Crazy Baldheads.

For The Next Five Minutes.

I yoga'd last Saturday morning.  At the end of the class, the yoga instructor said:  Lay down, close your eyes.  Relax every part of your body.  For the next five minutes all of your needs will be met.

That last statement really struck me and resonated long thereafter.

How often in life are we told:  For the next X amount of minutes / hours / days / weeks / months / for the next year, ALL of your needs will be met?  Stated with conviction its a precision eliminator for 90% of preoccupations.  Sure, we may still worry about whether our loved ones' needs are met, but afterall their needs are an extension of our needs in a way at least.

I need to say that to my five year old.  For the next 5 minutes et al, all your needs will be met.  I don't know that he will understand it yet though, as I'm not sure he grasps the concept of what his needs truly are.  He conflates his needs with acquiring the next pricey Transformer Rescue Bot toy from a retail store whimsical desires.

Also, I found some joy in a little, teensy something I accomplished.  You know that axiom about honey attracting?  My son is in kindergarten now.  Last year he was in preschool.  While in preschool, he had this teacher/school helper that was from Uganda.  Her son was also in preschool.  My son adored her son.  She, however, was quite cold to approach.  I projected my paranoia onto her and decided she did not much like non-Black people or had a distaste for our non-trad family dynamic.  That did not deter me from inviting her family over for a play date last year even though up to that point she had pretty much refused to even hold a conversation with me or reciprocate my smile.  She accepted my invite, however, and the day they came over I made some tasty chicken salad and some fresh heirloom salsa, bought fresh kaiser rolls and blue corn tortilla chips.  Our sons had a blast together that day.  Which resulted in me winning her over.  I'm not always a champion at killing with kindness, but I have my moments.  We haven't seen them much since that day due to a busy summer and loads of transitions.  But in the interim she searched for me (as I had changed my phone number).  Finally, I talked to her yesterday and she invited us over same day!  We couldn't go, but we made plans to see each other in a few weeks.  Yeah!

Tumbling Down the Hourglass.

Life is teaching me intimately about patience.  One current runs through the variant aspects of my circumstances: an unrelenting cosmic plea for me to have patience.

In the state I live in a married couple must be physically separated for one whole year before either individual can legally file a petition for absolute divorce.  365 days must pass before either individual can commence the legal process toward formal absolution of all.  This requirement is thematically antithetical to the progressive nature of the majority of state policies.  Without urgent, dire grounds there is no circumventing.  What happens in that year's time is a story unto itself, one I am living out in the short, crisp days and the hopelessly long, blue ones that comprise 365.

As I sit here at my work computer, I am desperately awaiting an email from a potential employer regarding a rumored interview I will have in the week to come for a job that would be relatively amazing.  Torturous waiting.  It's a job I would bludgeon a dozen kittens and eat a few rodents to have.

One must have patience particularly with significant others with whom crucial relationships exist and evolve.  When can my ex and I be friends again without all the heavy sadness forming a big, creepy, disdainful blob in between us?  Unshackled from the bonds of marriage, will we see that time eroded the thick layers of hurt and unveiled the authentic friendship that convention once buried?  God I hope so.

When can I truly understand what my now-lover wants from me and is willing to provide me?  When will he?

How long will it take me to save enough money to travel with my son to Ethiopia again?

How long will I have to force myself to do artwork, notwithstanding inspiration, until I feel prolific enough?

Why does a language take so long to learn?

The day I pay off the rest of my credit card debt will be a day of ecstatic rejoicing.

One day.  With hope and faith.

Albert Einstein said that time is an illusion.

Meanwhile, I'm okay today.  I am healthy, I see the world, I love and am loved.

Just Send a Hug.

Sometimes when you are having a hard time, its nice to get an email from a clever friend:

Hi Cee,

"Nation Currently More Sympathetic To Demise Of Planet Krypton Than Plight of Syria"  - you can guess what I was just reading.  I wish people would lay off Obama; it's an impossible situation.

 

I need a break from constantly scanning job descriptions so what can I say.  How is it going?  I wish we could have had more time together when you were up here.  I cannot get over what a little man your son is becoming.  I got my first paycheck last week, and I will be working at least 3 full days this week (while continuing to look for full-time work) so I'm going to save my money and come down and see you guys.  I want to meet the cat and see your new place. 

