The N-Word and Me

"A friend mine ask me to post this. I did because I agree with her and wanted to get the opinions out there"
-Lucia

The N-Word and Me By Lizzy B

After a passionate debate in my A.P. U.S. History class, I felt torn, aggravated and confused. The topic of the discussion had somehow ended up on the use of “the n-word”. This was a topic that had everyone in the class curious, yet cautious and uncomfortable. In fact, I'm sure even as you are reading this essay, you may be beginning to feel a little uneasy yourself.. I became the most troubled in the class when my fellow class mates asked me if it was O.K. For them to say the n-word. I felt a little “put on the spot” at first, when I, the only African American in the class had suddenly become the international ambassador for the usages of the n word. Deep down I felt that word was hurtful, but couldn't search deep enough to find the reasons why.

Since I can remember the n-word has always been completely off limits. In current culture its a forbidden word, a dirty word, an unspoken word. Its a social taboo and a politically incorrect and explosive word. But like many things that are forbidden, there is a certain seductiveness to it that makes it almost irresistible. The n-word, even though it is technically off limits, is certainly no less talked about. You hear stories about it in the news. You hear it on the radio. You hear it being said in movies. This “forbidden and dirty” word always seems to be in the back of everyone's mind. There's so much fascination behind it. We know its ugly surface connotation but dare we dig further pass the surface to find the true origins of the word.

The n-word comes from the Latin origin niger, meaning black. The Spanish noun, Negro is a derivative of the Latin root, referring to dark-skinned people. The first use of the n-word ranges from the1600's to 1700's. At this time the name was used to describe African slaves and other individuals from various nations with dark skin complexions, including nations in Asia. It wasn't until the early 1800's that the “n-word” was recognized as a derogatory word.

The “n-word has been in circulation for hundreds of years. During the period of slavery in America, the “n-word” was often used in the process to degrade and de-huamnize slaves. It was a word that was a constant reminder to certain individuals that they were no longer a person but the property of another man. Centuries later the “n-word” still received heavy usage during the era of the Jim Crow south. Many older individuals who lived through the Jim Crow era remembered a time when the word was used for everything but a slang greeting to a friend. Many African Americans were called this word, mutilated, lynched, and murdered in horrific ways during this era, by pro-segregationist.

Although the n-word has been interpreted as having various context that are not pejorative,the fact can't be ignored that it was also a tool to convey negative ideals about African Americans. For instance in Nazi Germany, propaganda was used to describe jazz in America as “nigger jazz”, which was considered a degenerate art form.

There is also the argument that the n-word does not always denote a negative context. In literature going back from the 19th century the n word was used by both prominent white and black authors such as Agatha Christie, Langston Hughes, and Mark Twain. In these cases it was believed the word was used to represent a time period or express an idea or delima of that time.

Is it OK to say the n- word now? Well I'm not the one qualified to answer that question. Yes America has changed tremendously. We now live in the age of Obama who is the president of the United States. But let's not forget, had he existed 200 years earlier in America he probably would have been forced into slavery. You may also think its O.K. to say the n-word because you hear rappers say it all the time on the radio, however a decade earlier before hip-hop emerged, pro- segregation country singers such as David Allen Cone made the n-word the main lyric in their songs; not to condone the use of the n-word. Personally, I believe the n word should not be used in a slang or casual context. I definitely don't believe it should be a name to call one of your friends.

Nor do I believe that any other offensive word should be used, such as the f-g word, to address a friend, even if it is just for fun or a joke. Those words are far to complex and hurtful to use in such a casual manner.

However I don't believe the n word should be censored out of books, songs, poems, or movies. How an artist chooses to express himself is in his or her own purpose. Censorship cripples creativity and a possible learning opportunity. When teachers are teaching a book with the n word they should be informed and be conscience of how that word might effect students of all races. They should be knowledgeable on the history of the word and explain it to students instead of just “tip toeing” around it. Teachers especially should be culturally sensitive to every students personal beliefs and be aware of certain stigmas. This doesn't mean simply avoiding a topic because it is to complicated to talk about or because someone may get offended.

Without any doubt there is still much hurt and pain that radiates from that word in the African American community. It should be understood that words possess a power greater than just the person who says them. A word has the power to uplift or oppress and provoke memories and pass experiences, good and bad. This is perhaps why many take offense to the n-word when they here it. For many individuals it is more than just a word. I myself have encountered this phenomena. When I was traveling through Tennessee with my mother, I stopped in a rest station to buy a drink. That was the first time I heard the n word. It was said by the gas station clerk who whispered it as I walked by.

