Unethical?

I just read a post over at Anti-Racist Parent. One of the questions of the week is: Is it ethical to raise children of color in White communities?

My gut-level reaction was, “WTF?!” However, having taken a few minutes to reflect since reading the above, I believe that it is a complex and complicated question, which doesn’t have a neat and tidy answer.

For my parents, having lived in a predominately-Black urban community for the first nine years of their marriage, decided that my brother and I would have better educational opportunities growing up in the suburbs. Like many urban communities around the country in the late 1960s and early 1970s, the quality of life had begun to decline, particularly with respect to housing, education and safety. Moreover, it was a time of new opportunity for Black Americans, following the passage of the Voting Rights Act, The Civil Rights Act, and The Fair Housing Act, many Black families were leaving the inner city for the suburbs.

I don’t think there is anybody who would argue that the opportunities educationally are better in the suburbs. Socially, I missed out on the dating scene, since White boys didn’t impress me as being interested in dating Black girls. That fact aside, I didn’t feel that my race held me back from having friends, or participating in the things that teenagers typically enjoy. Growing up in a predominately-White community prepared me for life after high school, and beyond. If anything, it taught me that not all White people think and act alike. It also allowed me to develop interests in things that I may never have, such as languages, travel, and, feeling comfortable with all kinds of people. In short, I had a better quality of life.

Having said the aforementioned, it wasn’t like my parents completely cut my brother off from Black people. They made sure that we were well-connected to our extended family, which resided in South Carolina. Every summer, we would travel as a family and spend a week, sometimes two, with grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. There was also the Black Baptist church we attended. So, as in most things, there has to be a balance.

So, is it unethical to raise children of color in predominately-White communities? This Black woman doesn’t think so. I have been enriched as a result of the experience.

Katrina Pain Index – 2009

A friend tweeted this last evening. The results from this report are devastatingly heartbreaking.

I like the the following, which is a comment left by a reader:

This article should end with:

$23,000,000,000,000 for the bank bailout.

“In fact, $23 trillion is more than the total cost of all the wars the United States has ever fought, put together. World War II, for example, cost $4.1 trillion in 2008 dollars, according to the Congressional Research Service.

Even the Moon landings and the New Deal didn’t come close to $23 trillion: the Moon shot in 1969 cost an estimated $237 billion in current dollars, and the entire Depression-era Roosevelt relief program came in at $500 billion, according to Jim Bianco of Bianco Research.

The annual gross domestic product of the United States is just over $14 trillion.”

http://www.politico.com/news/stories/0709/25164.html

Representative Jenkins, Why Are You Lying?

Yet another news story. This one just beats all.

Representative Lynn Jenkins used a taboo phrase: “great white hope.” What’s worse, she claimed that she meant no disrespect.

Whenever a person apologizes for having offended someone, according to my Dear Brother, what he/she is really saying is that the person on the receiving end is too stupid to understand. I agree.

I researched Rep. Lynn Jenkins. She was born in 1963. She’s old enough to know what the term, “great white hope” means, and that it’s not a cool thing to say. In other words, old enough to know better.

Rep. Jenkins, you’re not only a disgrace, but you’re also a liar. If you’re representative of the Republican Party, it deserves to go down.

A message for Michael Steele: Run, don’t walk, away from the Republican Party. Get as far away as you can, and as quickly as you can.

Say It Isn’t So

I’m on a proverbial roll with the news stories. Here is another topic that is not getting much traction on blogs.

My Dear Brother told me about this last evening. I don’t see the logic in it. I am still in shock and disbelief.

Rumor has it that President Obama signed the bill in order to appease the NRA gun lobby. I don’t give a flying hamburger about the NRA gun lobby. For me, this is a major FAIL.

Black Americans weren’t visiting the national parks in huge numbers prior to President Obama’s signing of the bill. I know one thing: This Black woman will not be visiting a national park any time in the future – near or distant. Nut jobs carrying semi-automatic weapons at healthcare reform rallies are enough for me.

