The White Savior: Benevolent Racism and Bernie Sanders

So presidential hopeful Bernie Sanders has come forth and plainly stated an apology to #BlackLivesMatter was not his doing, and further it was "unnecessary."

Oh for fuck's sake, Bernie...

Look. Bernie has a lot of things going for him. His economic policy, his platform on social welfare, education, environmental concern all have me rooting for him. I think he could affect a lot of positive change for a great many marginalized people, and could over all improve the quality of life for many Americans.

But this IS. NOT. ACCEPTABLE.

Let's break this down, shall we?

Bernie Sanders does not feel an apology is necessary. He feels that based upon his voting and advocacy track record his loyalty should not have been questioned to begin with. He feels he has earned the support of black Americans, that it is a done deal, beyond the scope of reproach or suspicion.

That's white privilege speaking.

Yep, you heard me. He feels he's done enough to engender the support of a body who are actively soliciting his help. He feels he can dismiss those queries and calls to action because he already deserves their aid in his bid for the presidency.

The fact is racism and racist ideology are pervasive even among those who rally to improve lives and to educate themselves on matters of race and white supremacy. It is a continual process to confront these biases in order to grow as an ally (or frankly, to become one to begin with). Prominent social justice warrior and Sci-fi author Dennis R. Upkins has been an invaluable mentor in honing my own critical lens and calling out slip ups and messy racist thinking that has culminated from years of ignorance from never being asked to confront those issues in my own life. When I fuck up, Mr. Upkins hands me my ass (in a loving way, thankfully, because he knows my intentions are good!). But if there is one important lesson he has taught me, it is to own my shit and listen. And that is exactly what Sanders is NOT doing.

By dismissing the protests and entreaties for action, Bernie Sanders is saying "I know better what you need than you do." And THAT is racist, white-supremacist thinking. Do I believe Sanders will address racial injustice with actionable policy? Yes. I do. But it is not because he is truly an ally. He will do so because it makes him feel important to help those "less fortunate." It's white savior mentality at its finest.

For serious, tho.

If Sanders was truly an ally, his response would have been more along the lines of the following:

"I wish to formally apologize to the #BlackLivesMatter movement for

 my alarming unpreparedness in addressing your concerns. Despite my 

track record of advocacy, it is now clear to me that being an ally 

is an ongoing process of addressing biases, confronting your 

own problematic thinking, and actively working to deny the 

privilege that white status affords. And so I offer not only my sincerest 

regrets for my inadequacy, but pledge to educate myself and to learn all I 

can about the realities of this unjust and racially biased system so that 

I may work cooperatively with the #BlackLivesMatter movement to 

combat racism and white supremacy in concrete and actionable policies." 

It really is far less difficult than you might think to admit you screwed up and you need to learn more. It is okay to be wrong. It is not, however, okay to dismiss the needs and voices of a body of people for the sake of your own pride. Nobody asked for a savior, Bernie, especially not a self-entitled, snide, and latently (blatantly?) racist one. Own your shit and listen.

BlackLivesMatter: A White Girl's Rant

#BlackLivesMatter.

They do.

And yet the reaction to this simple phrase, this clear cut expression of the realization of importance for a body that has long been mistreated and exploited is handled as if the very black lives at stake are seeking special treatment or revenge. The movement is perceived and acted upon by both right and leftwing white progressives as if it is the petulant whine of an entitled child.

Ironically enough, that's sheer projection. Why can we not acknowledge, accept, embrace that black lives matter? Because WE are petulant, entitled children.

Nietzche posited that anti-semitism is the ideology of those who feel cheated. In my teaching and social justice endeavors, this construct has been an extremely viable tool for explaining the ideology of the oppressor or attempted oppressor. The body in power resents the drive for equal rights, equal representation, equal respect and dignity to the value of life as somehow threatening their own position in the hierarchy. I earned it, damn it, and I intend to keep it. Know your place. Be grateful for what we've given you. Don't test me.

If others are afforded the same inalienable rights we have always enjoyed, we feel cheated. Cheated out of being speshul snowflakes who are just a bit better than everyone else.

