A few weeks ago while riding home from the grocery store at a speed of about 35mph, a squirrel darted out in front of me. I thought nothing of it at first because it’s a regular occurrence. Squirrels are so fast that I never considered that I would actually hit one at the speed I was going. However, this time was different. The squirrel never made it to the median. I looked through my rearview mirror and there he was—road kill. It was the first time I’d ever hit or ran over anything (well anything that was alive). I felt really bad. Sure, some would say “it was just a squirrel”, but it was a preventable accident. I could have slowed down or stopped until the squirrel had safely made it across the street, but I didn’t think I had to. Had it been a dog or a duck, I would have slowed down. But, I just assumed the squirrel would make it across. They always do. There’s even a “Geico” commercial that shows a squirrel make it across a busy street in the nick of time.
This morning, while riding on the highway, I saw a dead raccoon that had obviously met the same fate as the squirrel and for whatever reason, I thought about the incident again. I thought to myself—if everything happens for a reason, I wonder why I hit that squirrel. Here’s what came to me:
In life there are lots of people who need help. Their shortcomings, obstacles, and dilemmas are evident. We all know people who need help and hopefully, we respond and offer our support and/or assistance in whatever manner we can. We check on our friends and relatives who are faced with struggles to make sure that they are okay, and remind them regularly that we are there to help if needed. These people are our “Dogs” and “Ducks”. We know we need to watch out for them, look after them, and make sure that they are alright. We understand their vulnerabilities and the role we may have to play in making their lives manageable.
On the other hand, we all know people that seem to have it all together. These are the friends and relatives that have never asked for help, don’t appear to have any problems and couldn’t possibly benefit from any help that you could offer. After all, these people seem to be doing just as good, if not better, than you are. These people don’t seem to “need” anything. In fact, they are always doing or helping others. These people are our “Squirrels”. Remember what happened to that squirrel that decided to cross in front of me? Yep, I “assumed” that squirrel could get across the street. I was wrong.
I challenge each of you to look out for the “Squirrels” in your life. These people are movers and shakers; they are always busy, busy, busy. They think that they can do anything and everything. They may feel invincible but they aren’t. Check on them. Offer to help them with a task or invite them over for dinner or out for drinks. Call just to let them know that you care. Remind them to slow down and take a break. Oh,…and if you’re the squirrel, it’s better to take your time and carefully chart out your course of action, than to dart towards your goal without regarding the obstacles and dangers in front of you. Don't get so wrapped up in trying to do so much that you end up killing yourself. Of course, there are challenges that must be overcome in order to be successful, but please...slow down.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
The Ugly Truth...
As each of us travels along the road of destiny towards our passion and purpose, we are at some point forced to embrace a harsh reality. For some of us, it will take years to realize and even longer to accept. For most of us, even after recognizing and accepting this ugly truth, we go far into our adult lives before taking the appropriate actions. Some of us fail to see, or chose to ignore the reality and live with the residual effects for years, and years and years. The harsh reality that I speak of is that many of the people who walk with you as you travel towards your destiny do not wish you well.
It’s a very painful notion to accept when you genuinely care about the well-being of a person but the feeling is not reciprocal. All of the signs are there, but it’s much too difficult to believe. Instead, we spend countless hours trying to convince ourselves that our intuition is off. I mean, after all, why would someone be unhappy about another person’s success? Sadly, at some point we each have to come to terms with this: There are some who allow their own insecurities, regrets and unpursued dreams to rob them of their ability to wish the best for others.
I am still in the process of learning to remove these people from my space. It’s very difficult in the real world because for whatever reason, these people want to remain a part of your life. They wear the costume of friendship and masquerade their ill will. However, there comes the time when each of us is able to see through the deception. Far too often, we ignore the signs and opt instead to try and find the good in the relationship, despite the obvious negativity. I say that it is time we find the inner strength to “unfriend” those who do not add value and positive energy to our lives. It’s ok to wish them well from a distance and remain cordial, but those who you allow to be a part of your personal journey should have a genuine interest in seeing you live your purpose…without any concern about whether or not you reach your goal before they realize theirs.