Although over time racism in America has diminished, it is not completely absent from our society, nor do I feel it will ever be. Sometimes racism is not always as obvious as the use of the n- word. Its also in our thoughts and actions. Until we make the conscience decision to enlighten ourselves and learn about other cultures, ethnicities, and beliefs different from ours we will live in a constant state of prejudice. Yes, it is hard to talk about. It is uncomfortable. Someone may get angry or offended but that just makes it all the more important.

We have to talk and communicate. We have to put our prejudices out there and our pre-conceived thoughts out there and join the discussion. If an object is taking up space in a room it won't go away. It will remain there until it is addressed.

In the meantime while everyone is trying to figure out how to politically group one another, black or African American, Indian or Native American, Latino or Hispanic, n-word or no n-word it would be nice if we could all see each other as one race. Human. But that might be to much to ask for.

FAT KID

I was sitting at the dinner table with my little girl, when I passed her a fried mushroom. I had about twenty fried mushrooms on the plate with baked chicken and rice. I gave each of the children five mushrooms, my little girl look at me innocently and said “I can’t eat this?” She than proudly announce she was a vegetarian and that the mushrooms would make her thighs look fat. My daughter is only four years old 3ft'3inches tall and a rail thin 29 pounds, so I was taken back about her worry over fat thighs. She explained to me that her school had a health class on childhood obesity. My little girl was so worried about getting illnesses she was taught were link to obesity she tried to put herself on a diet.

My husband via phone talked my daughter out of being on a diet and got her to eat her dinner, but the whole situation got me thinking. What about that over-weight kid in my daughters’ class? I wondered how that child felt hearing about obesity and how the other kids reacted towards her. Can you imagine being an over-weight little boy or girl sitting in a class as the teacher explains that being fat is the worst thing on this earth,(Of course no teacher would or should belittle a student but to a child a health class on Obesity can be internalized.) I think its bad enough that parents are worried about having fat kids, now kids in pre-school are worried about being fat.

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends 40 calories per inch for children ages 1-3. The USDA has a general guideline of 1200 to 2000 calories/day for kids ages 5 and up. I don’t count calories that my kids eat. I try to make sure they have balance meals three times a day and one/two snacks. My kids have never been overweight but happen to be underweight. They aren’t severely underweight but just enough for the doctor to bring it to my attention. Every time my children have a physical or a check up my doctor tells me that they could use 3-5 pound gain. I often ask my doctors are my children healthy in which the answer is always yes. Some people are born with high metabolisms. My husband struggles to gain weight on a 5,000calorie a day diet and my children are built like their father. If my children or healthy than I am not worried about 3-5 pound gain.

I am on the larger side. I seem to be the type of person that sees food and gains weight. I have to work very hard to lose weight and maintain a healthy weight. I was also a big kid. I wasn’t obese but I develop early so I was generally bigger than my peers. I remember being in sixth grade and not being allowed to participate in gym class, I later found out that even with my sport bra my boobs were too bouncy, and that is why I was excluded from gym class. I also know how hard it is to be judge base on your appearance. My heart goes out to the little girl or boy that is over weight in a society obsess with being thin.

How do we raise are children to love their bodies when most of their parents don’t. Moms’ and Dads’ are under society’s pressure as well when it comes to body image. Diet ads are flooding the airwaves, television channels and billboards. Parents are also constantly barbered with a hundred million things to avoid that will possibly mess up their child. We put stay home moms against working moms, with everyone whispering in our ear what is best for our children. As parents we want the best for them and often in our search for brighter, faster and better we end up alienating and teaching are kids to discriminate.

The 1997 Film Gattaca explores what a society of genetically perfect people who are like.

- The Synopsis Of The Film Gattaca

“In “the not-too-distant future”, where liberal eugenics is common and DNA plays the primary role in determining social class, Vincent Freeman (Ethan Hawke) is conceived and born without the aid of this technology. As a result he is born with a high probability of heart disorder and a life expectancy of only 30.2 years. His parents regret this, and his younger brother, Anton, is conceived with the aid of genetic engineering. Growing up, their father clearly favors Anton, the stronger, taller and more perfect son. Vincent dreams of a career in space, but his parents remind him that his imperfections will preclude from ever achieving this. Vincent and Anton enjoy playing a game that they called "chicken" - both would swim out into the sea, and the first person to tire out and swim back to shore would be the loser. As children, Anton always won due to his superior genes. However, one day when they were older, Vincent, for reasons not entirely clear at the time, overtook and beat his brother. Anton cried out to his older brother for help as he was about to drown. Vincent saved him by pulling him to the shore. Vincent then left his home shortly thereafter.