Uh... The whining doesn't help. 

Before anybody gets butt-hurt, I know plenty of white people who work damn hard. I know plenty who are good people, who help others, who strive to be pillars of success and generosity in their communities. But this is not a character judgment, not explicitly. This is brass tacks. The successes and ability to be generous and our wealth or security and upward mobility and the finest schools with the finest teachers and all of that ARE BUILT UPON A SYSTEM IN WHICH SOMEONE MUST BE EXPLOITED AND MARGINALIZED. Not everyone gets the best school, neighborhood, life chances. And those who do not are, plain and simply, people of colors. And within that context, we are disproportionately talking about black lives.

Okay, so you weren't born in the time of slavery. Guess what? Nobody alive was! Crazy, right? But when you view the circumstances into which newly freedmen were forced to survive, it's pretty easy to see how generationally black Americans have had a disproportionately hard time "picking themselves up by their bootstraps" and living the American Dream of prosperity and success. In the south, former Confederates were unwilling but forced to live alongside their former property in a time of dramatic economic despair. Who do you think they blamed? You think all of a sudden former slaves were invited over for barbecues or asked to white children's birthday parties? No. Largely many couldn't even find employment, and when they could they had zero rights protecting reasonable wages so they worked for a fraction of the wages of white workers and even convicts. Millions of people who had been offered no formal education (and precious little informal if they were lucky) could not take on work by virtue of illiteracy in both written word and arithmetic, so were relegated to domestic and manual labor. Given the long hours and low pay, this type of work did not offer them the opportunity to devote energy nor resources to bettering those circumstances. Sound familiar yet? In the north, they seldom fared much better, though by comparison it was easier going. What is little known among the population en masse is Abolitionists who strove for equality were few and far between (and why they are the most notable). Many abolitionists considered slavery no more than a basic human rights issue in that humans could not own other humans. That did not equate to wanting to befriend them, employ them, educate them, nor partake in any other interaction. Others had rallied to free slaves in hopes they could be shipped back to their continent of origin (or their parents' or grandparents' continent of origin). In short, blacks were not welcome. Work was still, as in the south, largely relegated to domestic and manual labor. 

From the end of reconstruction into the early 20th century, the U.S. did experience a nadir of race relations in which mostly northerners called for civil rights. During this period the economy improved, blacks had a modicum of upward mobility, they were allowed to hold public office, and even the governor of Mississippi who held office multiple times was married to a black woman. Unfortunately, this reach toward equality was stunted by the same old trope: 'We're being cheated.' Films like Birth of a Nation and to a lesser extent Gone with the Wind painted a romanticized version of a fairy tale south that was, yes, cheated out of its glory. Whether the initial hatred was intended for black Americans could be argued, but the results most clearly could not be. Angry, entitled southerners looked for an outlet for their rage against the north, knowing full well how futile and helpless they would be in armed conflict, and how swiftly judgment would fall upon violence perpetrated against whites. And so black Americans once again were lynched, murdered, and systematically removed from public office, decent schooling, living wages, livable housing, and even the possibility of being heard politically. 

From there, we are typically more familiar with history. Jim Crow and the reversal of progress toward racial equality led to the building and manifestation of the 1960s Civil Rights movement. We saw different camps with the same message: Black Lives Matter. Through the works of Malcom X, Dr. King, and countless others putting their very lives on the line to organize, demonstrate, fight back, arm themselves, the Civil Rights Act finally passed in 1964 and the Voting Rights Act in 1965. Yay! All better, right?

Wrong. Do you realize it took 100 bleeding years of struggle for black Americans to even have the opportunity to be federally recognized as deserving of equal rights? But it literally took an act of Congress to do it. Congress is not the general population. Nor is the POTUS. Since then the U.S. has put in a number of legislative bills to try to level the playing field. But that's just it. It's never been level. From the moment those pieces of legislation were signed into law, black Americans have been playing catch up in a system designed to cater to white Americans. It's like riding a bike on the highway. No matter how safely you maneuver or how kind those around you are, it was not built for bikes. You are in way more danger no matter what you do to protect yourself. 