A person who is supposed to be a part of your journey will be happy with each step forward you take. They will be proud of your successes and will have no problem telling you or others just how proud they are. When you face obstacles, these will be the people who help you find a way around them. They will encourage you when you can’t see the path to your purpose. They notice when you are off your game or slacking and quickly express their disappointment. They challenge you to be and give your best. These are the people who could be experiencing their biggest setbacks, but would still be ecstatic about your achievements. They care about you and hold your dreams close to their hearts. They pray for your strength, well-being and success as often as they pray for their own.
With the people who are supposed to be on your journey guarding the path, there simply isn’t enough room for those who don’t believe in, encourage, or support your dreams. Hanging on to them, only slows you down. Let them go. No apologies necessary. Find the courage to distance yourself from these people. Find the courage to move forward on your path with only those who truly matter beside you.
It’s a very painful notion to accept when you genuinely care about the well-being of a person but the feeling is not reciprocal. All of the signs are there, but it’s much too difficult to believe. Instead, we spend countless hours trying to convince ourselves that our intuition is off. I mean, after all, why would someone be unhappy about another person’s success? Sadly, at some point we each have to come to terms with this: There are some who allow their own insecurities, regrets and unpursued dreams to rob them of their ability to wish the best for others.
I am still in the process of learning to remove these people from my space. It’s very difficult in the real world because for whatever reason, these people want to remain a part of your life. They wear the costume of friendship and masquerade their ill will. However, there comes the time when each of us is able to see through the deception. Far too often, we ignore the signs and opt instead to try and find the good in the relationship, despite the obvious negativity. I say that it is time we find the inner strength to “unfriend” those who do not add value and positive energy to our lives. It’s ok to wish them well from a distance and remain cordial, but those who you allow to be a part of your personal journey should have a genuine interest in seeing you live your purpose…without any concern about whether or not you reach your goal before they realize theirs.
A person who is supposed to be a part of your journey will be happy with each step forward you take. They will be proud of your successes and will have no problem telling you or others just how proud they are. When you face obstacles, these will be the people who help you find a way around them. They will encourage you when you can’t see the path to your purpose. They notice when you are off your game or slacking and quickly express their disappointment. They challenge you to be and give your best. These are the people who could be experiencing their biggest setbacks, but would still be ecstatic about your achievements. They care about you and hold your dreams close to their hearts. They pray for your strength, well-being and success as often as they pray for their own.
With the people who are supposed to be on your journey guarding the path, there simply isn’t enough room for those who don’t believe in, encourage, or support your dreams. Hanging on to them, only slows you down. Let them go. No apologies necessary. Find the courage to distance yourself from these people. Find the courage to move forward on your path with only those who truly matter beside you.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Moving On
I can’t believe that I stayed so long. All the signs of a bad relationship were there but I kept thinking things would get better. I mean, he took good care of me…even though he was detached, cold and aloof. I tried to rationalize the behavior. “Well, that’s just the way he is” I thought to myself. I tried to change my expectations, thinking that perhaps I was expecting too much. But, I was bothered by the fact that he didn’t seem to care about me at all. Sure, he did what he needed to do, but he was not interested in connecting with me. I tried to engage him every chance I had, but nothing. I wasted so much time hoping things would get better. Years passed, but not even time could change him.
I’m generally a strong person, but somehow I didn’t consider leaving. I found reasons to stay. First of all, it was convenient. I could usually see him when I needed to. Secondly, I’d gotten use to being treated coldly and knew how to handle it. More importantly, I didn’t want to have to start all over again. I convinced myself that if I started over again, I’d still have an issue with the new person, because after all, nobody’s perfect. I told myself that the process of establishing a new relationship was just too stressful. I’d have to share all of my history with someone new. I’d have to take a chance and trust again. That is very difficult for me to do. So I stayed; enduring a relationship of convenience. I wasted time and money (I gave him lots of money over the years) and never felt fulfilled.
A couple of weeks ago I told him how I felt. I shared my feelings and waited for feedback. I thought certainly he would realize that he had neglected me and take corrective action. I was wrong. He just seemed irritated by my expectations. I got the feeling that he expected me to
accept him the way he is. I stopped trying. I completely shut down. I began to feel angry—at myself for allowing this to go on for so long. I decided to change my situation once and for all. I didn’t bother to tell him, even though I doubt it would have mattered. He didn’t care about me (at least not the way that I needed him to). I left him and resolved to put my needs first from that day on.