Suffering from the nearly eradicated physical dysfunction of myopia, as well as being given a heart disorder probability of 99%, Vincent faces extreme genetic discrimination and prejudice. The only way he can achieve his life-long dream of becoming an astronaut is to break the law and impersonate a "valid", a person with appropriate genetic advantage.[2]

He assumes the identity of Jerome Eugene Morrow (Jude Law), a former swimming star who, despite a genetic profile "second to none", won only a silver medal in a high-profile competition. He then attempted to commit suicide by jumping in front of a car, but again fell short of his goal in that he only succeeded in paralyzing himself from the waist down. However, as the incident occurred outside the country, no one knows of his newly acquired disability. Thus, Vincent can "buy" his identity with no one the wiser. Though he requires limb lengthening to increase his height, persistent practice to favor his right hand instead of his left, and contact lenses to replace his glasses while matching Jerome's eyes, he can use Jerome's "valid" DNA in blood, hair, tissue and urine samples to pass any genetic test — as long as he takes extreme measures to leave no traces of his identity as an "in-valid". But, where he was once an object of scorn and pity, he is now a perpetrator of an unspeakable fraud. Legally, exposure would only subject him to fines, but socially the consequences would be far more extreme — he is now a heretic against the new order of genetic determinism. Vincent is now a "borrowed ladder" (a play on words referring to both the structure of an un-coiled DNA strand and the idiom of altitude as social status) or in harsher language, a de-gene-erate.
-
With Jerome's impressive genetic profile he easily gains access to the Gattaca Aerospace Corporation (his interview consists entirely of a genetic analysis of a urine sample), the most prestigious space-flight conglomerate of the day. With his own equally impressive determination, he quickly becomes the company's ace celestial navigator. But a week before Vincent is scheduled to leave on a one-year mission for Saturn's moon Titan, the mission director is murdered, and evidence of Vincent's own "in-valid" DNA is found in the building in the form of an eyelash. The presence of this unexpected DNA attracts the attention of the police, and Vincent must evade ever-increasing security as his mission launch date approaches and he pursues a relationship with his co-worker Irene Cassini (Uma Thurman).

After numerous close calls, the investigation eventually comes to a close as Director Josef (Gore Vidal) is arrested for the murder by the detective covering the investigation (Alan Arkin). The Director reveals that he murdered the mission director in order to buy time for the mission to launch, because the window of opportunity for the launch is only open for seven days once every seventy years, and that it is now too late to stop the launch. However, just as Vincent appears to be in the clear, he is confronted by the chief detective, who is revealed to be Vincent's estranged brother, Anton (Loren Dean). Anton tries to convince Vincent to go with him for protection before Vincent is found out. However, it soon becomes apparent that Anton is acting more out of insecurity and is more concerned with how Vincent had managed to get the better of him, despite Anton's supposed genetic superiority. Vincent and Anton settle their competition as they did when they were children, by seeing who could swim out into the ocean farthest. As he did once before when they were young, Vincent manages to beat Anton who, once again, is rescued by his older brother. When Anton asks him how he can possibly be doing this, Vincent reveals that he refused to save any strength for the swim back — he was willing to risk everything to succeed. Conversely Anton was worried about preserving enough strength to swim out and return again, and these fears kept him from testing his true limits.

As the day of the launch finally arrives, Jerome bids Vincent farewell and says that he intends to travel too. He reveals that he has stored enough genetic samples to last Vincent two lifetimes. Overwhelmed and grateful, Vincent thanks Jerome for "lending" him the identity that has allowed his success at Gattaca. Jerome replies, however, that it is he who should be grateful, since Vincent lent Jerome his dreams. As Vincent moves through the Gattaca complex to the launch site, he is stopped for an unexpected urine test. Vincent reluctantly agrees to take the test, even though he has not brought any of Jerome's genetic material to hide his identity. The test result uncovers Vincent's "in-valid" status, but the doctor, Lamar, reveals that he has known Vincent's true identity all along, saying, "For future reference, right-handed men don't hold it with their left. Just one of those things." Lamar then alters the test result to allow Vincent to proceed regardless, confessing that his son admires Vincent, and wants to be an astronaut just like him, despite an unforeseen genetic defect that would already rule him out.
As the shuttle lifts off, Jerome is shown committing suicide inside his home incinerator, wearing his silver medal.” –synopsis taken from Wikipedia

I loved the movie Gattace. Gattace was ruled by science and the medical world and yet Vincent shatters everyones' preconceptions. In today society we treat every child as if they are the same, not leaving room for difference. When my son was born he had a hearty appetite. He never seemed full. My mother- in-law suggested putting rice cereal in his bottle. My son was three months old and getting a mix of breast milk and formula. My mother-in-law told me it was what she did with her boys, including my husband. Being a new mom suggestions were taken in but I also wanted what was best for my child.