Respectability politics anyone?

So do me a big favor and let this sink in: #BlackLivesMatter is not about an ex- you're trying to make up with who keeps bringing up that time you cheated on them so you feel perpetually guilty and obligated to treat them super-special and buy them flowers and chocolates and rub their feet. #BlackLivesMatter is about an abusive relationship in which the battered partner has had enough and says "Guess what motherfucker, I hit back."

And they should. 

Too Quiet: If it's not one thing it's another!

Many of you know my family has been going through a lot of transitions, including a major move. We have been in our new house now for nearly a month, and I have had the internet now for about two weeks. So you might be wondering why I have been so silent as of late.

Well, first things first. Moving is an exhausting undertaking. For the first two weeks in our new home, I didn't sleep more than 4 hours a night, and spent the entirety of my waking hours painting, lifting, building, cleaning, arranging, juggling service people and appointments, and generally running around town for necessities as they popped up. We got a tremendous amount of work done, and it has paid off beautifully. My daughter officially has the Hulk room she requested (more on that in a before & after DIY update post to come), and my doggie loves her giant yard. But there is a list a mile long of things we still plan to tackle, including a master bath remodel, cultivating the entire backyard area into an outdoor living space, and taking down the popcorn ceilings. Though I'm sleeping more a night now, we've been keeping beyond busy.

In addition to the chaos that is adjusting to a new house/town, I have also accepted a new position working at a progressive private school teaching Sociology, British Literature, World Literature and (of all things) drama (I told you I wore many hats!). I am in love with the school. From being housed in an actual house to encourage students to feel comfortable in their learning environment, to the focus on collaboration and healthy risk-taking instead of competition and hierarchy, this is the place for me. Obviously though, that's a lot of prep work. Having only ever really taught Sociology, and having been a loooooong time since I taught at the high school level, it's been a challenge to lesson plan and cultivate ideas. Luckily for me that's fun work, but work nonetheless. And with the new job (which is technically part time allowing me to work from home on my schedule except for in-class hours), it has necessitated another challenge: finding affordable childcare.

I could probably swing this guy. 

If you have children and don't stay home with them (and even if you do if you've ever needed a sitter), you know that childcare is a racket. Finding something affordable, flexible, AND well-run with good curriculum is like finding a unicorn. The conundrum: I could use child care 4 days a week, but I only really need childcare 3 days a week for a couple hours each day. Unfortunately, those days are not your run of the mill Monday/Wednesday/Friday. I need Monday/Wednesday/Thursday. So many places were inflexible about the days of the week. The truly worthwhile places cost an arm and a leg. The okay places we would have to shell out extra money for five days a week we wouldn't even use! And trust me, I wouldn't use it if we didn't need to. I'm not ready to completely give up weekdays with my daughter. I've mentioned in previous posts that I suffer from anxiety disorders. At this point in time in my life, I am fortunate to have developed valuable coping mechanisms, practicing grounding techniques and avoiding triggers when possible. Generally I suffer far less now than I have at times in the past. But boy oh boy did the school stress trigger it. Every "no," every time I'd find a place I liked that was flexible and heard the exorbitant price tag, I lost it a little more. I began questioning whether it was even worth it to have a job if I was going to be funneling all the extra money I made into paying for childcare that I wouldn't need if I wasn't working! But finally... we found the place. Great curriculum including STEM. They teach Spanish. They have art and P.E. and even take field trips. They have short school days (8:00-3:15) which is all I need. AND... Their 4 day a week program is nearly half the cost of everywhere else. Relief! I don't want to pay for time I don't need, but having the extra day to work means I will have to spend less time working when my daughter is with me or after she's in bed. Built in planning time. I'll take it.

