Please shut up!

Excuse what is probably about to be a disjointed rant, but I need to work through a few things. If you are a regular reader, you may recall that I was dealing with a staff shortage at my job and needed to do some hiring. Well, I did hire some folks but to be honest I am scratching my head. Maybe I am showing my age, but what is it about the current state of society that makes folks just get diarrhea of the mouth? Diarrhea is described as a condition of excessive frequent and loose bowel movements. As of late I keep running across folks who seem to have this condition when it comes to talking…its uncontrollable and apparently no one ever told them that over sharing is a bad thing. In fact over sharing with people who employ you is a really bad thing.

Case in point, one of my new staffers on her first day decided to prattle on about her broken computer going so far as to ask if I could be a reference so that she can rent a computer. Um…OK. I admit it was awkward after all this was her first day at the job, she is in the probationary period but I said what the fuck. I admit it was also awkward when she called me one day asking about the local library (what the fuck do I look like the damn welcoming committee?) but today her loose lips almost made me want to punch her in the grill.

My organization held a fundraiser and staff and board members were taking part, and well I overheard a conversation that made me think oh shit! My new staffer was telling the board member about her kids, both who have serious issues and going on and on about how she had been married interracially, the challenges, etc it was really a rather inappropriate conversation to have with someone who doesn’t know you.

This was coupled with my other new staff person telling me and a board member how much the kids like her because well… she is great. No, I am not kidding that is what she said, at first I thought she was kidding but then I remembered she actually said how great she is yesterday. Maybe it’s my age but last I checked walking around saying folks just love me because I am great is one of those social no-no’s.

Mind you in my line of work I encounter people on a regular basis who share details of their lives that frankly I don’t need to know. I also have a few personal friends who are prone to over sharing and frankly unless you are a close friend I don’t need to know about your sex life, poor finances, drug habits or any of that. I was raised that the only people you share such intimate details with are folks who share your bed, some family members and friends that might as well be family members. I know as women we like to share intimate details but telling another woman how well your man satisfies you in bed is really a bad idea. Not to say you can’t trust your friends but I learned the hard way years ago when a girlfriend decided to hit on my then ex boyfriend. After all I had shared some details about him that made him quite attractive, thankfully my ex-boyfriend was a good guy and told her to push off but still I doubt she would have tried to hit on him in the first place if I hadn’t offered up such juicy details. The friend in question is still in my life but I keep my intimate details to myself.

In some ways I think our current use of social media has helped break down what used to be good ole fashioned common sense. I mean we can log onto Facebook and share every and any thing with folks; I have a few folks on Facebook who I have had to hide because I do not want nor need to know all those details about you. I don’t think that it’s a coincidence that many of the folks I know who are prone to over sharing online have struggled in finding jobs. Hello!!!! Perspective employers today are using social media to check you out and guess what it can come back to bite you in the ass. There have been many pieces written about this and despite the fact that many HR professionals admit that they do Google perspective candidates, we still have folks who just get online diarrhea and continue to over share.

I admit it is tempting to over share especially online yet I always keep in mind that I never want to post anything that can come back to bite me in the ass and that my online persona is exactly the same as the me you can meet in real life. So for me if I am not willing to babble all the details of my life if we were face to face, why do it online? Look, sharing ourselves with others is a great way to connect with other people but there is a fine line between sharing and over sharing. If ever the voice in your head says shut up…guess what? It may be time to shut up.

Edited to add, whenever someone over shares or worse yet gets nosy with me I am tempted to start singing that line from Ludacris “Get back muthafucker, you don’t know me like that”  Yeah, it’s probably childish but that line does say something when you stop and think about it.

The White Man Can’t Save You

I swear people must think Black women are some of the most pathetic creatures on the planet. Every where I turn I am bombarded with media images that seem to say we are sad and lonely or else we are sex crazed hoes who are thinking with our vaginas and not our brains and thus contributing to the planet’s overpopulation problem. I guess the only happy Black women on the planet are First Lady Michelle Obama and the queen of daytime talk Oprah Winfrey. Actually  there are plenty of happy well adjusted Black women, but if we focused our images on these happy Black women I guess nobody could earn any cash exploiting those of us with fears and insecurities.

The newest self help remedy for college educated Black women is apparently to get a white man. In the last year or so it seems there has been an increase in the number of writers and self help folks suggesting that for the lonely Black woman waiting for her Black knight in shining armor that what she really needs is a White knight in shining armor…frankly its starting to annoy me.

Now I know there are some who may say, wait a damn minute the name of this blog is Black Girl in Maine? A name like that pretty much might be a tip off to the fact that since I live in very white state, there is a good chance that I have a white partner. Yep, I do. I have been married to the resident white man going on 13 years so many might ask how dare I talk shit about Black chicks hooking up with white men. Truth is anyone who has read my blog any length of time knows that I am not a cheerleader for interracial pairings. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband, our kids and my life but the truth is interracial relationships require a lot of work. Frankly all relationships require work but when merging two ethnicities together to create a family, especially when those two groups bring great historical baggage it is not something to do lightly.

