Sammy Saturday: Linking to the little girl loved letter campaign [Mama C and the boys]
Reading the letter found here at My Brown Baby (MBB) , by Nick Chilles (Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and author of many books) has been a source of great reflection/peace/apprehension/inspiration for me as the mother of two young Black boys.
His letter was written in response to this MBB piece: “Gang Rape In Texas: When Will We Stop Sacrificing Girls In Defense of Black Boys.” In Denene’s words, “Nick was moved to pen this letter to the 11-year-old victim. I extend a special invitation to the mothers and fathers who’ve read this powerful prose to leave empowering and loving messages to and for this child…”
My response to this story is to a)print out the letter and read it over and over again. b) to read it to the boys when they are older and able to hear it. c) to open dialogue with Sam and Marcel about what it means to be a boy. What it means to be a girl. I want to know what messages they are getting already and how they are internalizing them. How they are reacting to, and trying on all those messages.
The cost of racism [Resist Racism]
Loss of empathy is one of the costs of racism. And this has been demonstrated time and time again when natural disasters strike people of color, most recently after the earthquake and tsunami.
Facebook status. Twitter. Because the lives of “J*ps” aren’t really worth anything. Remember Pearl Harbor. And as we’ve seen time and time again, animals (whales and dolphins in this case) are higher in a racist hierarchy than people of color.
A brown kid like them [New York Times/Motherlode]
In many ways we are the new American family. My partner and I have both been divorced; we live in Morningside Heights with my daughter, Maia, who is 3, and his kids, Ava and Chet, who are 10 and 7. Maia is half-Chinese and the spitting image of her father, my ex-husband whose family hails from Myanmar and Vietnam. Trey and his kids are black; the kids’ skin is so caramel that people often ask if Ava and Chet are biologically mine and my biological daughter is adopted. I am the only white person in my family. Most of the time I don’t notice.
But sometimes I do.
And yet, I am expected to feel nothing about the loss of my biological family, about the loss of a culture, an entire people and language, about the loss of a life–because I was a mere infant when I exchanged hands?
You would tell me, “But you have gained so much.” I do not argue with this. In my case (but not in all), I have gained much.
Yet in order for me to gain my American family, both my Omma and my Appa had to lose a child. They had to lose a piece of themselves–and I had to lose a part of myself