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Monday, September 26, 2011

The Blind Privilege of White Moms

I received a very interesting reply to my tweet about what happened to me this weekend. Julie, a white mom, pointed out why some white women/moms wont get why questioning a mother of color connection to their biracial child is upsetting and rude.

White Moms Privilege

I was shocked to see something like that said (admitted) when other white moms would swear otherwise. As I traded tweets with Julie I wanted to learn more about this "white privileged blindness" some white women/moms have.

I asked Julie to share her thoughts on the subject in a guest post on the Euphoria Luv blog and she bravely wrote White Mamas, White Privilege & Racial Mental Tango

Please read the post, share a comment and start the dialogue. I think it's important that moms of color with biracial children hear/read/ understand what's really happening in the minds of some white women/moms.

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Sunday, September 25, 2011

My Black Motherhood: Separate & Never Equal

Last night I sat talking to 2 black women about being a mom to a blasian child and an asian & black community advocate, when a white women walked over to our area, starting gushing over my son and then turn to the group of white women sitting next to us and asked which of the women (white) my son belonged to.

shestreams blasian family

*blink, blink* (where's a hidden camera when you need one?!)

I should mention that my son was sitting in my lap, with my arms around him, playing on my ipod touch that has a case with a photo of us on it. For all arguments sake it was clear he was with me.

As I looked at this women who still seemed clueless when none of the white women claimed my son as their own (would they even dare?!) I wondered what she saw....or rather didn't see.

As I turned back to the black women I was talking to, 3 pairs of eyes collectively rolled together. I think we might have sighed also but I cant remember. I do remember the conversation that immediately followed the side eye all 3 of us gave that white women.
  • A conversation with comments validating that my son looks just like me
  • A conversation that validated that people don't take time to pay attention to anything besides skin-tone
  • A conversation about how more people need to know that black women have biracial children that are a different hue, heck even a black mom with a black child can be different hues.
We had this conversation with that white women still standing there being pointedly ignored by me. Let me tell you, it took most of my will power not to turn around and tell her how ignorant and stupid she sounded. But I've learned not to engage with people when the end result would be pointless.

My point was proven when this same women, passed my son and I repeatedly during the night and never stopped to say anything, not a sorry for the misunderstanding, not a can I get to know you, not even a hello. Nothing, just kept looking at us and not speaking.

What's even more interesting is this women knows of me in the mom blogging world. We may not be friends in the same circle but I'm certainly no stranger to her. So again I wondered what she saw....or rather didn't see.

shestreams blasian family

What is it that people are NOT seeing when they look at me as women and mother? This was the thought on my mind as I looked around at the people also at the conference. They were mainly white. While that's nothing new at these types of events, as I entered the area where dinner was being served I felt uncomfortable.

As I looked around to see where my son and I can sit, I made eye contact with a certain high profile mom in the blogging world. The look in her eyes made it clear, in her mind, there's no place for me and my son at this event. I immediately lost my appetite.

As I walked back towards the exit, I said goodbye to the few that were friendly and pointedly ignored the others. Could I have stayed? Yes, I payed the fee to be at this conference but which mom want to expose their child to people who are confused and unfriendly with a family that's different then their's?

That to me seems to be the answer to my question. People in that world still don't see me on the level with them.

Black motherhood is still a mystery, a black mother is still something to be kept as separate and an outsider. For the last 2.5 years in the mom blog world, I've held my tongue, played nice and paid my dues when dealing with rudeness, discrimination and sometimes out right hostility. In the end for what?

At an event where I'm suppose to be part of a community of influencers, I'm reminded my "motherhood" influence doesn't apply to them.

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Tuesday, September 6, 2011

There's vomit on the keyboard

I had big plans for the labor day weekend. I first planned to take a little camping trip upstate to relax and unwind but first the hurricane nixed those plans and then my family used my free weekend to request my help with moving. They promised it would only be one day and then I could have the rest of the weekend to myself. So I suffered the loss of my Saturday (prepacking) and Sunday (actual moving day) with hopes of seeing the West Indian Day parade on Monday with my son. But on Monday morning my son woke up with a fever and refused to get out of bed.

sleeping

What followed was not a day of dancing and singing in the parade as I planned. Instead I was juggling constantly checking his temperature while begging him to drink something. I had given up on getting him to actually eat a few days back. While he may go a day or two without eating, having him stay hydrated with liquids was a must. So I checked and begged. Sip, sip

He slept for most of the day but did wake now and then for a cuddle. I worried that the fever would turn into something serious but so far it was low grade with no other serious effects. Around 4pm he woke up and seemed better so I tried giving him something to eat and drink. He nibbled, drank and sat down in front of the pc to watch cartoons.

I took a few moments to try and work on a project a few feet away. As I furious typed away I heard the wet sound of something dripping. As I looked over to where my son was sitting I saw a large pile of slimy vomit spreading from the keyboard and dripping down from the table. Plop, plop.

I checked my son to make sure he was ok. No crying or mention of the vomit. He just looked at me and then looked at the mess that was his lunch. *sigh* After a very through cleanup, I changed his clothing, restarted the cartoons and went to finish what I was working on.

A few minutes later, my son was ready for another around of napping and I was ready to join him. Our labor day didn't turn out as we planned but in the long run it was for the best. I heard later that night that there was not one but two shooting incidents during the parade. I can't imagine what it would have been like to be running with my son as bullets flew around me. As I compare what my day was versus what it could have been, I decide that I can live with vomit on the key board and my son laying peacefully next to me.

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