I am all for relationships that happen naturally, in my case. I had sworn off white men after a brief marriage in my late teens to a white man that produced my son and one of the most acrimonious divorces ever. Yet God and the universe decided to play a joke on me since I said I was done with white men, my current husband was brought into my life 15 years ago. We were co-workers who often chatted at the water cooler, and the truth is I didn’t see him as anything but a work buddy. In fact when he asked me out on a date, I said hell fucking naw. Only saving grace for the Spousal Unit was the fact my mom said hey why not? So I said, why not?, I didn’t have any plans that weekend besides the man did ask me out in a beautifully written letter (my hubby is a writer) and included a pound of coffee beans. (He knew my passion and vice was good coffee) So I said why not and the rest is history. No, we did not fall head over heels in love but we are both children of the working class and have personalities that are complimentary.

I am sure a few of you are saying well that sounds good, why shouldn’t another sista have that? The fact is despite how good we are together, the nastiest arguments we have ever had to the point of threatening our relationship and our family have almost always centered around issues of race. Early in our relationship, he lost people he had considered friends and while our families have more or less accepted the other it was still an adjustment. It’s often the day to day shit that causes problems. Racism is a fact of life and there are times here in Maine and back in Chicago when I come home after encountering shit and he just can’t get it. There have been times in raising our daughter when things have come up and he had to work very hard to get it.

One of the degrees I hold is in African American studies and there were times many years ago that the deeper I went into my research that it took a lot not to get pissed at the Spousal Unit. I wanted to become a professor of African American studies but for the sake of our family I had to let it go. Maybe I am an asshole but I could not study what I was studying and come home and sleep next to a white man without giving him the side eye.

I just read this piece that gave what I considered rather superficial reasons for dating white men, in many ways white men have far more advantages than Black and other minority men there is no denying that. On the other hand those advantages came at the expense of others. To put it plainly, white men got a head start in this society. Hell, even my husband who hails from working class roots acknowledges that. Our fathers were both blue collar workers yet my father in law thanks to his union supporting him and a few other breaks that white guys get was able to create wealth in the form of real estate whereas my father who at one point was a teamster got jack and was always the last guy hired, first guy to be let go.

It is my opinion that interracial relations can work but they require both partners to have the willingness to get emotionally raggedy when it comes to issues of race and be willing to do the heavy lifting. I have known more than a few white folks who frankly are not willing to acknowledge their own privilege and for the Black partner in those cases they simply must become a white person in Black skin lest they threaten the relationship.

Look, at the end of the day, date whoever you want to date and love who you want to love. But to seek out a specific group because we see them as the cure for all that ails us is well frankly silly. Yes, that white man may not have any baby mamas, a jail record and is gainfully employed but you need to enter such relationships with your eyes wide open.

If I were to give dating/love advice to a single Black woman I would say love yourself, find happiness within you and generally when we are happy things happen.

Follow up…tackling a problem

In my last post, I was blogging for the online blitz No Wedding, No Womb organized by blogger Christelyn Karazin. I admit it was something I decided to do at the last minute however my decision to participate was questioned by a few real life friends and after much thought I have decided a second post was in order. Since the online campaign hit the internet and now the airwaves, there have been many who have questioned the idea that Black folks getting married will solve the out of wedlock issue that affects the Black community. In some ways to merely say get married is a rather simplistic response to a rather real and serious problem. One of the questions being tossed around in the twitterverse after this online blitz has been what do we do next? In order to answer that question though and truly come up with meaningful solutions I think we must go back and look at what are the issues that have brought us to the point where the vast majority of African American children are born out of wedlock.

To attempt to answer that question, I decided to pull out one of my favorite books by Black sociologist William Julius Wilson “When Work Disappears: The New World of the Urban Poor” this book was published in 1996 and I think that much of what Wilson discusses remains just as salient now as when this book was published. Much of his research in this book was focused in Chicago which regular readers know happens to be my hometown so in using his text to discuss the issues I also feel a personal connection having been raised in Chicago.

In the first chapter of this book Wilson records the voices of Blacks on the city’s south and west sides where the vast majority of Blacks in Chicago live (note, its an area that I am personally familiar with as my Grandmother lived on the south side for over 40+ years until her death several years ago). A question was posed to respondents in his study of whether or not their communities had changed? Most said yes and that the change was for the worse. The biggest change being around the fact that there was a lack of jobs in the community which resulted in a rise of poverty in these same communities. (p. 15 In sum, the 1970s and 1980s witnessed a sharp growth in the number of census tracts defined as ghetto poverty areas, an increased concentration of the poor in these areas, and sharply divergent patterns of poverty concentration between racial minorities and whites.)

Let’s think about that for second it’s a known fact that going back to the 1970’s and 1980’s there was a surge in poverty concentrated among minorities specifically Blacks. When did we start to see an increase in out of wedlock births among Blacks? Now I am not about to look it up but thinking back I am almost certain the out of wedlock rates started to increase around the same time. I also know that in the 1980’s in the Black community we also saw an increase in drug usage and sales particularly with the introduction of crack cocaine. We also know that eventually we would see drug laws put on the books that would effectively send Blacks who dabbled in crack cocaine to prison for much longer terms than whites who dealt in just cocaine. See where I am going? A frame work going back as far as the 1970’s and specifically the 1980’s was laid that would impact us now in 2010.