And as if that craziness is not enough, a little under a month ago, my body had a strange reaction. I have a history of hormonal issues and endometriosis, so when I began feeling pain and unusual symptoms, I guessed it had to with stress. About 11 days in, I was instructed to double my birth control pills for 3 days. After I found no relief and felt the pain increase, I finally got into see a specialist on day 17 for a sonogram and evaluation. Turns out the estrogen in my birth control which had been bumped up 7 months ago for medical reasons was causing my endometrial lining to thicken. At the time of the appointment, it was twice the thickness it should be which, compounded with endometriosis, was the source of the pain and unusual symptoms. Basically, my first self-diagnosis was correct: my uterus had staged a coup and was trying to take over my body. After being told it literally would not stop (like... ever), I was instructed to immediately cease taking birth control and was scheduled for surgery. It's still 3 days away, and even on prescription pain medication I've been fetal more than a few times. I'm doing my best to carry on day to day (swim lessons and tea parties and dance-a-thons with three year olds don't happen on their own!), but the effort is exhausting. Usually by the time I get to the point in time I could write, I have had no energy or focus. Just a few more days and I will hopefully be able to get back to writing regularly. I can't BELIEVE how much I have missed discussing.

Thanks everyone for your patience and well-wishes. And don't worry...

An American Problem: Sinister Issues of Race and Accountability

Today, following the grisly shooting and murders of 9 black members of the historic Emanual African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, Dylann Roof was apprehended. 

Nice bowl cut, jackass.

Considering the nature of his violent and admittedly race-motivated actions ("You've raped our women and you've taken over the country... This must be done."), the collective sigh of relief that he is in custody was palpable. The lives he ripped away from those 9 worshippers in the midst of the most peaceable and selfless thing a person can do is a horrifying reminder that racism is no less violent and threatening than it has been throughout history. 

But there is another insidious reminder that racism is alive and well. And that is that Dylann Roof is alive and well. 

In 2015 alone, there have been over 550 people killed by police officers. Some of these happened in the line of duty, some very certainly did not, but even those who were in many cases were questionable. But the frightening thing is PoCs are disproportionately represented in the numbers of those killed. According to nonprofit initiative Mapping Police Violence, in 2014 there were 304 black individuals killed by police. In 2014, black people were three times more likely than whites to be killed by police. At least 101 of those killed in 2014 were unarmed. None of the officers who killed black people on-duty were convicted of a crime. And in case you don't think it's an American problem, Canada has a higher black population than Missouri (11.7% in the last census) and had only one black person killed nationwide. 

And that's not including other PoCs. 

So two-thirds of the black individuals killed by police in 2014 were unarmed. UNARMED. And yet a white serial killer, a known threat especially with a gun and armed at the time of arrest, was apprehended alive and unharmed. 

Alive. And unharmed. Let that sink in. 

I am not advocating that he should have been shot on sight, but in far too many cases that is exactly what has happened, and the only major distinction is race. 

Well that, and the fact that almost none of the violence (maybe even legitimately none) perpetrated by the offenders included the massacre of 9 people. In many cases it involved no violence at all. 

But a pack of cigarillos or wearing a hoodie is definitely scarier

than a confirmed killer. Because, you know, black. 

And it doesn't stop there. There has already begun with widespread media and whitesplainers all over social media: Well he was obviously mentally ill. Oh was he? Is that why this lone wolf attacked these innocent people? 

It couldn't be because of the violence-loving white supremacist acculturation he was indoctrinated into. No way. Because that would mean other white people were possibly to blame on a cultural level. That Donald Trump making very similar comments about Mexicans could be culpable. That Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck's hatespeech is internalized and impactful in a material way among a population of white America. 

And yet when PoCs commit crimes (or hell, even fall victim to crimes), their actions are viewed through a lens of gang culture, socialized propensity for violence and hypersexualization. Trayvon Martin was a thug. The kids at the McKinney pool party were unruly animals. Transwomen of colors are disproportionately murdered, but y'know, they were "streetwalkers" or "hustlers" or "prostitutes," so... 