It’s Not About Healthcare Reform. Really. It Isn’t.

This worthless piece of humanity and poor excuse for a man was questioned by the Secret Service for the sign he was holding.

I rarely report on the day’s news in my blog posts. But, when I saw the aforementioned news report, I wanted to spit. It truly burned my grits. Oddly enough, this particular story has not been reported about amongst my collection of regular blog reads. Hmmm…

The last paragraph of the story to which I linked bottles the answer for what is really troubling so many White people. They just cannot handle it.

It’s ugly enough that this man would spew vitriol about President Obama on his raggedy sign. But, the First Lady and the First Daughters, too?!

I told my Dear Father how fearful I am that President Obama will get hurt. My Dear Dad, a former Korean War Marine veteran and retired law enforcement officer, assured me that the Secret Service is on the case. “They’re trained to shoot to kill,” he told me.

Lessons of Early Childhood Thrown Under the Bus?

According to Robert Fulghrum…

All I Ever Really Needed To Know I Learned In Kindergarten

Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do, and how to be, I learned in Kindergarten. Wisdom was not found at the top of the graduate school mountain, but there in the sandbox at nursery school. These are the things I learned:

Share everything.

Play fair.

Don’t hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

Clean up your own mess.

Don’t take things that aren’t yours.

Say you’re sorry when you hurt someone.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush the toilet.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balanced life.

Learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work everyday some.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out into the world, watch for traffic, hold hands and stick together.

Be aware of wonder and wonderful things.

Remember the little seed in the plastic cup. The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody really knows how or why, but we are still all like that.

Goldfish and hampsters and white mice and even the little seed in the plastic cup – they all die…So do we.

And then remember the story book about Dick and Jane and the first important word you learned, the biggest word of all: LOOK!

Everything you need to know is there, from Kindergarten, somewhere. The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation…Ecology and politics and sane living…Think of what a better world it would be if we all–the whole world–had cookies and milk about 3 o’clock every afternoon and then laid down with our blankets for a nap. Or if we had a basic policy in our nation, and all other nations, to always put things back where we found them and to clean up our own messes.

And it is still the truth, no matter who you are or how old you are, when you go out there into this world, it is best to hold hands and stick together.

by Robert Fulghum

If the above is true, and, I happen to believe that it is, what happens when we reach adulthood? Does anyone have any insight at all?

So many of us in adulthood seem to go in the opposite direction from the simple teachings and lessons of early childhood. Not that it makes us bad people, necessarily, just really hard to live with.

Trolls

Honestly, I did not know what the term, troll, suggested, at least cyber-speaking, until I began to blog.

Here is my opinion, expressed on WATRD, which, by the way, has no comment policy. Therefore, trolls seem to run particularly rampant in such venues.

Trolls seem to find their way to blogs which express a point-of-view which is counter to their own. They aren’t playing “Devil’s Advocate”, which, come to think of it, I believe is one of the stupidest and most useless monikers devised by Western society. People rarely communicate false feelings.

Anyway, trolls seem to like activist blogs especially, and believe that blogs by people of color and women are their playground.

However, we give them power by constantly and continually engaging them. Perhaps address a comment or two, but, I suggest simply ignore them.

It amazes me how there are people out there in cyberspace who have no more of a life than to infest blogs where there is a point-of-view that isn’t to their liking.

As I always say, it’s about education here at MI. So, here is an excellent article for dealing with trolls:

Beware The Troll: A Practical Guide

Do I Need To Have Given Birth to Justify *My* Stretchmarks?

I just finished reading a very thought-provoking post by Clare, which was her response to this post by a blogger who calls herself Yum Yucky.

I didn’t read Yum Yucky’s post about stretch marks. While I respect and appreciate Yum Yucky’s point-of-view, her story about stretch marks, and the comments which followed, don’t resonate with me; I have never given birth.