So, I called a few friends and let them know that I was looking for someone a little more caring. I also kept my eyes and ears open for new prospects.
Well, today I finally switched doctors and it seems this one has the right prescription.
I’m generally a strong person, but somehow I didn’t consider leaving. I found reasons to stay. First of all, it was convenient. I could usually see him when I needed to. Secondly, I’d gotten use to being treated coldly and knew how to handle it. More importantly, I didn’t want to have to start all over again. I convinced myself that if I started over again, I’d still have an issue with the new person, because after all, nobody’s perfect. I told myself that the process of establishing a new relationship was just too stressful. I’d have to share all of my history with someone new. I’d have to take a chance and trust again. That is very difficult for me to do. So I stayed; enduring a relationship of convenience. I wasted time and money (I gave him lots of money over the years) and never felt fulfilled.
A couple of weeks ago I told him how I felt. I shared my feelings and waited for feedback. I thought certainly he would realize that he had neglected me and take corrective action. I was wrong. He just seemed irritated by my expectations. I got the feeling that he expected me to
accept him the way he is. I stopped trying. I completely shut down. I began to feel angry—at myself for allowing this to go on for so long. I decided to change my situation once and for all. I didn’t bother to tell him, even though I doubt it would have mattered. He didn’t care about me (at least not the way that I needed him to). I left him and resolved to put my needs first from that day on.
So, I called a few friends and let them know that I was looking for someone a little more caring. I also kept my eyes and ears open for new prospects.
Well, today I finally switched doctors and it seems this one has the right prescription.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
A Winner's Attitude
It was a must-win game. The semi-final game—a mere formality on the way to the championship. By all accounts, my sons’ team was undoubtedly winning the championship. Everybody knew it. I don’t think anyone came there with another thought. Not the opposing team, not the opposing coach, and not the opposing players. What transpired over the next couple of hours was a multitude of lessons. During the first quarter, the opposing team jumped out to a quick five point lead. With our team starting the game with two of the best players on the bench, we weren’t the least bit concerned about that lead. As the first quarter came to a close, our team had gained momentum. We were looking quite sharp in the opening minutes of the second quarter. That’s when it happened. One of our best defensive players went after a loose ball and fell on his knee. For a moment, it appeared to be business as usual because he’s always diving and jumping and putting his body at risk in order to nab a rebound, break up a play, or steal the ball. This time it was different though. He let out a scream that sent a clear indication that something was seriously wrong. As players, coaches and spectators quickly rushed to his side, their facial expressions showed agony, concern, nervousness, and disgust. Whispers of a “sunken” and “caved-in” knee-cap bounced off the walls of the gymnasium. It seemed like it took an eternity for fire rescue workers to arrive and take him out on a stretcher to the local hospital. The game continued shortly after, but we seemed to struggle for most of the night. Tentative play, missed shots, turnovers, poor defensive execution, and a couple of bad calls left us down by two with seconds remaining on the clock. One of our best shooters launched a three and missed. That’s when it happened. Miraculously, we managed to have the ball with __ seconds on the clock. The team ran a play that left my son wide open and near the basket. He went to the basket, laid the ball up, and it came off the rim. He missed the shot. The team scrambled to get another shot off, but to no avail. The buzzer sounded and the opposing team went crazy. So did the team that was waiting to play our team. They were more excited than the team that had pulled off the upset. My son lay on the court for a few moments and then headed to the bench with his head in his shirt. Parents, coaches, and players from other teams came over to lend support and to remind him that he was one of the best players in the league. “It happens like that sometimes.” “It happened to Patrick Ewing in a finals game.” “You’re the best player out here.” “Keep ya head up man.” “It was just one of those nights.” “Your game was off tonight.” No matter what they said, he kept his head in his shirt. There was no consoling him. He’d let his teammates down.
With the exception being dad providing a few words of encouragement, we drove home from the game in near silence. Back at home, I shared a few thoughts with him. First and foremost, the well-being of his friend was more important than the game. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and reach out to lend support to his friend. (It’s important to put things in prospective.) Next, although his team had lost a game that they were projected to win; he had not lost the game by himself. Each player needed to start the game with a sense of urgency—no matter who they were playing against. It is important to give 110% from the beginning of the game until the final buzzer sounds. No team should ever be taken for granted…especially teams that have nothing to lose. Hustle can beat talent. I advised him not to let the moment define him, but instead to let it be his re-defining moment. I told him that tonight should mark the following “moments”:
• The moment when he decided that he’s going to play harder than ever in every game he plays next season with his varsity team.