See, because white people are in a position of power, they tend to guide the narrative. It's called hegemony. The point of any power class is to maintain the status quo-- staying in power. Therefore the characterization of white offenders revolves around mental illness or abuse endured in youth or other mitigating circumstances that separate the offenders from whiteness or cultural complicity. The narrative humanizes white people by making them individuals and dehumanizes PoCs by avoiding details that disassociate them from race/ethnicity and culture. It makes it far too easy for people to buy into the scripts of white racial superiority. The bad guy isn't one of us. He's a psychopath. Unless the bad guy is a PoCs. Then he's a product of culture. 

My heart is pained and I am grieving for the families and community of those who met their end at the hands of this vile human being. But I am also grieving for a country whose racist underpinnings are so deeply rooted that this man believed he was acting for the good of others. I am grieving for a country in which a significant portion of the population fears for their lives, even from police, because of the pigment of their skin. I am grieving for the children who are already pegged as "less than" because their body produces more melanin. 

Rest in power.

Senator Rev. Clementa C. Pinckney

Rev. Sharonda Singleton

Myra Thompson

Tywanza Sanders

Ethel Lee Lance

Cynthia Hurd

Rev. Daniel L. Simmons Sr.

Rev. DePayne Middleton-Doctor

Susie Jackson

The Miseducation of Rachel Dolezal

By now just about everyone has heard about the controversy surrounding Rachel Dolezal, the NAACP President of the Spokane Washington Chapter who was just discovered to be white. Dolezal would hardly be the first white individual to hold a leadership position within the NAACP. Further, we all just celebrated Caitlyn Jenner's revelation of self-defined identity. Not to mention Dolezal didn't exactly opt for a position that affords more privilege. So what's the big deal?

Firstly, she lied. Lied by omission, lied by fabricating evidence to bolster her claim of blackness, lied by appropriating styles that are conscripted by society as being representative of black racial identity with the purpose of being presumed black. If being white was not an issue in terms of barring her from her work with the NAACP, then her disguise served no purpose other than making her feel more comfortable at the expense of legitimate black experience and struggles. PoCs are born into a social system in which race has material affects on their lives. Hate crimes are not a fantasy. Prejudice is not an abstract frustration. Lack of access politically, educationally, socially, in employment, and in so many other areas is not an idea of whimsy and wonder. This is reality. And that's where Dolezal's privilege shows. At any point, she could have stopped what she was doing, slipped out the back door, gone blonde, stopped tanning and *POOF* white lady, with all the access that affords. PoCs do not have that choice.

But there are people who pass for white! you say? Yes. Some. And that choice, the choice to live with privilege or deny it becomes a matter of conscience. But there are ways in which a person passing for white is different than a person passing for black. Passing for white doesn't threaten white people because white status is a position of power. If a PoC has the ability to live with the privilege of whiteness in the eyes of society, white people are basically saying "It's okay, you're one of us. We accept you. Come join the party." It's complicated, but only for the individual faced with the choice of accepting or rejecting the privilege that assumed whiteness brings. On the other hand, white people posturing as PoCs are encroaching upon an identity that historically has been one of struggle, exploitation and dehumanization at the hands of white people, and that is usurping an identity that is also relatively less powerful by contrast. It is therefore extremely problematic to just assume "hey, I feel black so I'm black now." Dolezal's struggles are not the struggles of institutionalized racism and systemic violence against her for her racial and ethnic identity. There is no way for her to understand what that reality is like, no matter how many people she fooled. Again, she could walk away. She had an out.

Which is why this is okay...

...But this is absolutely not.

But Caitlyn Jenner! you say. If Caitlyn Jenner can decide to change her outward reality, why can't Dolezal do the same? Good question. I'll start by discussing what gender means. Gender is a socially constructed concept that defines how a person identifies along a spectrum of masculine to feminine to neither to both. Our definitions for this gender or that are based upon cultural and traditional norms which evolve over time and are dependent upon our communities of association. In the 19th century boys wore pink to show status. High heels were originally designed for men to make them taller and were abandoned when women began to wear them to look more masculine. Regardless of your physical body, your likes and dislikes and activities and behaviors may be considered more or less masculine/feminine depending on the era, and those variables create your gender identity. Your gender identity is where you place yourself on the spectrum based on how you feel. Like it or not, it is fluid and ever-changing. The choices to pursue surgery or otherwise cosmetically or aesthetically change one's outward appearance among transmen and women are no different than any other elective surgeries or procedures or even hairstyles or makeup for cismen and women. It is how we express our gender identity, our feelings about where we self-define, and it helps others to see us in the same light.