I was, however, moved by Clare’s point-of-view, which prompted me to leave the following comment on her (Clare’s) blog:

Hi, there!

Here via WATRD.

I think you and I share the same sentiments re: stretch marks. I, like you, have never given birth, and, so, like you, I cannot give the reason for my stretch marks this attribution. Which is why I didn’t read the post re: stretch marks.

That said, your story, my story, as well as the stories all of the women who read but didn’t comment, and who read, and who did comment, have meaning, validity and worth. I think pregnancy in our society is in and of itself considered a badge of honor, and those of us who have not given birth by choice or other circumstances are somehow deemed as unworthy, because we haven’t fulfilled our “purpose.”

I didn’t read Yum Yucky’s post, because, it really doesn’t pertain to me. But, as I said, it adds to the diversity of experiences some women have, and which may contribute to their feelings re: their own bodies.

Speaking of stretch marks: The aforementioned reminded me of a wonderful scene in the film, “Real Women Have Curves.” There is a group of women, working in a dress factory. Because it is so hot, they disrobe, leaving only their bras and panties. A conversation regarding body image, size and stretch marks ensues. What’s great about this scene is that one of the women, Estela, who, unlike the other women, has never given birth, but has stretch marks.

Perhaps my story, and Clare’s, will prompt the sharing of a different but equally valid point-of-view about stretch marks.

Here are some links about stretch marks which may be of interest:

Mayo Clinic-Stretch Marks
All About Stretch Marks

Ok. Returning to convalescing now.

Black vs. black, White vs. white

I am in the process of recovering from a procedure that was performed on Monday. I’m doing fine. Although it was a minimally invasive surgery, it was surgery, nonetheless. Besides, my Dear Dad and Dear Mom would fry me in hog fat if they knew I wasn’t resting.

So, I am limiting the amount of energy I expend on my usual intellectual mind spills. In lieu of a full-blown post, I offer you this very thought-provoking article, courtesy of Luke Visconti, aka “Ask the White Guy”, of DiversityInc. The comments which follow are equally thought-provoking, and, unlike in many online news venues, articulate and intelligent.

Do you agree with the ideas expressed in the article? Why or why not?

*My* Privilege

This past weekend, I was involved in a conversation on polyamory. BTW: I am Marcy Webb, aka Miss Incognegro.

In the course of the conversation, I got schooled with respect to my own privilege. Not having encountered the concept of polyamory prior, my initial reactions were hostile, and I conveyed opinions in my comments which prompted several other commenters to call me out on my privilege as a woman who upholds monogamous relationships.

The exchange was a humbling experience, to say the least. I think that I, as a person of color, am not forced very often to recognize and examine the ways I am privileged in this society. Yes, even I, as a Black woman, hold privileges, and, hold prejudices.

I am not proud of my behavior in the aforementioned situation. In addition to offering an apology to those to whom I showed disrespect, I set about educating myself on polyamory. I located some very useful sites for anyone who would like to learn more. They are the following:

Polyamory Society
How To Be Poly-Friendly

The sentence which really resonated with me comes from the second link, and is the following:

We get a lot of really negative reactions and put-downs due to monogamous defensiveness, and this can really wear on us. Try to stay positive.

As a Black person, I am often made to feel this way when White people say and do things that are ignorant, prejudiced and bigoted. So, I can really relate when the proverbial shoe is on the other foot.

This statement, also from the second link, characterizes the way in which I behaved:

Recognize that there is a cultural discourse that paints polyamorous people as sick, sinners, immature, maladjusted, slutty, nymphomaniac, or otherwise problematic. Remember that poly people are constantly being told these things, and it takes a toll. Never repeat any of these stigmas. If you find you associate some of these things with nonmonogamy, recognize that you have prejudiced views, and try to change your attitude.

The experience of the past weekend made me more sensitive and aware – to the lifestyle choice, and to my own degree of privilege. I am grateful for having had the opportunity, on both counts.