• The moment when he decided to work on his game more than ever.
• The moment he decided that he’d get more loose balls, more rebounds, and more steals.
• The moment when he decided that he’d work on going strong to the basket and finishing with his left hand.
• The moment when he became one of the greatest players to play the game.
When he missed that shot and the buzzer sounded, he had to accept a loss. However, failure isn’t final. In times like this, we all have to regroup and find the courage to begin again. Don’t let setbacks steal your confidence. Instead, admit mistakes, learn from them, and MOVE ON!
As he lay on the floor of the gymnasium, I’m sure he thought that the loss was an end of an era for his team. I beg to differ. For him, that game marked the end of an ERROR and the beginning of a new ERA. He’s on his way to greatness, and one missed shot can’t stop that.
With the exception being dad providing a few words of encouragement, we drove home from the game in near silence. Back at home, I shared a few thoughts with him. First and foremost, the well-being of his friend was more important than the game. He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and reach out to lend support to his friend. (It’s important to put things in prospective.) Next, although his team had lost a game that they were projected to win; he had not lost the game by himself. Each player needed to start the game with a sense of urgency—no matter who they were playing against. It is important to give 110% from the beginning of the game until the final buzzer sounds. No team should ever be taken for granted…especially teams that have nothing to lose. Hustle can beat talent. I advised him not to let the moment define him, but instead to let it be his re-defining moment. I told him that tonight should mark the following “moments”:
• The moment when he decided that he’s going to play harder than ever in every game he plays next season with his varsity team.
• The moment when he decided to work on his game more than ever.
• The moment he decided that he’d get more loose balls, more rebounds, and more steals.
• The moment when he decided that he’d work on going strong to the basket and finishing with his left hand.
• The moment when he became one of the greatest players to play the game.
When he missed that shot and the buzzer sounded, he had to accept a loss. However, failure isn’t final. In times like this, we all have to regroup and find the courage to begin again. Don’t let setbacks steal your confidence. Instead, admit mistakes, learn from them, and MOVE ON!
As he lay on the floor of the gymnasium, I’m sure he thought that the loss was an end of an era for his team. I beg to differ. For him, that game marked the end of an ERROR and the beginning of a new ERA. He’s on his way to greatness, and one missed shot can’t stop that.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
What "They" Said About Me...
They said I had a better chance of being incarcerated than being educated.
They said I was more likely to drop out or cop out.
They said I'd have children when I was a kid myself, and the kids would have to be cared for by somebody else.
They said my body would be plagued by poor and failing health.
They laughed at the prospect of me accumulating wealth.
They said I'd never marry and never live in a house.
They wrote me off as a "good for nothing louse".
Because I was born into poverty, they said that's where I'd remain.
They determined that before adulthood, I'd either kill or I'd be slain.
They said I'd never move out of the projects, and if I did, it would be with Section 8. They said that eventually I'd be sorry, but by then, it would be too late.
They said I'd spend all my money on frivolous things, like fancy cars,diamonds, and two-finger rings.
They said that saving and investing was beyond my comprehension.
They never even considered I could one day earn a pension.
They said that I was lazy and didn't really want to work.
They said I'd rather wait on the government "perks".
They said that I'd sell drugs, and if not, I'd be addicted.
They said I'd commit a crime and at some point, I'd get convicted.
They said I was more likely to get HIV than an MPA.
But I proved you wrong, didn't I "They"?
They said I was more likely to drop out or cop out.
They said I'd have children when I was a kid myself, and the kids would have to be cared for by somebody else.
They said my body would be plagued by poor and failing health.
They laughed at the prospect of me accumulating wealth.
They said I'd never marry and never live in a house.
They wrote me off as a "good for nothing louse".
Because I was born into poverty, they said that's where I'd remain.
They determined that before adulthood, I'd either kill or I'd be slain.
They said I'd never move out of the projects, and if I did, it would be with Section 8. They said that eventually I'd be sorry, but by then, it would be too late.
They said I'd spend all my money on frivolous things, like fancy cars,diamonds, and two-finger rings.
They said that saving and investing was beyond my comprehension.