As I am not trying to write an academic piece here I will say that Wilson goes on in deep detail in his book to capture the impact of joblessness on the Black community. In Chicago it meant seeing good jobs move from the city where the high paying were accessible to having them located in suburban areas where they were not always accessible for a number of reasons. I saw it in my own family, my Granny’s company relocated from downtown Chicago to the suburbs and eventually moved out of state. She took another similar manufacturing type job in the suburbs that required a daily commute of two hours a day and paid substantially less, she worked that job until about two years before her death at age 77.

Something as seemingly small as lack of work has the ability to change the entire structure of a community. The community effectively creates its own way of operating that differentiates from the greater community and norms, I think in the past decades this is what we are seeing with the rise of out of wedlock births.  The reality is people are not going to stop being sexual beings yet the reality is in the Black community we often have issues talking openly about sex. Many women grew up with mothers, grandmothers, and aunts whose idea of sex education was to tell you to keep your panties up and your skirt down. I suspect that we are still not doing a great job even in 2010 of talking sex when we have women like Oprah Winfrey who still refers to vaginas as va jay jay’s. My mother did a better job of talking about sex with me than her mother but the truth is it was not enough. I think that due to historical imagery of Black women as loose wanton women, many of us find it hard to have real discussions about sex for fear that we play into racial stereotypes about Black women.

I see the issue of out of wedlock births in the Black community as being about many issues, lack of meaningful employment, and lack of hope….most of the bloggers who took place in this piece of online activism are solidly middle class. There are some such as myself who admit to coming from backgrounds that were not middle class but by and large we have folks who are quite disconnected from the people who they hope to help by giving a one size fits all solution which rarely works. Marriage can be a wonderful institution but it is not for everyone and marriage alone will not cure all that ails the Black community. If Mama and Papa are married but dysfunctional who the hell does that help?

I see real help coming in the form of knowledge, for most folks reading this the very idea that knowledge is not available is hard to fathom. Yet as someone who works with the poor granted in Maine I work with poor whites I can attest to the fact that there are still millions upon millions of Americans who lack access to knowledge. People who have outdated libraries, poor schools and basically no help in breaking the cycle of generational poverty. Most of the so called programs to help the poor are little more than band aid solutions and I speak as someone with 15 years of working with the poor in Maine and in Chicago. We give a Mama a Pell grant to go to school yet no access to childcare or transportation. In some states we have rules that you can’t go to school and receive TANF assistance as you need to be working.

If someone were to ask me on a practical level how can we create change with the younger generation and reverse the cycle of out of wedlock births, I would suggest get involved in your community. Become a Big Brother or Big Sister, mentor, and financially support organizations that are working to affect change. If you are in the position to hire folks give folks a chance who may not have college degrees, pay them a living wage.  How can a man be there for his child if he cannot earn enough money?

Think about the fact that we have national policies that are not parent friendly, especially if a parent happens to be poor and more so if they are a poor parent of color. Let us be mindful in the language we use, I recently saw many folks on line using disparaging language to refer to out of wedlock children…that’s not cool. I also think in the Black community we need to see the village coming back together. I was thinking back to the fact that the year I stayed with my Granny, the same lady who babysat my brother as a child babysat my son. We need more of that. In some ways the Black community is deeply fractured and needs to come back together and while online campaigns are great ways to raise awareness we must do more. The work that is required will demand that to be frank we get off our asses and literally do something, we either give our time or we give our money.

In closing I don’t think there is a single answer to this issue but as I opened this post with I do think that finding the solutions will require deep examination of how we got to this point. To look for an answer without a historical perspective of what got us to this point is foolish at best and actually has the ability to be quite damaging at worst. Black folks in general are not good at talking class issues but I do think that for those leading the charge that is a discussion that will need to be had.

ETA: I think perhaps we also may have to look at how we define a family. Right now our official view point is one man, one woman and kids. Yet for many that is not their reality and perhaps we need to be mindful of that. If Black women are outnumbering Black men that means to me it’s not even possible for every so called Baby Daddy to marry the mother of their kids. Am I saying we need to institute laws for polygamy? No but acknowledge that from a strict number perspective even if wanted to see all these folks married it’s not possible. So again we need policies and procedures that allow parents to be there for their kids and create a healthy family in whatever form that takes.

Why two parents count especially if you are Black

In typical fashion I am late to the party, hey what can I say? However today Black bloggers across the blogosphere are uniting to write on a very important topic that really requires all of us to start getting involved and not just by talking but to really work towards creating change. In the US, children born out of wedlock have become a common occurrence and the truth is there are lots of reasons why couples choose not to marry. Though in the Black community the consequences are creating what I am sure scholar’s years from now will call the lost generation or maybe even the lost generations. A generation of kids raised without two individuals involved in their lives. I am not about to argue on the moral piece of why folks must get married because as someone who did time as a single Mama I know all too well that life happens but even as a divorced young Mama years ago I understood that my ex-husband and father of my son needed to have a place in my son’s life. I suspect the reason I understood that was because of how I was raised. Here are my thoughts.