But race now. Race is also a socially constructed concept as there is no biological or genetic difference between races. There are no subgroups or DNA mismatches. Our basic makeup as human beings is identical. So race is how society has chosen to categorize people based upon common physical characteristics among groups, most notably skin color. This has been done as far back into recorded history as we can find. Historically, different races have been exploited or dehumanized, abused and discriminated against rationalized by everything from junk science to political or economic motives. And specifically in our country, black Americans predominantly find their history in the West-African slave trade. Even those who do not have experienced the ramifications. Reformation, the Ku Klux Klan, lynchings, segregation, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Movement, fire hoses, rejection from places of business, slurs, fear for their safety, even fear from officers of the law who should be protecting them. You don't get to just pick that identity because of your feelings. It simply doesn't work that way. It is not your place to say you belong. Not now. Not ever.

But I think my biggest issue is this: in attempting to "change race," she not only adopted styles mimicking what she saw commonly among black women, she conflated race with culture. She attempted to "act black." How exactly does one "act black"? When you ask yourself that question, you can immediately see why her changes in behavior to fit in are problematic. The only way to act black is to BE BLACK. If you are black then however you are acting is acting black. Anyone who is NOT black and attempting to "act black" is choosing behaviors informed by stereotypes.

Further, there are ways to be an effective traitor to your race and the internalized racial scripts our society lives with without pretending you're not white. The disguise is indicative of race shame and guilt, neither of which are useful in deconstructing inequality. Step one of being a white ally: Own your shit. Admit your privilege and the ways you benefit from it. Admit that your starting line is just a little closer to the finish line than many of the other racers. And then actively seek to reject that privilege. Don't take advantage of it when you have a choice. Point out when someone is catering to your privilege and ask them not to. Speak up when you see injustice. Listen more than you talk. Don't make it about you. Dolezal did a lot of good for the NAACP and PoCs. But she could have done a lot more by not pretending to be something she was not. Allies are important to the cause too, and transparency is critical.

The Bones of this House: Saying Goodbye to Move On

In two days I will be leaving my very first house.

This exodus, from a town I have resided for over a decade and this simple little building, is vital. For the last several years I have felt stifled and alienated as my friends have moved away, my plans for education and professional pursuit have changed dramatically, and the area has offered little in the way of viable opportunities for personal progress. The move will offer better employment opportunities, a change of scenery and fresh eyes, and all surrounded by family and friends. New adventures await and I am invigorated by the very chance, the sheer serendipity that allowed my family this moment to play out.

Three weeks now have been spent in harried chaos: making repairs, painting, upgrading, packing, showing our house, more repairs, lots of driving, viewing homes, making bids, taking rejections, thinking we got a house and having to relinquish the contract after inspection, more viewings, more bids, more packing, monkey wrenches, and trying to squeeze in time with the few remaining people I see here with any degree of regularity. We have had limited sleep and limited comfort. Boxes have been piled in our garage and throughout our house. Moving is considered among the top three most stressful common things people go through, along with death and divorce. Communicating that to my three year old child has been an added challenge, as order and stability are important to feelings of comfort and confidence in children. Having an anxiety disorder, I have certainly felt the weight of this particularly hectic limbo.

But as I look around me this morning with the empty rooms and boxes mostly removed, at the kitchen with disposable plates and plasticware, a vacant closet aside from a pair of shoes and a couple days' worth of clothes and nothing further to really do until it's time to go, everything is peaceful. And for the first moment since we made the decision to move, I think about what all I am leaving behind.