They never even considered I could one day earn a pension.
They said that I was lazy and didn't really want to work.
They said I'd rather wait on the government "perks".
They said that I'd sell drugs, and if not, I'd be addicted.
They said I'd commit a crime and at some point, I'd get convicted.
They said I was more likely to get HIV than an MPA.
But I proved you wrong, didn't I "They"?
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Prize Fighter
Muhammad Ali. Mike Tyson. Joe Frazier. Sugar Ray Leonard. George Foreman. Evander Holyfield. No list of the greatest fighters to ever live would be complete without Rebecca Powell-Snoddy. Although many have never heard of the latter, she is indeed one of the greatest—a legend with a legacy like no other. You see, Rebecca battled an opponent who has never been beaten. Rebecca fought death. Here’s how it went down:
The first match happened more than twenty years ago, Rebecca was diagnosed with a brain tumor. For her, this proved to be nothing more than an exhibition fight. She battled back from both her first and second brain surgeries with unparalleled resilience. Not long after the second surgery, Rebecca was driving in her car when suddenly; she lost sight in her left eye. She described it as feeling like someone slowly pulling down a shade until she couldn’t see anything. This was indeed a major blow for “Unbeatable Becky” but it didn’t stop her. She regrouped and faced her challenges head on. Being blind in one eye seemed to give her a sharper focus on life and its importance. Unbeatable Becky was so busy finding ways to help others that she didn’t allow herself any time to be distracted by the Rope-a-Dope of worry, self-pity, and anger. Nope, she was too busy championing someone else’s cause for that.
Oh, and Death…she took the life out of him. He came back for re-match after re-match and Unbeatable Becky KO’d him time after time. Unbeatable Becky underwent her 4th brain surgery in 2009. The surgery was more than 18 hours long. Many didn’t think she had the stamina to beat death that time, but like the champion she is, she found a way to win. Within months, Unbeatable Becky had pulled off another major upset. She made a full recovery and was back to the business of helping and caring for others in no time at all.
In July 2010, bruised and battered, Death showed up again requesting a re-match. Rebecca’s physician advised her that the tumor had returned and would require a 5th brain surgery. Without surgery, the physician predicted that she would not live for more than one year. Wearily, Unbeatable Becky agreed to one final fight with Death. However, she changed the rules. This time, there would be no surgery. Unbeatable Becky conferred with her corner—none were prepared to offer coaching—but no coaching was needed. Unbeatable Becky had her own game plan and only needed help with execution. Unbeatable Becky planned her end of life care and assigned roles and responsibilities to those who were capable of carrying out her wishes as described. Afterwards, she returned to business as usual. She prioritized responsibilities and focused on things that mattered to her. Her order of business was simple: God first, followed by family, friends, and others in need of her help. She truly was a modern day Mother Teresa.
Unbeatable Becky fought valiantly. I’m sure that Death got more than he bargained for. Unbeatable Becky fought for twelve rounds—she never gave up. When the bell rang, she went to her corner, closed her eyes, and rested—awaiting the decision. When she opened them up and the angels welcomed her home, I’m sure she smiled and said “I beat Death for real this time”.
The first match happened more than twenty years ago, Rebecca was diagnosed with a brain tumor. For her, this proved to be nothing more than an exhibition fight. She battled back from both her first and second brain surgeries with unparalleled resilience. Not long after the second surgery, Rebecca was driving in her car when suddenly; she lost sight in her left eye. She described it as feeling like someone slowly pulling down a shade until she couldn’t see anything. This was indeed a major blow for “Unbeatable Becky” but it didn’t stop her. She regrouped and faced her challenges head on. Being blind in one eye seemed to give her a sharper focus on life and its importance. Unbeatable Becky was so busy finding ways to help others that she didn’t allow herself any time to be distracted by the Rope-a-Dope of worry, self-pity, and anger. Nope, she was too busy championing someone else’s cause for that.
Oh, and Death…she took the life out of him. He came back for re-match after re-match and Unbeatable Becky KO’d him time after time. Unbeatable Becky underwent her 4th brain surgery in 2009. The surgery was more than 18 hours long. Many didn’t think she had the stamina to beat death that time, but like the champion she is, she found a way to win. Within months, Unbeatable Becky had pulled off another major upset. She made a full recovery and was back to the business of helping and caring for others in no time at all.