My parents married a month before I was born, for years I was embarrassed that my parent’s wedding anniversary was 5 weeks before my birthday. I often wondered why they waited so long but now as I approach middle age I am just glad they decided to become a team.

Growing up my Mother, rest her soul was the light in our family. She was the heart and the soul, her death 6.5 years ago made that clear. In fact it wasn’t until weeks before her death that I spent a significant amount of time with my father. No, my parents were never separated, my dad was a good guy but the truth is he was a bit gruff and frankly at times a tad unpleasant. Think James Sr. the father in the old TV show Good Times that was the father I grew up with. I will be honest as a kid, a teenager and even as a young woman I didn’t think he was special. It actually took my mother’s illness and subsequent death to realize he was indeed special. Since my Mom’s death I have gotten to really known him and appreciate him to the point that he is moving out to Maine this fall.

Yet it was hitting my mid 30’s a few years ago that it hit me that my father’s influence was always lurking beneath the surface. While I can’t say wholeheartedly that Dad was the first man I loved he was the man who set the bar for what I looked for in a man. See, my Dad was that old school blue collar man who put family first. He worked, brought his check home and allowed my Mom to be a homemaker. I have said on this blog before I used to be ashamed that my Mom was a stay at home Mom and the fact we didn’t have much in terms of financial resources. Yet in allowing my Mom to be a stay at home Mom in the 1970’s and 80’s he gave me a gift, a framework that only now as I approach 40 I truly understand.

In the Black community there is a saying Mama’s baby, Papa’s maybe and I think in the last 20 or so years we have seen the tragic results of such thinking. A couple has a child and Mama is responsible and well maybe Daddy is around. Yet the fact is kids need two parents ideally they need them to be together but if that is not possible and believe me it was not possible for my ex-husband and I. I am firmly convinced that had I stayed married to my first husband one of us would have killed the other. Two people can be so alike and passionate that it’s a very bad thing and the best thing they can do is get far the hell away from each other. Yet when I left my ex husband it was my own father who told me that my son needed his Dad. As hard as the road has been it was true my son did need his father and the fact that his Dad has been in his life always is one of the reasons I think my son is as grounded as he is. No matter what our feelings for one another, our boy has been a priority. It’s been 17 years since we split but a few months ago when I saw my ex-husband at our son’s high school graduation we embraced. The road has been long and despite our divorce early in our son’s life we both made the sacrifices to create the best life for our son.

This is what more Black men and women need to do. I have close friends whose kids did not have their fathers in their lives and now those young adults are going off in bad directions. Yet these same women did not have their fathers in their lives so in many ways they had no idea what it would mean to not have a father for their kids?

I am convinced the older I get that kids model what they see. In other words if Mama has a string of boyfriends what message are you sending to your daughters? If she sees you doing everything and a man laying up on you or worse yet begging Daddy to send money or spend time, what message does that impart to your kids? How we expect a young boy to grow up to be a responsible young man and take care of his kids if he never saw his own father do such things? Clearly a child can grow up to do the right thing but for so many Black kids that is not happening. Considering that Blacks are disproportionately affected with lower rates of school graduation, higher rates of unemployment, higher rates of prison incarceration and the list goes on. The fact is children being raised by two parents who are there emotionally, mentally and financially can go a long way in curing much of what ails the Black community.

In the idea world, a couple would get married, have kids and stay married. Yet we don’t live in an ideal world…shit happens. However we can make a decision that if we have kids they deserve our best and judging what is best starts on being brutally honest with ourselves. If you choose to lay with a man or woman and the possibility is there that you can create a new life. Ask yourself this question, do you want to deal with that person for the next 18 years if a child is created. If the answer is no get up and leave right away. Your right hand and or a personal vibration device can take care of your needs just as well without creating a vulnerable new person in this world.

Evengelical Parenting

I am becoming more and more convinced that there are certain segments of the population for whom the act of raising children closely resembles the conversion that happens when folks become Evangelical Christians. I know because in the past I was closely aligned with Evangelical Christianity, now I consider myself a simple Christian.

Yet in the early days of my coming to Christ, I was passionate and on fire for Jesus always looking for a chance to share my story and lead folks to Christ. In the past I attended churches where the leaders implored us to testify often, where we were told that if we did what Christ and thus the Bible said then health and prosperity would be ours. Only problem with such dialogue is that if one truly reads the Bible and studies it, never once does it say that if you come to accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior that you are on easy street. Good health and financial prosperity are not the rewards for being a Christian. Yet folks like Joel Osteen and Joyce Meyers both who in my two cent opinion would be better served as inspirational speakers insist that God wants you to be healthy and wealthy. Um…that is simply not true. Now I am not about to turn this into a biblical discussion but if you want to ask me why I think this way, feel free to leave a comment or email me.

