to protect you...

that in this world. in this country...where you and i live and breathe...i have so little power in saving you from anything.

i remember the first time you scraped your knee. the first time you bit your tongue, the first time you came home asking me why your hear wasn't straight like your friends.

i remember the first time you realized that stranger were staring at you in the street. that women were only petting your hair. that while blonde girls were told how delicate they were you were told how strong you look.

i remember the first time i had to tell you that you were black...and so things were different. you would always be treated different. and that black was beautiful. the curls in your hair were magical. the strength in your bones was majestic. that you were smart and you had to show people how smart you were.

and i remember that first time - when you looked at me with tears in your eyes and asked me

"but, mommy. if i'm a better listener...if i show them i'm smart...can i not be black anymore"

i cried myself to sleep that night...

and the night you begged for straight hair

and when you pushed that girl away for touching your hair

and bit your tongue when someone told you you were chocolate and not vanilla


and the first time i told you that you had to shake it off...and stand up straight and know that you were magic and strong and life wasn't fair...

and held back more tears about how unfair it was...


that my sweet baby...was realizing that i wasn't strong...and i couldn't protect her...



and i'm sorry for that.

for the unfairness. and the fear in the eyes. and the rigidity of my spine. and the different expectations placed on you than everyone else...


all i'm ever trying to do is protect you.

because while other women worry about what college their children will get into. what home they'll eventually buy...

mine if just that you are one of the few that make it that far


success for me...in parenting...in life..


is you

just living it

and i'm sorry that it can't be more....

Just because we're magic doesn't mean we're not real

Now, this award - this is not for me. This is for the real organizers all over the country, the activists, the civil rights attorneys, the struggling parents, the families, the teachers, the students that are realizing that a system built to divide and impoverish and destroy us cannot stand if we do.

It's kind of basic mathematics - the more we learn about who we are and how we got here, the more we will mobilize.

Now, this is also in particular for the black women in particular who have spent their lifetimes dedicated to nurturing everyone before themselves. We can and will do better for you.

Now, what we've been doing is looking at the data and we know that police somehow manage to deescalate, disarm and not kill white people everyday. So what's going to happen is we are going to have equal rights and justice in our own country or we will restructure their function and ours.

Now... I got more y'all - yesterday would have been young Tamir Rice's 14th birthday so I don't want to hear anymore about how far we've come when paid public servants can pull a drive-by on 12 year old playing alone in the park in broad daylight, killing him on television and then going home to make a sandwich. Tell Rekia Boyd how it's so much better to live in 2012 than it is to live in 1612, or 1712. Tell that to Eric Garner. Tell that to Sandra Bland. Tell that to Darrien Hunt.

Now the thing is, though, all of us in here getting money - that alone isn't gonna stop this. Alright, now dedicating our lives, dedicating our lives to getting money just to give it right back for someone's brand on our body when we spent centuries praying with brands on our bodies, and now we pray to get paid for brands on our bodies.

There has been no war that we have not fought and died on the front lines of. There has been no job we haven't done. There is no tax they haven't levied against us - and we've paid all of them. But freedom is somehow always conditional here. "You're free," they keep telling us. But she would have been alive if she hadn't acted so... free.

Now, freedom is always coming in the hereafter, but you know what, though, the hereafter is a hustle. We want it now.

And let's get a couple things straight, just a little sidenote: the burden of the brutalized is not to comfort the bystander. That's not our job, alright; stop with all that. If you have a critique for the resistance, for our resistance, then you better have an established record of critique of our oppression. If you have no interest—if you have no interest in equal rights for black people, then do not make suggestions to those who do. Sit down.

We've been floating this country on credit for centuries, yo, and we're done watching and waiting while this invention called whiteness uses and abuses us, burying black people out of sight and out of mind while extracting our culture, our dollars, our entertainment like oil - black gold, ghettoizing and demeaning our creations then stealing them, gentrifying our genius and then trying us on like costumes before discarding our bodies like rinds of strange fruit. The thing is though... the thing is that just because we're magic doesn't mean we're not real.

Thank you.

yeah....no.

I have to admit there there are moments when I swear that my life is a sitcom...but this instance...well this instance I have NO IDEA who wrote the script.


Hi...sorry it's been so long. And since it's been so long - prepare yourself for a ridiculously gif heavy post - because sometimes...sometimes there just aren't the right words to describe how you feel.


So I haven't been updating....but trust me that I have been drafting a lot of updates - I just haven't been particularly motivated to post any of them.

none of the posts just seemed to come out right...until today...

I'm sure at some point I'll tell the many stories that have occurred in the 3 months since I moved to this little coastal po-dunk town...but in the meantime here are some of the highlights in gif form...

...but we'll get to all of that later...

So despite all of that this is the story for today. 