In six and a half years in this house, there has been more literal blood, sweat, and tears than I could have possibly fathomed when they handed us the keys. Two months after we closed, my husband and I married. We used our honeymoon money to renovate what we could on our house, all DIY. New paint, new fixtures, a giant facelift on a budget. I finished my bachelor's degree that summer where I met an instructor who became one of my best friends. I worked a social service job and was traumatized by a child-offender against his mother while attempting a home visit. I went back to graduate school. I  learned I found joy in teaching. I began my first academic research foray into gender and sexual identity from a social justice research perspective. My beautiful niece was born, and the same day I discovered I was pregnant. My pregnancy became a running joke about whether my thesis or pregnancy due date would come first. I published my first peer-reviewed literature. We welcomed our little girl. I met Monica Roberts, a prominent and brilliant advocate for transgender rights who became a friend and hero and shaped my future advocacy profoundly. I defended my thesis. I graduated with my Master's in Sociology and started doctoral work. One of two best friends married the love of her life. I suffered postpartum depression, which led to over a year separated from my husband. My daughter took her first steps, said her first word, got her first teeth in this home. I experienced heartbreak I was unprepared for at the hands of malicious colleagues which led to a drastic decline in my health. I suffered a near-fatal adrenal failure. My other best friend married her long-time boyfriend. I was awarded the 2014 Ally of the Year honor by a national transgender advocacy and resource nonprofit. I made the hardest decision of my life and walked away from academia for my family and my health. I went through the grueling process of self-deconstruction to figure out who I was without that huge piece of my identity. And I began the healing process of putting myself back together. 

And just yesterday, my best friend gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy you've ever seen. Life renewed.

When realtors and renovators use housing lingo, they talk about the bones of a house. What they mean is the very structure, the load-bearing beams, the layout, the general flow of the actual building. But as I leave these particular bones, I am reminded of something more. This house has breathed with us. Cried with us. Laughed with us. It has protected us. It has been kind to us. It has been the one consistent and steadfast thing in our lives since we took ownership. And I don't think you can really leave something like that behind. The house is a part of us now, just like we are a part of it. It is family. And no matter where we go, there will always be a gratitude for our very first home.

Goodbye house. Thank you for everything.

Wisdom of the (Young) Ages: Life Lessons from a 3-Year-Old

Some of you may remember the letter I penned to my daughter outlining things I wished for her future in this uncertain world. I shared what wisdom I could from my accumulated years in hopes it would someday help her and maybe others. But the truth of the matter is my daughter has taught me more than I have ever taught her. While I have guided her through proper hand-washing techniques and left and right, a little adding and subtracting, to recognize letters and sounds, to say please and ask in a nice tone, she has opened my eyes to the beautiful way children see and experience the world. I'm here to tell you, they're some valuable lessons for adults. I'd like to share a few of her pearls of wisdom with you now. 

The nugget in her natural state.

1. We define ourselves. 
A few days ago before napping together, my bitty girl was telling me about her blankie, Night-Night. She told me Night-Night was a girl. I asked how she knew Night-Night was a girl. She paused, then responded "I don't know. I wiw ask her. Night-Night, are you a girl?" Night-Night (in a high pitched version of my daughter's voice) answered "Yes, I a girl." She then turned to me and said "She's a girl. She said so." We should respect the way others define themselves. If you expect someone to take you at your word and honor it, whether it is with a declaration of faith or profession or fandom or any socially defined role, you should do the same for others. 

2. Cool is not really cool. You do you. 
I once asked my daughter if she was cool. She promptly replied, "No, I just funny." When I asked if it was better to be funny or be cool, she took no time in shouting "Funny!" I have tried to teach her about different ways of describing personality over time to improve her vocabulary and emotional intelligence in identifying and evaluating. But one of my far and away favorite things about her is her conviction about not being labeled. When I ask if she is a superhero, a princess, a helper, a baby, a big girl, a comedian, a maniac, or any number of other roles, she typically answers, "No, I just Skyla." She doesn't claim to be anything other than herself, and she doesn't feel bad about defining herself just as she is. And to me, that's cooler than cool. 

