I have a zillion pictures to post and big dreams of doing them up in fancy configurations with all the new photo software that I now know how to use, but it is 9:00 and I am ready to go to bed. I think that I am coming down with something. So my ideas of grandeur will have to wait until tomorrow.
For now, I am going to write my first political piece of this blog. It was bound to happen sooner or later.
A couple of days ago I was innocently working away at my job trying to make things better for children in Portland. I was feeling very focused, hopeful, and productive. I was certain that I could put one foot in front of the other and carry my little family over all the obstacles that face us. It didn't matter that every time I turn on the radio all I hear is war, war, war and death. It didn't matter that drought, AIDS and poverty was ravaging the whole continent of Africa where my beloved husband and father to my child was born. I was doing a good job with one little child and with a job that was going to change things for children in Oregon, and I have done all I could for children in Kenya for many years.
So there I was in this meeting facilitating a discussion with a lot of people who are far, far more educated than I am but feeling quite self-confident despite being of course the poorest person in the room and the only person of color.
"So what are your concerns about children in Portland? " I ask. There is a long dialogue about the state of Jefferson High School and several other topics. I turn to another person. "You, have not spoken yet, what are your concerns?" "Well, the statistics are quite shocking." He says. "Only 1 in 4 African-Americans graduate from high school in Portland." I had never heard this statistic before so after I think successfully bluffing my way through the rest of the discussion I verified his source. It was true. I had heard this about certain schools, but not the city as a whole.
What about my beautiful little Kenyan-American child? I just wanted to rush back to him, put my arms around him and tell the world "You can't have him! He's mine! He's too perfect, too pure. He's too brilliant and he loves every one of you too darn much! You can't hurt him, can't crush him. He's mine."
Malcolm is doing so very well, and loves everyone and I am so very afraid of school. I expected him to be a girl which would have been easier. I can arm a young black girl for womanhood, but Black men in this country are so hurt and wounded and so often demeaned and imprisoned. I feel that I have brought someone wonderful into a place where he is doomed, and I just want to hug him and hold him and hope that war and racism and global warming will just go away while we are too busy watching the leaves or the sunset to notice that everything just got better.
By Sam, Uncut
13 years ago
2 comments:
My darling daughter,
You are so gifted you bring tears to anyone who reads this. I yelled in frsutration the other day that "now I am a grandmother and I don't have to put up with this sxxx!" I was so upset at some pettiness when the world seems so wrong. But I want to share a memory with you.
When I was pregnant with you the world was also pretty messed up. I used to go into the grocery store holding my tummy and saying to myself, "this baby is mine..all mine and no one can have her".....so many did have you and so quickly. You, like Malcolm, loved people, there was no way I could keep you to myself. I hurt every time you hurt at racism and at cruelity. I knew on some level you blamed me; yet, I also see you now contributing to the world so fully. You can't protect him but you can help shape his responses to our world. As a black man, he will meet his tests, harbor his wounds and sometimes blame you or his father. Knowing you both, I know he will become a man in the best sense with soul, dignity, integrity and expressiveness. I wish all of us as parents could give only the best to our children..even when the way isn't clear. He is wonderful and so are you. I love you, Mom
Hi I just read your post. I am an adoptive mommie of a biracial kiddo....she looks a lot like your beautiful Malcolm. I think they may even be the same age. I am white and she is biracial Latino/African American....and beautiful. I was told the same thing, I know she is a girl, but I was told that as a white woman I can't raise her to be prepared for all the awful things the color of her skin will bring her.
I cried for a long time over that. Why??? I want her to have what I had in the world, she is so innocent and loves so beautifully, so willing to take the world in...and like your mother :-) my mom told me I was gonna make a difference in the world. and I am going to tell my daughter the same thing. Because of parents like your mother and you...let us hope and pray, that we are carving a better world for our children. That our beautiful innocent kids WILL change the world's prejudice. I believe we can do it and they can do it. I really do. I know people think I am naive, but my beautiful daughter is mine, even though our skin is a different color, she is my child just the same. I love her with every fiber of my being and I want to sheild her to protect her from the world, but instead I will empower her with grace and beauty and strength and as a mother, I fight beside her. As you will fight beside your beautiful son, who will teach the world to love better....love more. He is beautiful...wonderful. Thank you for bringing him into the world :-)
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