In July 2010, bruised and battered, Death showed up again requesting a re-match. Rebecca’s physician advised her that the tumor had returned and would require a 5th brain surgery. Without surgery, the physician predicted that she would not live for more than one year. Wearily, Unbeatable Becky agreed to one final fight with Death. However, she changed the rules. This time, there would be no surgery. Unbeatable Becky conferred with her corner—none were prepared to offer coaching—but no coaching was needed. Unbeatable Becky had her own game plan and only needed help with execution. Unbeatable Becky planned her end of life care and assigned roles and responsibilities to those who were capable of carrying out her wishes as described. Afterwards, she returned to business as usual. She prioritized responsibilities and focused on things that mattered to her. Her order of business was simple: God first, followed by family, friends, and others in need of her help. She truly was a modern day Mother Teresa.
Unbeatable Becky fought valiantly. I’m sure that Death got more than he bargained for. Unbeatable Becky fought for twelve rounds—she never gave up. When the bell rang, she went to her corner, closed her eyes, and rested—awaiting the decision. When she opened them up and the angels welcomed her home, I’m sure she smiled and said “I beat Death for real this time”.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Children Learn What They Live...
Black people are bad, and they rob people. My seven-year old son overheard that statement in the school cafeteria.
When he mentioned it to my husband and me, we asked him did he say anything to the student. He told us that the student was not sitting at the same table as him and was not talking to him. He explained that he “overheard” the statement because he has “very good hearing”. I asked him what he thought or felt when he overheard the comment and he said that his thought was “that is so racist”.
Upon further probing, it became apparent that he was confused as to whether or not the statement was an accurate one. We were alarmed that he even considered that the statement could be true. This led us to ask the question “Do you believe what he said?” He replied with a statement even more troubling than his confusion—“Well, I always see black people who rob people on the news.” This undoubtedly, led to a discussion about the dangers associated with stereotyping and pre-judging others. We also discussed the difference between racism and pre-judging.
Lastly and most importantly, we did some “damage control”. Attending a school where 70% of the students are white and only 20% are black—and being the only black male student in your class could definitely make a kid feel isolated. We pointed out that in his experience he has never met a black person who robs people. We reminded him of all of the positive things that are happening in our family. We talked about his uncles, aunts, grandparents, brother, cousins and friends, reminding him of the qualities each exhibits. Then we told him to look at us—his parents, reminding him of the values that we have instilled in him and the methods and means we employ to ensure his physical, emotional, and social well-being.
By the end of our conversation, he had distanced himself from his initial perception. However, I was still concerned about the impact that such a statement could have had if we had not prodded him to share his thoughts. I was also deeply disturbed by the idea that the second grade student who made the statement had been misinformed and/or misguided and as a result, made an offensive remark based on what he perceived to be truth. Will he grow up believing that black people are bad? I also struggled with the idea of approaching the school administration to make them aware and perhaps, encourage them to introduce concepts like labeling, inclusiveness, and respecting differences.
This morning I told my son that I was going to meet with his principal to share his experience. I explained that I was not blaming the school principal because it was not her fault. I explained that in order to make things better, we have to make sure people know better. He said “Oh, I know what you mean. Yesterday, I saw that kid in recess…I ran after him—I had to run my fastest, and I told him that I heard what he said about black people”. He said that the kid replied “I wanted that to be a secret”. Then my son said to him “That’s not nice. You shouldn’t judge people by the color of their skin”. “I said it really nice too mom” he proudly shared. I asked him what he did next and he said “I just walked away…but the kid said that he was sorry”.
I’m sure my son learned a valuable lesson and I hope he taught the kid a lesson too. Hopefully, the kid will judge people by their actions and character, but chances are he’ll just be careful who hears him next time.
When he mentioned it to my husband and me, we asked him did he say anything to the student. He told us that the student was not sitting at the same table as him and was not talking to him. He explained that he “overheard” the statement because he has “very good hearing”. I asked him what he thought or felt when he overheard the comment and he said that his thought was “that is so racist”.
Upon further probing, it became apparent that he was confused as to whether or not the statement was an accurate one. We were alarmed that he even considered that the statement could be true. This led us to ask the question “Do you believe what he said?” He replied with a statement even more troubling than his confusion—“Well, I always see black people who rob people on the news.” This undoubtedly, led to a discussion about the dangers associated with stereotyping and pre-judging others. We also discussed the difference between racism and pre-judging.