Nowadays when we choose to have kids unlike our parents and grandparents we have so many choices. Hell before the baby even arrives earth side we must decide how we want the child to arrive. Do we use the medical model and use an OB, or do we use a midwife? Do we birth at home? Hospital? Freestanding birthing center? Shit, the kid hasn’t even arrived and we have to make all these damn decisions. I must admit back in 1991 when I was pregnant with my son, I didn’t have all these choices, he was born in an hospital with an OB. Now I will be the first to say that choices are good, believe me women we need choices when it comes to how we give birth. Problem I have is too many of us put too much damn stock into individual details not realizing parenting is a journey, one that you may start off with the best of intentions but like a bad vacation, shit just happens.

Now it appears that one of the biggest choices that women face is whether or not they should breastfeed their baby. Clearly there are amazing benefits to breastfeeding, while I did not breastfeed my son in part because I knew nothing about it, I did later go on to nurse my second child for three and a half years. It’s quite funny that I nursed that long considering I was ambivalent about breastfeeding, in large part because I was not personally familiar with it. I started off with a goal of nursing 6 weeks and went on for years because I opened my mind and got informed but also because at the time I bought into some of the hype. I admit that will probably piss some of ya’ll off but the truth is that some women in their zeal to see more women breastfeed will tell you all sorts of amazing things will happen if you nurse.

Yes, there are some breastfed babies who are healthier than formula fed babies, yes some women do lose weight while nursing but guess what? I was not one of those women, hell I gained 50lbs in 8 months while nursing, see I took that you will lose weight thing way too seriously and forgot to remember that if you consume way more calories than you burn off that you will gain.

The more zealous lactivist though will have you thinking that should you nurse your babies that well, bad things will never come your way. Look, nothing could be further from the truth. I have been following this story. In case you are not up for clicking, it’s the story of Katie Allison Granju, back in the 1990’s she wrote the book on attachment parenting and some credit her for creating the word lactivist. I read her book when the kidlet was a baby and often wondered what happened to her, not realizing until a few months ago that she was still a writing Mama. Her story in many ways is tragic; losing a child is hands down one of the worst things than can happen to you. In her case despite being a gentle and thoughtful parent, her eldest got involved with drugs.

Granju’s story has haunted me in part because her lovely son Henry was the same age as my boy, the same day that my son was graduating from high school, Granju was saying good bye to her son. I admire the hell out of Granju and how she continues to go on and hell even blog through her grief. I can only imagine that most days it takes such strength and courage to go on and please know that in no way am I saying anything negative about this Mama. However Granju in a recent piece confessed that she is not nursing her new baby, pretty ironic that the woman who wrote the book on parenting and breastfeeding is not breastfeeding. It was in the comment section to her piece where a nerve was struck for me where most folks let her know it was okay to not nurse after all she has suffered one hell of a loss. Yet one commenter really felt compelled in my opinion to lay a guilt trip on Granju.

Look nursing is great but its only one of many parts of parenting. Truth is I had my first kid at 19, didn’t follow any books, made a shitload of mistakes in raising him yet he is one of the most thoughtful humans I know…how we got him I do not know, but am thankful that he chose me to be his Mama. I have a 5 year old who I followed all the current protocol with and there are days frankly where I want to beat my head against the wall. My daughter is not an easy child to parent and daily my dreams and assumptions are dismantled and challenged with her.

Point is, this parenting gig is the hardest you will ever have, and folks who speak in absolutes have no idea what the fuck they are talking about. Parenting is hard enough without zealots running around making us feel bad. So I say down with evangelical parenting. Just parent your kid to the best of your ability and trust that it will all work out.

It’s okay to be mediocre

We are living in crazy times here in the US, many of our fellow country men and women are struggling to survive to the point where just keeping food on the table is a struggle. Yet at the same time many of us are still playing our role as the ultimate consumers. Fancy meals, coffee drinks (yeah, I am guilty of this one), standing in line to get the newest and latest iGadget, all the outward signs of success. I often wonder how many of us can really afford these things? Make no mistake, I know not everyone is struggling but most of us are living in denial. If we lost our jobs and didn’t find one in six months or so our world would collapse.

Yet despite the grim statistics that in this new America a permanent underclass is being created where a good 10% of us at any given time will be jobless and many more are underemployed. We still cling to the dream that we must achieve success and that well… success will include climbing the corporate ladder or maybe the non-profit ladder or owning our own business. Success is often defined by what we have rather than by who we are and frankly I think that is fucked up.

Social media allows me to stay connected enough to remind me that the second reason why I chose to move to Maine was that I wanted to get off the hamster wheel. Prior to our move to Maine and the eventual downsizing of our life, the Spousal Unit and I worked hard to the point early on we had a patch where work was fucking with our marriage. A boss who does not give a damn that your wife is sick has a funny way of creating tension in a marriage especially when your presence is requested on a Sunday just so you can sit in the office and be on call for a client. When the Spousal Unit was fired from his lovely well paid position at a Big 4 firm, it was the beginning of a turning point in our marriage that turned out to be preparation for life in Maine. Yet because we made the conscious decision that our marriage and family was more important than anything else I suspect its one of the biggest reasons that we have weathered the financial storms of life.