So Sunny's dad is...well...he's an X for a reason.  He pops up once in a while - he say monthly...but I'm assuming that time passes differently in neverland

Well it's that time of the month - and he texted asking what time would work for his occasional talks. I offered up Wednesday evening. 

That time didn't work for him. which was not the surprising bit. His reasoning being that he's busy being a new dad...

It was his additional response that really confused me. 

"Do you wanna facetime on your break 

so I can introduce you to [my daughter]

maybe it can help the transition to her meeting Sunny"

it took me a minute and i had to read it a few time...then my reason was a bit like this...

disbelief

confusion

shock

dismay

denial

and finally

acceptance

ok nvm - haven't gotten there yet...

I can honestly say that I never imagined being placed in this kind of situation. Being the x wife  - i honestly just figured I would never have to meet x's future children. Not in the since that I carry any ill will towards them - but rather that it's just not necessary.

and while this is rather obvious.....We're not friends. 

Like we don't hang out. We don't shoot the breeze. We are barely civil at this point. And even with that it's thin ice we're constantly crossing. So the invitation is misplaced in the assumption that we're at the point where we share such things with each other...

and on top of that...what exactly is there to say to his child...like what conversation is there to have there with an infant. 

He and I have nothing to talk about. So what am I to say to her...

and finally......what transition? Are we assuming this introduction is soon? When would this take place? When did we agree on that...?

and with that - who am I helping in this transition? how would me facetiming help us here...

so here I am...staring at a text message like its a viper in a box. There is no right response. 

There is no real response.

So i'm just going to tip toe around it....allow no answer to be answer enough...

and just put this right there and walk away...

how yoooou doin?

I moved last week.

We officially live on the coast.

I have to admit it's a bit of an adjustment. everything moves a bit slower here.

There's also the diversity thing...but eh...

i've gotten used to that at this point. 

We're still moving everything. I got rid of most of our furniture...long story...and off the two dressers than had survived the purge - one didn't make it down the stairs of the apartment...

So its mainly boxes... and most of those boxes are in the garage because it was raiing during moving day and after i christened the stairs

I decided to just handle them later. 

It was actually pretty funny in retrospect. I was running down the stairs and looked across the street. Made eye contact with someone crossing the road and 

I just kind of stayed there for a minute. like maybe they won't notice...or they'll be gone by the time I get up. lol

The new place is fantastic. It's about twice as large as out little apartment in the city. We're about 20 minutes from the beach. Right off of the high way...but I don't really consider it a highway if it has a stop light...

there have been two major crimes since i moved here. The jewelry store was robbed over the weekend and someone got held up on the highway. at 9pm...

the story goes that someone was driving home and realized that there was someone tailing them. so they pulled over to the side of the road. at which point the other car did as well and next thing you know there's a gum and knife out at them and they're demanding their phone and wallet.

now maybe i'm not used to small town living

and perhaps i've become a bit jaded and urban

but let someone tail me on a road and see if i'm going to pull over and STOP 

unless you are a police officer flashing your lights

and even then it better not be on a dark country road - because there are too many stories of brown people not making it back to the highway after that

but then they sat their long enough for the other people to not only stop but to exit their vehicle.

So...i guess the city is intruding on this little rural village

i probably should be more worried...but 9pm car jacking...they weren't committed to that crime. 

psh the sun has barely set at 9pm

I called Rosie and laughed about this one...we couldn't relate to the poor people who didn't realize what they got into.

disclaimer - its not ok for anyone to be robbed. 

but that being said...don't put yourself in a position where something could happen. like did you think the car that was trying to run you off the road wanted to stop and chat about speed limits?

it's like when someone is hollering at you from their car - do they expect you to be like 

i'm probably going to get to the point where I'm as shocked as the locals are about things like this. 

i'll give myself a few months to adjust

because laughing is obviously the wrong reaction 

but all in all the move has been a good one. New school. No commute. More time to just sit and be...

I'm happy. 

                                          like actually happy....

                                                                                  and that's nice for once. 

At least Moira has wavy hair

I have no problem talking about race...which is probably a strange thing living in the US. Well probably not for a person of color in the US...but alas that's kind of the point.

i don't shy away from the discussions. and really until i moved to the west coast i never really thought about it. probably growing up in a more diverse environment made it less necessary to discuss things that were more obvious. Since having Sunny I've really started noticing some things.

For example - Sunny's dad is half black and half central american. For our entire relationship I  just thought of him as black. (the whole American one drop rule, etc.) but once i was pregnant suddenly there was a big distinction between black and everything else. I started hearing stories..

about how "dark and ugly" he was at birth.

              Or a Puerto Rican man who realized who realized his wife had "bad hair" on their honeymoon when she came out of the ocean...

                            or if i went to Portugal I wouldn't be black. i'd be colored and that'd better...

                                               or that i should pray that my children had hair like his family

and after Sunny was born how they would examine her on each visit - strip her down and examine every inch of her to try to determine if her color would change...

well...I'm kind of passive aggressive...just a tad anyway...