 

Not much new here.  I am glad for the advent (wishful thinking, maybe) of fall.  I am really awfully tired of sweating.  Georgie and Ned are still in Maine - they drive home Saturday.  Apparently, miracle of miracles, the baby peacocks are doing well - only lost one so far, which is highly unusual.  How's the job?  I think of you often and hope that it's getting easier for you.  I am having weekly therapy sessions with a crazy man, but he's smart so I like to hear what he says.  A former extremely violent criminal and diagnosed sociopath (see, you like him already, don't you?) who I hope will help me untangle the knots in my brain. 

 

Spent a lot of time on trains the last week or so, so I am reading a lot.  Just finished "The Last Picture Show" by Larry McMurtry.  Kind of carries you along despite being depressing and somewhat grotesque, but that's sort of how he writes.  And I read "A Farewell To Arms" by Ernest Hemingway.  It was okay, but didn't move me like some of his other stuff.  Also read a thriller by some right-wing writer where the Navy SEALs make the world safe for America's continuing oil supply.  You can imagine.

 

Anyway, just wanted to say hi and send a hug.

The Savior Industry.

On June 11, 2010 at 5:45 am, I received an email that some big honcho from the adoption agency (one of the big ones) that I employed to assist with the adoption of my son sent out.   The mass email read:


Over 143,000,000 orphans around the world struggle to survive every day. As a leader in international adoption, Agency has witnessed the struggle of individual children. Viewed collectively, the struggle becomes a silent, worldwide crisis. Agency is now beginning to work with like-minded organizations to give these orphans a voice and say to the world: THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. 
 
Together we are developing a plan to 1) reduce the orphan population, and 2) improve orphan care, consistent with Agency's mission of Creating Brighter Futures around the World by finding permanent families for children and caring for the children left behind. Our plan involves building coalitions with other adoption agencies, legislators and policy-makers, the academic community, churches and synagogues, UN and NGOs, as well as religious, community and government leaders overseas. And it involves YOU. You can become the orphan's voice.
 
Consider the combined network of these like-minded organizations - hundreds of thousands of families. In this age of social media, that's quite a start in an effort to communicate a compelling message. In order to broaden the ownership of this undertaking to include each of you, we will provide periodic updates as to our progress in collaboratively confronting the world's orphan crisis, including occasional calls to action.
 
There is an awakening in this country to the plight of the orphan and a drumbeat of concern to take up their cause and not turn a deaf ear to their cry any longer. With your involvement, we can relegate the word "orphan" to the history books. Maybe not in our lifetime, but we can plant the seeds today. 

On June 10, 2010 at 9:15 am, I replied to this big honcho with the following:


Dear Mr. G,
 
As the mother of an Ethiopian adoptive son, I am very intrigued to have received this email from Agency.  The mention that Agency will be engaged in coalition building with legislators and policy-makers in particular to reduce the world orphan population is especially interesting to me.  In the vein of working with legislators and policy-makers, I wonder if Agency has plans to lobby Congress, directly or indirectly, to reintroduce federal foreign-policy legislation promoting democracy in countries that have questionable political structures or regimes that influence or bear on the orphan crisis there (as in at the best the way those regimes function maintains the orphan crisis status quo or it worsens it), in a country like Ethiopia for instance.  
 
Examples of the legislation, which died and never became law, I refer to are, specifically:
 
The Ethiopia Democracy and Accountability Act

http://www.govtrack.us/congress/billtext.xpd?bill=h110-2003 
 
and
 
The Ethiopia Freedom, Democracy and Human Rights Advancement Act
 
http://www.govtrack.us/congress/billtext.xpd?bill=h110-2228

Ethiopia is a beautiful country, with a fascinating history and exquisite culture.  Unfortunately, however, the citizens of Ethiopia toil and struggle beneath a totalitarian and oppressive regime, that which virtually reinstated itself by means of a sham national election on May 23, 2010, indicating to the world it has no desire to entertain the idea of relinquishing its power.
 
http://nazret.com/blog/index.php?title=obama_administration_snubs_ethiopia_over&more=1&c=1&tb=1&pb=1
 
On January 6, 2010 the Ethiopian Parliament, no doubt at the behest of the immoveable Ethiopian Prime Minister Meles Zenawi, passed a law entitled the Proclamation of Charities Act which limits the financing allowed to non-governmental organizations with civil and social justice objectives.  
 