My pediatrician said adding rice cereal in the bottle (except as a treatment for reflux) was not a good idea. I was told introducing solids before 4 months might cause food allergies. I also research several articles that link rice in the bottle with childhood obesity. Scientists at the Cleveland Clinic studied the effect of cereal on sleep and found that adding the cereal did nothing at all to speed up the age of sleeping through the night. That first uninterrupted 6-hour stretch of sleep came no earlier in those who took cereal early.

I took giving my child rice in his bottle seriously and wanted to know all the facts. One night while at my mother-in-laws house I gave my son rice cereal in his bottle, he did great. Rice cereal doesn’t have much nutritional value so I mixed it with formula or breast milk which does. My son’s whole attitude changed and he was a much happier baby. My son doesn’t like sweets and he is in grade school now, he doesn’t over eat and has no known food allergies.

My daughter was ten pounds right into four months old; she didn’t have the same issues as her brother so she never had cereal in her bottle. She was given yogurt and started solid foods such as fruit and vegetables however early on. She also had soy formula and soy base products. She ate mostly fruit and vegetables until she was around two years old. She was introduced to sweets slowly. My daughter prefers sweets, vegetables and fruits; however she doesn’t eat meat unless it is fish or chicken. She has tested gifted as-well her brother at school and also has no food allergies.

I treat my children like individuals and base their needs on what each of them need. I don’t regret giving my son cereal or not giving my daughter cereal. I could search on the internet or look in books to tell me what I should or shouldn’t feed my child, but I don’t. I decided early on that it was important for my children to follow their cultural heritage and traditions on both sides of the family, as-well as nurturing their individual needs. Every child is different no one can predict a child’s potential. The science fiction drama Gattaca explored everyone being perfect by genetic makeup, all while underestimating the potential of Vincent.

Is the overweight child in your childs classroom Vincent? There are several factors to a child being overweight such as over eating, not active, poor food choices and/or medical or physical conditions. I am not debating the population of obese children but, however; what and how we approach children concerning weight and food choices. We can’t control what others eat or how they eat but we can help by not isolating those who are different in our stride for perfection.

Can you imagine how an overweight or slightly overweight child felt in my daughters’ class? We tell are little girls and boys it doesn’t matter what you look like be yourself. We tell them to love themselves, but in our hunt to cure childhood obesity are we putting limited potential labels on children and reinforcing stereotypes?

Harmony

I have been trying to think about what to write for a couple of days now, with no help insight. There is plenty to discuss but I feel like something is missing. These pass two weeks my husband has been away doing his military duties. He will be gone for awhile and with him my muse and inspiration when it comes to writing. My husband, you see reads everything before I post it and he pushes me to search harder and deeper within myself and in my writing. My muse being gone has left my blog silent for longer than I would like.

I realized in reviewing my blogs that I have written about what a man is and the definitions’ of a father avoiding mentioning anything about my husband in them. I choose not to mention my husband because I am a little selfish when it comes to him. I don’t like sharing the man I love. I do push my selfishness aside and happily share him with the military, our children, family, friends and our lovely Great Dane but blogging about him would be sharing him with the world. What I share with my husband is special and is a relationship hard to classify but it is also rare. He is a perish diamond in my eyes; he has a fire, sparkle and brilliance about him. He is a unique work of art that I l enjoy admiring every day.

I decided to write about my Husband because a simple comment made by a friend at my childrens’ soccer practice. I was sitting in my folding chair juggling water bottles and trying to stay firmly in my sit as one of my children fell to the ground. My soccer mom buddy Missy, who always sits next me, leaned over and asked “where is your husband?” I explain that he was away for work, which she understood her husband being in the military as-well. She then said the seven words most people say before they say something offensive, “ I don’t mean to offend you but…You and ‘AARDE’(my Husband) are such a good couple, you have a great chemistry about you that is just so natural, you guys walk and move in perfect harmony”. I of course said thank you to my soccer buddy friend unsure of how to respond. I felt weird because I hadn’t notice that we had a harmony. I was a bit confused and I started wondering what exactly harmony meant. Of course I over analyzed it and dissected and then I finally realized that was one heck of a compliment.