Lastly and most importantly, we did some “damage control”. Attending a school where 70% of the students are white and only 20% are black—and being the only black male student in your class could definitely make a kid feel isolated. We pointed out that in his experience he has never met a black person who robs people. We reminded him of all of the positive things that are happening in our family. We talked about his uncles, aunts, grandparents, brother, cousins and friends, reminding him of the qualities each exhibits. Then we told him to look at us—his parents, reminding him of the values that we have instilled in him and the methods and means we employ to ensure his physical, emotional, and social well-being.
By the end of our conversation, he had distanced himself from his initial perception. However, I was still concerned about the impact that such a statement could have had if we had not prodded him to share his thoughts. I was also deeply disturbed by the idea that the second grade student who made the statement had been misinformed and/or misguided and as a result, made an offensive remark based on what he perceived to be truth. Will he grow up believing that black people are bad? I also struggled with the idea of approaching the school administration to make them aware and perhaps, encourage them to introduce concepts like labeling, inclusiveness, and respecting differences.
This morning I told my son that I was going to meet with his principal to share his experience. I explained that I was not blaming the school principal because it was not her fault. I explained that in order to make things better, we have to make sure people know better. He said “Oh, I know what you mean. Yesterday, I saw that kid in recess…I ran after him—I had to run my fastest, and I told him that I heard what he said about black people”. He said that the kid replied “I wanted that to be a secret”. Then my son said to him “That’s not nice. You shouldn’t judge people by the color of their skin”. “I said it really nice too mom” he proudly shared. I asked him what he did next and he said “I just walked away…but the kid said that he was sorry”.
I’m sure my son learned a valuable lesson and I hope he taught the kid a lesson too. Hopefully, the kid will judge people by their actions and character, but chances are he’ll just be careful who hears him next time.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Black History Month...Big Deal.
Twenty-eight days. I guess the fact that I’m not impressed makes me ungrateful. Well, I’m still not impressed. Each year during the month of February, kids in schools across America get to hear about Martin Luther King Jr., George Washington Carver, Harriet Tubman, Garrett Morgan and Jackie Robinson. Bulletin boards in schools across the nation are adorned with pictures, artwork, and biographical data in tribute to these and other black historical figures. African American communities host events to celebrate and corporate giants buy radio and television ads to show that they are culturally aware and committed to diversity. There are 365 days in a year and Black History gets 28 of them. Big deal.
I sincerely believe that there was a time—many years ago, when acknowledging Black History for one month really meant something. I’m sure that when Carter G. Woodson started Negro History Week in 1926, he never envisioned that fifty years later, an entire month would be designated to commemorate the history of African Americans. I’m guessing that in 1976, African American parents were elated when their young children came home with a picture of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or were assigned to write a book report on a famous African American person. In 1976, the recognition of Black History month was a sign that our country had taken a huge step in the right direction. The country as a whole had moved from blatant discrimination to tolerance.
I’d like to think that in 1976, the parents of school aged children felt the same kind of pride that I felt when my kindergartener wore his Barack Obama t-shirt to school the day after the 2008 elections. For on that day, we were celebrating something unprecedented. We were celebrating the day that our nation—as a whole moved from mere tolerance to acceptance. Although “acceptance” still implies inferiority (since the person who accepts someone or something is bestowing approval or favor), it still felt like a major hurdle had been crossed.
I think it’s time for our nation to embrace the notion of equality. I subscribe to that notion. If one is an American, he or she should be afforded the same opportunities and privileges as any other American. Carter G. Woodson started Negro History with the dual purpose of getting African Americans to take pride in their worth as a people and getting others to embrace African Americans history as an important part of American History. To achieve the latter, our history must be infused into the history of our country—making every day black history day. As a nation, we have to go beyond the mere shout outs and mentions. We have to shift from the ideal of pacifying a people with trivial acts of tolerance and acceptance and instead, employ the universal ideology that tolerance and acceptance are patronizing at best, and at worst, insulting to the intelligence of the rational man.
I’m not suggesting that we do away with Black History Month, I’m suggesting we work harder at being inclusive and treating every American equally. When that happens, there would no longer be a need for the twenty-eight day garbage time, where second string citizens get to have their moment in the spotlight.