In many ways we have reached the point where we are okay having less, that as long as our basic needs (and I admit we are defining basic a bit broadly), are met that we are fine. In a world that says mediocrity and settling is bad we are at the place where we are ok with settling professionally and even financially when our personal life is so rich. It’s funny because the past few months have been some of the best times personally for us as the kidlet has gotten older and a bit more predictable (i.e. regular bedtime).

Last night before I drifted off to bed, I told the Spousal Unit that I was content with our life and he replied that he wished he could do more for us, like rehab this 127 year old dungeon we call a home. I won’t lie, it would be lovely to just hire contractors to fix this place but I am happy to just have a home and more importantly a home that is paid off, the rest will come in time.

To my young readers and maybe not so young readers, I guess what I am trying to say is life is too fucking short to spend your time chasing shit that won’t really make you happy. Sometimes we set goals of things we think will change our life and guess what? Those things often aren’t all they are cracked up to be. Instead happiness must come from inside, true its hard to be happy when your belly is empty and you are sleeping on a park bench but the fact is if you got a place to lay your head, food, and more importantly you have good people in your life that is the shit that matters.

I guess in some ways this may seem strange coming from someone who is holding a beg-a-thon to get a new computer after all if I had a better job I could just go out and buy the damn thing. But while that would be nice, the fact is even this blog is a labor of love that I could not do if I were tethered to some high paying gig, thus not having the chance to meet all you fabulous folks who read my ramblings. So don’t let others define who you are by what you have or don’t have, know that you are fabulous no matter what!

What do we owe them?

I have been unusually quiet in this space even by my own standards, I wish I could say it was strictly because it’s hot as hell (global warming is real, we had tornadoes in Maine last night!!!) but truth is I am bogged down with family issues. This is one of those times when maybe I am about to share too much of myself in this space, but the truth is for me letting things out is often healthy. So here goes.

Right now as I type this, my remaining parental unit stands on the brink of homelessness. I am talking the odds are high that tonight he will sleep on a bench or in a shelter. I wish I could say it was because he is a super asshole but really he is not. No, he is just an aging hippy turned preacher turned widower yet a man who instead of planning chooses to live on faith. Long story short when the feds decided to play games with the extended unemployment benefits, my Pops got caught up in that mess. It’s been a month since he last received an unemployment check and living in a rooming house where rent is due weekly this is real bad. Regular laws governing eviction processes don’t apply to him and while I have been able to ensure he isn’t starving, there is no way I can pay my bills and his damn near $200 a week room rent.

My father is a prideful man, so rather than go to his family and by my last count he has at least 9 siblings still alive, he waited a couple of weeks before sharing this news with my brother and I, neither who are in a position to do much. Like I said we are keeping him from starving and I have extended an offer that he is welcome out in my neck of the woods and I can probably pony up the cash for a bus ticket to get him out here but really that is the best I can do.

Having worked with the homeless in Chicago I am quite familiar with every shelter or source of help for folks in Chicago yet he has not wanted to discuss those options, though he did call 311 the city’s homeless prevention helpline though without a guaranteed source of income he was pretty much shit out of luck.

My heart is heavy this morning, but at the same time feelings of anger are creeping up. See, to some degree we have been here before. When my Mom was at the late stages of her battle with cancer I helped my folks out, spending thousands on rent and her insurance. When my Mom passed, I helped out even more. None of that money was ever repaid back and really it wasn’t my money I spent it was money I owed to the IRS. This is one of the reasons I have that pesky tax problem.

See, my natural instinct is to help folks but the older I get, and as my own responsibilities mount its pretty clear that I can no longer dive in head first to help loved ones because in my mind I owe it to my kids and husband to make sure their needs are met. Yet I am struggling with the very idea of what do we owe our parents? Presuming they were decent folks who loved us and raised us, do we owe them anything? Two old friends of mine admit they have always admired the lengths I have gone to, to help family but also admit they would not sacrifice their own financial futures to do so. On the surface that pains me yet deep down I am starting to think it’s true. Part of me feels like due to past help, perhaps I have set a bad precedent in helping. I have family members who assume based on silly superficial shit that I must be well off financially…um, no. I still struggle with money like many I suppose but I also know that I try to stay one step ahead and plan for shit and deep down it bugs me that others don’t.

Anyway that’s what’s up with me. Is there anyone out there that is struggling with family in need especially parents? If so I would love to hear from you.

Not all skinfolk is kinfolk…living in Maine while Black

From time to time well meaning friends and acquaintances who live back in Chicago or places with far more diversity than my current state of Maine will lament with me over how hard it must be to live in a state where to be honest there is not a lot of racial diversity. In my early days in Maine, I would often associate bad days with the fact that if only I had more folks who looked like me, all would be well. As if the mere presence of Black and Latino folks would be my magical Tara from which I would draw my strength.

In the past year though while I do wish certain products and services were more readily available, personally it bothers me less and less that there is not a great deal of diversity here. See, not all skinfolk is kinfolks to quote the marvelous Zora Neale Hurston. I was reminded of this recently when I went back to Chicago and actually decided to leave a day early after dealing with some interpersonal shit with my so called friends.