Though the Zenawi government touts statistics that indicate it has improved Ethiopia's economy in the past several years, it is increasingly hostile towards democratic efforts in Ethiopia, or downright rapidly snuffing democracy out.  One example of this is the imprisonment of democratic political group opposition leaders such as Birtukan Mideksa.
 
http://www.amnesty.org/en/individuals-at-risk/write-for-rights/birtukan-mideksa
 
Amnesty International reported that at the end of 2009, Ethiopia remained one of the world's poorest countries with some 6.4 million people suffering acute food insecurity.  Without a democratic government system, the citizens of Ethiopia will increasingly wrestle and meet with extreme difficulty to change important things that will have positive economic repercussions in their lives, and that of future generations, such as changing or at least improving upon agricultural practices and being able to vote for representatives who instead of thwarting efforts towards civil and social justice will welcome and build upon those efforts.  Upward mobility for most families is going to become impossible whereas it is obviously already incredibly challenging, if not impossible.  When families are poor and cannot feed their children, their children can and do become orphans.
 
I hope that lobbying for foreign-policy legislation that could have an effect on minimizing the number of orphans in the world is what Agency means, at least in part, by collaborating with, or building a coalition with, legislators and policy-makers in efforts to reduce global orphan numbers.
 
Any response to this email is sincerely welcomed. I also look forward the periodic updates on the efforts described below in Agency's email.



On June 16, 2010 at 6:29 pm, I received the following response:

Many thanks for your response. I’ll be honest with you on two fronts. One is that we are in the infancy in terms of developing our strategy to take a comprehensive, integrated approach to addressing this massive problem. So, I can’t exactly tell you what our coalition-building efforts with legislators and policy-makers will look like. Secondly, my gut was that it would be focused on legislation like the Families for Orphans Act. I had not thought in terms of federal foreign policy legislation. But that’s part of why I sent the email – to get responses from people like yourself who have thought about things that I haven’t !

I will be in the nation's capitol twice in the next month and will be trying to move the needle a bit.

Thanks again for weighing in with your comments.

_________________________________________________________

I stumbled upon this exchange the other day, the printed version, which I'd kept in a box chock full of adoption / transracial /country news/conditions documentation that I've been intermittently accumulating over the years.

With its initial announcement email, the agency just seemed so damn passionate in its conviction to tackle the lamentable matter of world orphans from a holistic approach.  So passionate, notwithstanding the infancy of its program, that it completely glossed over foreign policy!  (in spite of the actual mention of "policy-makers")

Mind you, this is the exact same agency whose chief development officer, in attendance at an adoption agency family event, once announced that the agency was looking into new "markets".  This he said in reference to the agency establishing a relationship with new countries so peeps from the U.S. could adopt those countries' kids.  I swear to God.  I witnessed the (White) man issue these very words from his very mouth with my very own eyeballs and heard the words with my very own bloody ears. 

I should really email this big honcho guy to see how far their as-of-then unrefined tactical amalgamation has come.

I think I will.

Afterall, the agency has had three years to strategically move forward on its flowery-languaged mission.  In three years passage of time, Meles Zenawi has croaked, Birtukan Mideksa miraculously was released from prison while Eskinder Nega was tossed in, Prime Minister Desalegn took the wheel and has continued Zenawi's legacy of democricide, and, most recently, everyday law-abiding Muslims are suffering religious repression, disenfranchisement, as well as being harassed, attacked, killed, and accused of terrorism.  Meanwhile, the United States maintains its geopolitical BFF status with Ethiopia and continues to dump a whopping approximately 800 million dollars a year into the country*.

*Some of that is used for HIV initiatives, with which I do not take issue in isolated terms.

A Bus and a Bible.

This morning I took public transportation to work.  On the bus I sat next to a Black guy with thick, shoulder-length dreadlocks.  He had a cap on backwards.  I sat next to him on purpose.  After I sat down, I saw that he was reading a Bible.

Guarded.

Trayvon Martin's tragic death makes me feel a sick resignation and a nauseating sense of hopelessness. Just seems that every day a disgusting new, but old, injustice is being perpetrated within or outside of this country relative to our collective "justice" aims (.e.g the racist, so-called "war on terror").  And with the exception of a few golden pals, I can't even be bothered much with getting into conversations with White people around me about any of this shit. 