Until then, Happy Black History Month. I’m still not impressed.
I sincerely believe that there was a time—many years ago, when acknowledging Black History for one month really meant something. I’m sure that when Carter G. Woodson started Negro History Week in 1926, he never envisioned that fifty years later, an entire month would be designated to commemorate the history of African Americans. I’m guessing that in 1976, African American parents were elated when their young children came home with a picture of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. or were assigned to write a book report on a famous African American person. In 1976, the recognition of Black History month was a sign that our country had taken a huge step in the right direction. The country as a whole had moved from blatant discrimination to tolerance.
I’d like to think that in 1976, the parents of school aged children felt the same kind of pride that I felt when my kindergartener wore his Barack Obama t-shirt to school the day after the 2008 elections. For on that day, we were celebrating something unprecedented. We were celebrating the day that our nation—as a whole moved from mere tolerance to acceptance. Although “acceptance” still implies inferiority (since the person who accepts someone or something is bestowing approval or favor), it still felt like a major hurdle had been crossed.
I think it’s time for our nation to embrace the notion of equality. I subscribe to that notion. If one is an American, he or she should be afforded the same opportunities and privileges as any other American. Carter G. Woodson started Negro History with the dual purpose of getting African Americans to take pride in their worth as a people and getting others to embrace African Americans history as an important part of American History. To achieve the latter, our history must be infused into the history of our country—making every day black history day. As a nation, we have to go beyond the mere shout outs and mentions. We have to shift from the ideal of pacifying a people with trivial acts of tolerance and acceptance and instead, employ the universal ideology that tolerance and acceptance are patronizing at best, and at worst, insulting to the intelligence of the rational man.
I’m not suggesting that we do away with Black History Month, I’m suggesting we work harder at being inclusive and treating every American equally. When that happens, there would no longer be a need for the twenty-eight day garbage time, where second string citizens get to have their moment in the spotlight.
Until then, Happy Black History Month. I’m still not impressed.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
The Priceless Commodity
It’s gone. Just like that…it’s gone. I had it in the palm of my hands, so many plans. I can’t understand.
It’s wrong. Somehow it feels so wrong. I’d feel better if someone stole it, and I couldn’t control it, but…
I took it for granted. I’m so disenchanted. I’m frantic.
I was warned. I’ll admit that I was warned. Should’ve paid more attention, for it’s gone in an instant. I’m torn. I’m completely torn. My heart feels broken, and I’m not really copin’. I just keep hopin’ that I can retract…somehow, get it back. Simply change the fact.
It really disappeared, I swear! It was right here, and I didn’t know to care. Now, I don’t know where—and I’m in despair. It really doesn’t seem fair!
I’ve got to face it…I wasted it. Misused and abused it. Never knew I would lose it. What I wouldn’t give to re-do it. But it’s gone. That I know for sure. I can never get it back…but I do have some more.
So I’ll move on and live, learn to forgive—my own mistakes, it’s better late…than never, ‘cause “never” is forever.
But from now on,
I’ll treat it with respect instead of neglect, and I’ll be careful about who I select, to spend it with me. After all, it’s a precious commodity—that is hard to find. So I pledge to make the most of my TIME.
It’s wrong. Somehow it feels so wrong. I’d feel better if someone stole it, and I couldn’t control it, but…
I took it for granted. I’m so disenchanted. I’m frantic.
I was warned. I’ll admit that I was warned. Should’ve paid more attention, for it’s gone in an instant. I’m torn. I’m completely torn. My heart feels broken, and I’m not really copin’. I just keep hopin’ that I can retract…somehow, get it back. Simply change the fact.
It really disappeared, I swear! It was right here, and I didn’t know to care. Now, I don’t know where—and I’m in despair. It really doesn’t seem fair!
I’ve got to face it…I wasted it. Misused and abused it. Never knew I would lose it. What I wouldn’t give to re-do it. But it’s gone. That I know for sure. I can never get it back…but I do have some more.
So I’ll move on and live, learn to forgive—my own mistakes, it’s better late…than never, ‘cause “never” is forever.
But from now on,
I’ll treat it with respect instead of neglect, and I’ll be careful about who I select, to spend it with me. After all, it’s a precious commodity—that is hard to find. So I pledge to make the most of my TIME.
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