Let me go way back to a time when I was just a wee lass growing up in Chicago so you can get a sense of who I am. I grew up with two Black  parents who raised their 2 kids to be Black. Yet I was that geeky kid who well to be honest was bookish, my cool factor was diminished in the eyes of my aunts, uncles, cousins and other family members because we lived on Chicago’s northside and not in the hood. (considering my folks were Black hippies we were hardly living large, we were broke) I attended schools where in the early grades I was the only fly in the buttermilk to quote my Granny.

This meant when I got together with family and family friends I was teased mercilessly for talking and acting like a white girl. See Black Girl in Maine, cannot jump rope aka double dutch to save her life, my dancing skills are well limited though I actually keep time with the music these days and don’t make a complete ass of myself. Whenever I tried to hang with my folk’s fact is I got burnt emotionally and was made to feel like I didn’t belong and was not welcomed.

Last time I saw one of my most fervent torturers was almost 7 years ago when my Mom was dying and even then this relative tried to as we used to say throw shade on me and clown me. Only problem was at that point I was a grown ass woman and at that stage in my life with my Mom in rough shape I had no interest in playing those games. I also let that same relative know we could take it outside and she would learn that the lil girl she used to tease didn’t exist anymore. I might still talk white at times, but don’t get fooled, if need be I will handle my business. Interestingly but that relative died 2 yrs after my Mom and now what family members do talk to me, often talk about maybe there was value in the way my folks raised my brother and I. In our generation of the family we are the only two have had no brushes with the law, or any outward signs of hard living.

Funny thing is at this point and I think I speak for my brother we don’t give a rat’s ass about them; though the lack of family and my kids makes me stay connected in an indirect way because I feel my kids should at least know these folks. Even though not all skinfolk in ya kinfolk.

So yeah my relationship to most of my family except for literally a handful of folks is strained at best. I am not sure I fared better when it came to relationships with non family members. In the 5^th grade I met a sista who has been in my life ever since. Yet some shit went down recently that has me realizing that not everyone we call a friend is a friend some folks are merely acquaintances even if we are tight and have known each other over 25 years. Those 2 facts don’t make us best friends forever…

Don’t get me wrong its not as if I have had lousy relationships with all folks of color and great relationships with white folks because that is definitely not true. No, instead I have realized its important for me to just be around good folks who nurture me and offer friendship who I can reciprocate with. Fact is some of the best damn people I have met in almost 40 years on this planet have been here in Maine. All except for a few are white but true connection allows for connecting across race and culture. Yes, there are differences and yes they can be annoying at times but at the same time it is very possible to make connections and find a home.

It’s that point that was brought home for me when I landed in Chicago a few weeks ago and as soon as I entered the terminal at Midway Airport, I saw a sea of faces that looked a like mine. For a moment my heart rejoiced but within an hour I was reminded again not all skinfolk is kinfolk as I stood in line for the bathroom and a woman who looked like me with a cellphone had a mouth so foul and believe me when it comes to cussing I can cuss with the best of them even I was bothered. It didn’t help that when our eyes met she gave me a look that chilled me, I would love to say that was a one time event but any illusions of connecting with the sistas went out the window. When I returned to Maine, I talked to a dear sista friend of mine who left Maine in the past year to be in a more diverse area and she confirmed that she too had had some of the experiences I had in Chicago on my brief trip. My girl had left Maine seeking to reconnect with Black folks for the sake of her own sanity and for that of her kids but realistically she had not found it though in her case she was close enough to her biological family that the move was still a good one.

There are places where Black folks connect and are good to one another, yet in many urban areas that is not the case, I am sad to say. Obviously there are a myriad of reasons for why our young are hell bent on destruction but coming from Chicago and being where I am now a place that while it lacks diversity and a few other things gives me a pace of life I do like. I think for now I am going to stay where I am until the wind blows me in a new direction.

It’s Loving Day

It was on this day in 1967 that the United States Supreme Court decided a case that made it possible for folks like the Spousal Unit and I to get married. Richard and Mildred Loving, a white man and a black woman married in 1958. Unfortunately at that time there were states that still had anti-miscegnation laws on the books that made that simple act a crime. You can look up the story of their lives to get the historical background needless to say as someone who has been involved in an interracial relationship since the early 1990’s, the story of the Lovings is one I have come to know.

I rarely write about my marriage and the fact that I am married interracially on this blog since after all these years, I simply see the Spousal Unit as a man who happens to be my husband and yeah he’s white. There is also the fact though I have been pretty intentional in stating that should we ever for any reason part company I most likely would never date interracially again.  Yeah, I know that sounds bad and yes the Spousal Unit is aware of my feelings lucky for him, I have no intentions to unload him anytime soon.

 However folks like myself do have a debt to the Lovings because if I thought it was hard to be married to my first husband in 1991 who was white, I can only imagine how hard it had to be back the late 1950’s. Even now there are still moments of the uncomfortable pause when folks realize we are married. Of course I will never forget when my first husband and I were married and I was pregnant with the elder boy and we were out at the old Grant Park in Chicago and a white woman came up to my then husband looked at me with disgust and said to my then husband “What white woman did you so bad….” you can fill in the blanks.