I'm a Latina by self-identification. By blood heritage, I'm Cherokee Indian, Apache-Mexican Indian, and Dutch. By social construct, half of my family is Mexican/Hispanic/Latino, the other half is White/Caucasian. I was raised by an educated White father and him alone. Up until I moved to Pennsylvania (in 11th grade), I went to highly diverse schools - in fact, schools where I believe minorities were actually the majority. I went to school with a lot of Black people and have some good friends that are Black with whom I have talked about race. Even so, I find that since I've become a Mom to a Black son I have been so focused on race in the past 4 years such that I've undergone a psychological evolution, a veritable psychological makeover. You can't really truly step outside of a privileged bubble, but the lens through which you see the world can change in refraction such that your view encompasses a more dynamic, detailed perspective. Where I am now at, in my social perspective, was largely incidental to the research and education I undertook learning how to try to be the best transracial adoptive Mom I could be. 

In a blog post a while back (on September 23, 2011), I wrote something like the following: I remember a time I didn't wake up every morning and see racism everywhere - why? because I was a privileged asshole that didn't have to see it, that's why. I'm still privileged, just hopefully less of an asshole. Most White people inexcusably don't get it - entrenched, systemic racism - because 1.) they don't experience it, 2.) they aren't educated about it and 3.) they have no compelling reason, generally, to recognize it. (Yes, I know racism and/or discrimination can come from anybody and be directed towards anyone for any number reasons. But let's get real and not-irrationally simplify, White people, as an isolated demographic subset (less specific than say female White people or gay White men), enjoy the most privilege in this country and have the least incentive to recognize and thus oppose racism. Since generally White people don't have any reason to see racism, it's easy enough for them to deny its existence. Add to that that too many White peeps don't want to see racism. 

I had a reason to put on a new pair of glasses: My son. And when that transition happened, when seeing racism became a matter of undeniable, stark relief, at which definitive point I couldn't begin to determine exactly, there was no going back. These days, I assume most people are racist, or at least race ignorant, until I glean evidence to the contrary. As opposed to waiting for evidence that someone is racist and trusting at the outset that they are not only to be shocked and dismayed to find out they are and only to have to do damage control to my son's self-esteem after finding out.  Which is why I guess I can say I've reached a point where hanging around groups of White people, given the likelihood of their racism / race ignorance, doesn't much appeal to me. Also, because I don't want to get in those conversations, its absolutely exasperating. Can you imagine how Black people must feel? They don't want to have to walk around their whole lives always educating "other" people about racism, its a huge burden. Not that they have a choice necessarily.  But if I were Black, I'd live in a Black enclave to minimize this grave, unjust annoyance. 

Mostly I hang out with people who get it.  The White friends I have are smart people who do or can recognize privilege disparity, who know something about systemic racism, who don't utter ignorant comments based on people's skin color or cultural heritage. I wouldn't have it any other way. Literally. If you are a racist, no thanks. In a perfect world I'd have the time to try to deconstruct would-be-close friends' privileged upbringing or rehabilitate their impoverished views, but I don't have the time and increasingly I don't have the desire. I just want to hang around people who don't pose a threat of stupidity around my son. And that's where I begin to justify not trying to "educate" my White friends on Facebook or elsewhere. Armchair activism is only so good anyway. We can all sit behind a key board and pontificate. Also, I don't even think I have White friends on Facebook or elsewhere that need educating because I've pretty much systematically eliminated those kinds of people from my life overall. 

I know, I sound like an elitist asshole. Oh well.  Here's the deal: As far as my personal aims, there is the concomitant larger objective of trying to make the world a better, more equitable place for everyone. And then there is the most important thing to me, raising my son in a way that I hope will drastically minimize identity-trauma. Yes, racism is out there. Yes, I've already begun talking to him about it. Yes, as a Black boy/man he will be faced with it and will need coping and survival skills. But I don't want to needlessly expose him to stupidity and racism.  While I will and do engage in social justice activities, I'm a Mom to a 4 year old and I work full time.  So mainly I focus on my son.