3. Don't take yourself too seriously.
As anyone who has spent time with small children knows, kids don't have a filter. They call it like they see it. I am a recovering perfectionist having spent much of my life fretting over whether people liked me or not, whether I was good enough, whether I was the best, hung up on ever real and perceived imperfection. With a kiddo, that's out the window. "Mommy can I blow dry your hair? You have crazies." "Mommy, you have a BIG belly!" "Mommy you're squishy." "Mommy stop singing. STAHP." "Mommy is bad at throwing." Ouch. And these are within the past two days. It's a pretty perpetual reality check. But I also get to see her creating magical spaces in a diaper and rain boots, singing at the top of her lungs and making up tunes with zip for vocal control (my husband and I were both trained singers and musicians, so it's pretty hilarious), oohing and ahing over how beautiful she looks in her "pretties" (play jewelry) and hand-picked ensembles when nothing matches and her hair is a rat's nest... And you know what? I don't think less of her. I think her quirks are the best. She doesn't see failings, she just takes every little thing in stride. Good, bad, and ugly. I want to be more like her. 

4. Anti-bullying is the hero-maker.
When teaching a three-year-old about social issues and matters that will come up sooner rather than later in their lives, you must be able to communicate on their level. Basically, it has to be simple. Accessible. I was reading one of my daughter's favorite books to her ("A is for Activist"), and we got to the letter X which was Malcom X. When she asked me who he was, my mind flashed with all the complex and nuanced sociopolitical events and statements that dictated his public persona and personal conviction and thought how in the world was I going to convey that to a three-year-old? So I started slowly, and it finally dawned on me: he stood up to bullies and inspired others to stand up to bullies too. Through Black History Month, Hispanic American Heritage Month, and Women's History Month as promos cropped up to teach young ones about influential individuals in our history, I found this theme resonated over and over. The act of standing up against a bully, whether on a personal or systemic level, is an act of courage and heroism. My daughter told me quite earnestly she thinks Malcom X is a superhero and lists him among The Avengers since they help people too.  

5. Magic is real.
Recently, after sharing a fun and imaginative activity I want to do to inspire my daughter's creativity, a good friend asked me what in the world my daughter was going to do when she was grown up and moves out. With all the magic I create for her, my friend told me, if she were my daughter she'd never leave. While it was a truly rewarding sentiment to share, my goal is not to create an alternate plane of existence for my little girl. My goal is to remind her that magic is real. She taught me that. From in infancy staring in awe at a ceiling fan in motion to delighting at finding items for the fairy house we built to creating "pictures" by shaping the foods she eats to her sincere inclusion of unicorns and witches and fairies and princesses and talking ponies and friendly monsters side by side real animals and people, she has shown me the world is what we believe it to be and we see what we look for. If we believe in magic we can find it. This doesn't mean we should live in a fantasy world-- reality must be acknowledged and treated as such. But there are so many incredibly, fearfully wonderful things to see and experience if we know how to look. 

6. Patience is a virtue, and it is really, really important. 
While I have been writing this post, I have had an overly-tired three-year-old (out of town birthday party today with no nap) asking me to play, requesting voice overs for dialogue between Thor and Iron Man, climbing on me, rolling in my lap, offering me snacks, making noise to make noise, lifting my hair up to tell me secrets with no decrease in volume, making "toot sounds," and grabbing my hands to play "crazy cakes" (her own special version of patty cakes involving manic and chaotic flailing of hands together). And yet, I have not fussed. If she has done something inappropriate ("Sweetheart, hands out of your mouth. That's gross. You know better."), I address it calmly and move on. I do the voices. I dole out kisses and hugs. I let her climb and roll insofar as I can keep my computer out of the line of fire. And I keep pressing forward and writing. She is not doing these things to annoy me or frustrate me. She doesn't give a flying rat's ass about my blog. She doesn't know what a blog is. She just loves me. She wants my attention. She wants to show affection and play. I don't ever want her to think I am too busy for her. I may have to keep it succinct at times, but she is too valuable to me to ignore (even for all of you lovely readers!). 

I continue to learn more from her every day. This post only scratches the surface. Pay attention to the children in your life. There is so much to learn, and your life will be all the richer for it. 

"Mommy, I a LUNATRIX!"