We have come a long way baby! Yet we have so much further to go when it comes to marriage equality in this country but that’s another post.

HappyLoving Day!

Do you have a Plan B?

I imagine that a few of my regular readers are going to write back after reading and tell me what a Debbie Downer this post is and how they will never ever deal with anything that I am about to describe. To you I say goodie gumdrops and come back another day; as for me I have always been a realist and I firmly believe that shit happens. Shit not only happens it happens when you least expect it, so always have at least a Plan B and possibly a Plan C.

Ladies, we all like to believe that not only will we find Mr. or Mrs. Right; but that once we find our soul mate and partner that we will be happy until one of us checks out of Planet Earth. It’s a lovely thought but in America if you are a heterosexual married couple, the odds are you will probably divorce far sooner than one of you passes on.

I have written before about how in the past several years I have watched several good friends go through divorces and in all but one situation the women were on the losing end of the stick when it came to money. It’s no coincidence that the only one that didn’t get totally fucked was also the only one who had not been a SAHM (stay at home Mom), ladies I have to say it once and for all staying at home with the kids as a full time choice with no plan to ever work for cash is a bad idea.

Look, when you are in love and happy you are playing on the same team yet the moment you decide to end the relationship especially if you decide to end it…guess what? You are not friends, it’s a dog eat dog world. I have seen in most cases (there is a current exception) most of these loving Dad’s get real tight with the money and even those who willingly pay their child support its still a shock for Mom. Why? In many cases child support is not going to cover the entire cost of taking care of the child because the courts figure both parents will be providing and that includes providing money. Sure you can get a job but the reality is for most women, even highly intelligent and amazing women, if you haven’t worked in a number of years the odds that you will step back into the world of paying work and earn enough to support yourself and your share of financial support for the kids is really quite slim. It was already slim before the economic downturn and now it’s virtually impossible.

Many women and I have some in my life currently dealing with this instead end up jumping into new relationships also known as the rebound because well, having a man around can be useful from an economic point of view. I know…in perfect world no woman would ever get together with a new guy and think money train. Ideally not, but it happens. Or else I have seen some amazing women have to resort to public assistance which sadly does not offer enough to actually live off of; it’s a fucked up existence. I have a friend who gets less than $20 a month for food stamps for her and her kid because the powers to be consider her child support adequate. It’s a good thing this Mama lives in subsidized housing or else she and her child would be homeless. I have known her 3 years now and she has been looking for work about that long, its rough out there ladies.

Just today it was announced Al and Tipper Gore are splitting after 40 years of marriage. Think about that, 40 fucking years and they decide to part ways. So if you think it can’t happen to you think again. People change, shit happens and ladies a good Plan B is a great thing. Am I saying have a secret bank account? No, but it is nice to have something in your name and I don’t mean being an authorized user on an account. A dear friend of mine learned that after 14 years of marriage she had no credit, see her hubby had handled the cash and while she had a hand in paying bills it turned out everything was in his name. In the end when the divorce was finalized she actually ended up having to sell the car he bought her, this woman had been a loving and devoted wife and SAHM. Turns out had she had a card or two in her name and maybe a little cash of her own, her post married life would have been a lot easier. Thankfully she is establishing her own credit life but it took having her Mom co-sign at 35 to get her a car. This is a woman who I remember telling me her job was her kids and hubby, those kids are still her job but now she hustles nights working to keep bread on the table since Papa’s child support doesn’t even pay her rent.

Upon divorcing women are often thrust into poverty, this is a proven fact not the ranting of a woman with an axe to grind. I am also not saying you must abandon your kids to daycare 40+ hours a week in order to have a Plan B but the reality is as the kids get older it is possible to do something that allows you to earn cash, create your own business, etc. Just do something! The thing is especially for women of a certain age, it’s not always about your honey and you parting ways. People get sick and savings get depleted and your honey can die. This happened to my Grandmother, she was not a SAHM in fact she and my grandfather were solidly middle class, they did all they were supposed to, to prepare for retirement. Unfortunately my Gramps was diagnosed with brain cancer in his 50’s and despite what the insurance did cover there was a lot they did not cover. In the end he died and my Grandma had her life savings wiped out, all she had after his death was the house, thankfully she was able to hold onto that after losing him and all their savings. Thanks to the fact she had been working she was able to maintain her lifestyle granted it was far more scaled back but unlike some she was able to provide for herself until she retired. Also because she lived longer than my Grandpa and had worked she was able to draw her own Social Security benefits that paid more than my Grandfather’s benefits. (Note: if you don’t work you are not earning Social Security benefits, granted it probably won’t exist when we retire but still, the world of paid work allows you to theoretically earn something towards your retirement)

I have seen one too many older women lose a partner too early and be plunged into complete poverty after his death. I actually met a dear friend this way; she was renting out rooms in her apartment to survive. She had outlived her husband there was not adequate insurance to provide for her needs so she lived a good 20+ years after he passed away but she spent them in poverty.

Ladies, have a Plan B, if nothing else for your own piece of mind. Love is grand but shit also happens and I don’t know about you but I don’t want to be holding that bag.