So i chopped my relaxed hair off and went natural. I dressed Solana in a watermelon dress when she first met her great grandmother. and demanded how she could have two black parents but some how she everyone declared her to be central american instead...

When I approached X about it. His response was - 

well she looks black...so she's black. 

As if we were to have another who looked less black they could fit into another category...

then i moved here...where there are no black people at all...and realized that everything i went through was just a prequel.

Not that the west coast is like racist...its just kind of...


                               ignorant?        passively ignorant?      colorblind (what does that mean anyway)

I feel like that's too harsh a word. But it's like when my mom tells a story about one of her fellow teachers who puts halloween pictures on facebook of her in black face as a 'babymama' and then doesn't want to hear about how offensive that is...and she refers to them as "being silly"

but maybe "being silly" is just a nicer way of saying "blatantly ignorant"

Either way...I'm getting more and more used to being the only black person in the room. Or the town...or the city...


I haven't quite gotten used to Sunny being the only one though...


Now when I'm looking for schools or classes or activities i look first for diversity. And i'm not that picky. I would be ok with curly hair at this point.

oh how the mighty have fallen.

I went from demanding justice and equality and inclusion...

and now i'm like "eh...Moira's red hair is wavy...that'll do.."

all because of when she was 2 she came home crying over not having hair like her blonde classmates and having to explain our hair is different...

that christmas she got

and then since we started we also got:

etc...

so anywhoo...the reason for this post...

so we're switching schools since we're moving. Its kind of the ideal time since most of her classmates are going to kindergarten in a few months so everyone will be going in different direction anyway. And because of that parents are all looking for schools. We're in an area where you can petition for different districts, apply for charter schools, join churches to get into private schools, etc....Well some parents and teachers and I had started talking about schools in the area. 

Of course i look for schools with high college attrition, great extra curricular, before and after care, and diversity. A friend of mine looks for religion. It makes sense, he's a minister. Our children go to school together and skate together and so we spend a lot of time discussing parenting and culture and america as a whole. 

He's Canadian - and while he's been in America for ten years he has these moments where he doesn't understand how backwards things are. Like he couldn't understand why everyone was so afraid to discuss race. Why there were such clear distinction between people because of skin color. 

And when I told him about my search for diversity in Sunny's schools - he couldn't understand why I was putting myself "in a box"

he said that it was like I was trying to separate myself. that I was going around and searching for little pockets of races in communities instead of just letting her go to school wherever regardless of how other children looked

and we had one of our many conversations, this time in the middle of a daycare playroom, about race, and history, and instilling confidence in a child that doesn't look like anyone else...

We discussed how excited Sunny was the first time she saw a student who looked like her. How she cried about her hair being different. About how everyone (including teachers) claim they're colorblind one second and then mention how dangerous someone looks or how some students act a certain way because of their culture - and 

how hard it is to instill this belief that you're beautiful, and different, and wonderful, 

and 

don't let anyone else tell you differently

              and 

show that you're smart because people won't believe it unless you show them

                                         and 

You have to be twice as good as everyone else

                                                              and 

I know it's not fair, but life isn't fair

                                                                                 and

well i never told him about the time when Sunny asked me "well mommy, if i listen really well and do everything right, can i not be black anymore..." 

i thought that was a too soon. hell, that was too soon for me.

But, my friend, he looked at me and said,

"wow...you know I never thought about it. Like There's never a moment when my daughter doesn't have someone who looks like her school so I just never considered it.."

this was when her teacher popped up with that "i don't even see color" nonsense...

and I had to respond with.."well you've never had to...and before I moved here I didn't either. But just like you look for religion in your school because you can't always find it...i look for familiar faces in mine...

because then if someone isn't acting right and they get disciplined I won't have to wonder if it's because of their skin color. Or if Sunny comes home saying someone wasn't nice, I won't have to think it has to be race related...because then when somone asks her about her hair, or her skin, or who she looks like, i don't have to worry about her crying...

and well...that's America"

and it's not always fair. 

Well it rarely is...

but most life lessons aren't. 

so I tried to explain everything in a way that would be perceived as angry...because being black and assertive always ends of being considered angry and aggressive. 

but...I dunno...

moving on up...

I was in no way a teen mom...but there were moments where i could understand how they felt. I was a single mom by the time i was 25...probably earlier than that. probably on day 2 when X decided that the hospital bed was too uncomfortable and left to take a nap and didn't come back for 8 hours.

I haven't had a lot of time being the parent I always wanted to be...

mainly because i've been working so hard to be the parent my daughter needed me to be.

I'm hoping that those two merge one day...


I'm moving next month.

I'm moving to a small town. Like so small there's no Target (first world problems...I know...)

walking distance from everything really. Less than a mile from school. 3 blocks from work.

I'm hoping that will give me more time to just...live.