Think about this as a paradigm: Everyone and anyone can be racist. White people have historically been oppressors, segregators/segregationists and racists. Thus, White people are more likely to be actively racist than other groups of people or to be as actively racist as the most racist people out there. 

The more exposure a Black person has to White people, the more likely that Black person will experience racism. A Black kid that grows up with a non-Black parent will be exposed to more White people than a Black kid that grows up with Black parents.  Ergo, a Black kid that grows up with a non-Black parent will likely be exposed to more racism than a Black kid that grows up with Black parents.  [You can characterize this differently or look at it from a less linear perspective.  And you can extrapolate from it many things, such as:  The racism to which a Black kid that grows up with a non-Black parent is exposed to is artificially over-inflated. Artificially because the family itself is a product not of natural blood-lineage.  It is a family constructed by society, not by biology.]

So, I want to minimize my son's relative overexposure to racism that results from the fact that I am not a Black parent.  So I want to minimize his exposure to White people.

I don't want to be around a lot of White people.   With some or many of whom, undoubtedly, I would have to get into heated arguments about Trayvon Martin's death. I have actually not even been tempted to get into any argument with anyone about Trayvon Martin's death because ALL of my friends think the same thing about it that I do:  He was killed by a racist because he was Black and the context itself, guns, the Fla laws, everything, is all fucked up.  It's therefore unlikely I will be getting into any arguments with anyone about Trayvon Martin's death. As far as my family, we are splintered and I hardly see them because they live so far away. All of them live so far away, every last one. Which is both lamentable and a serious reason for celebration. My son doesn't have a lot of family around, sadly. Yet, family functions where Uncle So-and-So blurts out some stupid shit about race in front of my son is not going to happen. Except maybe once every seven years, if that. 

It results that I judge White people insomuch as I am guarded around them because the likelihood that they will be race-knowledge-equipped around my son is pretty pathetically low. Call me racist.  My Black boyfriend calls me racist. He says I am more racist toward White people than he is. I am half White, with a White father I adore, and am more racist toward White people than is my Black boyfriend. Digest that one! I call it "Mama Bear Protective". Call it what you want.  I think I kind of understand how Black Moms feel though. Kind of. A little. 

Speaking of judging people based on race, a funny thing happened yesterday. My son and I walked to the bank. On the way in, I saw these White people dressed in dark clothes sitting on the bench in front of the bank. One of them was this man wearing a black wife-beater with like a Metallica symbol on it or some such.  He sported a shaved head and a tattoo on his arm. I immediately judged him as a potential threatening figure and I pulled my son closer to me before we walked into the bank. 

We stood in line at the bank.  In front of us was a middle-aged, tall White woman also wearing a black tank top. A ring through her nose. I considered that she might be with those people on the bench outside and immediately decided that I wanted nothing to do with her. While I was talking gingerly to my son she kept looking back at us. After all, we are a moderately conspicuous pair.  I tried to ignore her and posture my body in a not-interested-in-conversing-with-you manner. My son sat down in a chair and started looking at a newspaper. The lady commented to me, "Is he finding which stocks to invest in?" I issued a fake chuckle and mumbled something quasi-pleasant. Then, I was holding my son in my arms and he asked me why there was a camera in the bank. 

Is it because they don't want people stealing money? 

"Yes, I think so, my love," I replied. 

The lady in front of us turned, smiled and said, See those toys behind the window they probably don't want anyone stealing the toys either! Which of course was a sure fire way to draw my son into conversation. We politely entertained her for a quarter of a second before I equally-as-politely tried to squeeze her out of the conversation I was having with MY son. 

I told my son, "Hiwot isn't here." 

Who? 

"Hiwot, the Ethiopian woman who works here. She isn't here today. She's probably enjoying her Saturday."

"He looks totally Ethiopian," said the lady in front of us with a kind smile. 

With half resignation and half sincerity, I smiled at her. "Yes, he does," I said proudly and emphatically. 

"I lived in Ethiopia for three years," she offered. "My Dad was in development." 

I suddenly softened.  With those few words she laid waste to the wall I had immediately erected between her and I .

I almost missed out on meeting a woman with an interesting experience who had an affinity for us because my son is Ethiopian.  That sucks.  And while it makes me reconsider judging a book by its cover, I continue to feel more strongly about protecting my son and his experiences and his identity than I feel a desire to actively reform my race-based lack of desire to be around White people.