Harmony -
1 archaic : tuneful sound : MELODY

2 a : the combination of simultaneous musical notes in a chord
b : the structure of music with respect to the composition and progression of chords c : the science of the structure, relation, and progression of chords

3 a : pleasing or congruent arrangement of parts
b : CORRESPONDENCE, ACCORD c : internal calm : TRANQUILLITY

4 a : an interweaving of different accounts into a single narrative
b : a systematic arrangement of parallel literary passages (as of the Gospels) for the purpose of showing agreement or harmony

I am not use to people noticing us together, my husband and I. My husband on the other hand is friendly and social. He can just give you a smile and one look at those blues eyes and you’re just talking to him like your old friends. AARDE is the type of guy everyone wants to talk to or ask advice, it his demeanor. AARDE is a very patient man so he tends to be a great listener. He not judgmental and you could honestly tell him anything and he wouldn’t be shocked. My husband isn’t the life of the party type of guy, but he is usually the heart of the party. He sits quietly injecting conversation here and there but he has a way about him that everyone feels safe around him. He tends to be everyone’s ideal father figure, people anxiety crowd around him waiting for his advice or approval. Once they are sure there on his good side they scatter off to their safe social corners. While, AARDE isn’t the popular entertaining life of the party you can rest assured he went out of his to make sure everyone feels welcome, secretly knowing he gave the “life of party” a prep talk and counsel, all why not asking for attention or applauds.
My husband personality embodies this Quote for Jay-Z “Run This Town”

“Life’s a game and but its not fair,I break the rules so I don’t care,
So i keep doing my own thing,
walking tall against the rain,
victory’s within the mile”

Jay –Z

I remember the first time I saw AARDE. I was in college and I saw him one day walking alone and he took my breath away. He had Dark long wavy hair, trimmed facial hair and those eyes. I never notice the color of my husband eyes until we were engaged. I notice something different about his eyes when I first saw him. When AARDE walked his shoulders were pulled back, his head held high and he walked in marching rhythmic way, like he was a band leader for a big 10 school. He didn’t smile when he walked his lips and faces were serious as if he was in complete control of everything and everyone around him. His eyes, His eyes look over you instead of straight at you but if you were luckily he might just glance at you. When I first saw him he glanced at me and I remember his eyes. AARDE eyes told a story that I wanted to read, they held a mystery waiting to be unlocked. In his eyes I saw ever emotion possible to man from Joy to pain and happiness to loneliness’, all I could think about is how much I wanted to know those eyes.

I remember following him around in college trying to get to know him secretively. I would just love seeing him walk, it was beautiful. I was concern he was way out of my league. We ended up together and I can fondly recall our first meeting. He invited me to his room to so we could play our guitars. He sat at his desk chair and started singing “Help” by the Beatles. I could have listened to him sing all night his voice was beautiful. We were such a pair in college. We were those crazy people singing and dancing in the middle of quad at all hours of the night. One of the things I loved about him was that he didn’t mind dancing with me no matter where we were, even if we were the only ones dancing. We challenged each other in every possible way, we debated politics, science, Christianity, art and music, and nothing was to taboo.

I haven’t mention my husband in detail in my blogs because it hard to define him. Defining AARDE would be equally hard task as counting the star in the heavens. He is to me perfect in so many ways, when I talk about him it just comes off as bragging. My husband has many passions in his life. AARDE seems to bring a sense of enthusiasm in everything that his does. He hasn’t changed much; we still sing and dance with eachother while tuning out the world around us. AARDE and I never pass up a good debate for any reason. AARDE eyes still hold such emotion in them, except now they are focus on joys and happiness that are in his life.

My husband is best describe as a tight rope walker, He walks straight on the little piece of line with no safety net, just confidently looking forward. He is not really interested in where the rope ends. He pays close attention to the view and those that are walking along side him. AARDE may lose his balance but he isn’t afraid of falling, he simple looks at me, grabs my hand and we balance each other back on our ropes while giggling and encouraging the other with our smiles. AARDE looks forward but his head is always slightly tilted up so he always keeps his eyes towards Gods' heavenly plan for him. He is contently aware that he isn’t alone on his tight rope and is happy to see me walking on my tight rope right beside him.


When you think of Harmony you think of music. When I think of Harmony now, I think of my marriage and love. The love I share with my husband is like music. Love is an arrangement of emotions that produce a continuous unified evocative indefinable emotions and actions in ones soul. I am blessed to have that Harmony with my husband, truly blessed and grateful.

Will You Be My Black Friend…?

“Sure, we may elect a black president this month. And yeah, Oprah has all kinds of white ladies in her audience. But in real life, it seems the older you get, the less chance you have of being friends with someone who is not in your racial demographic. Can a nice white boy make some black friends if he puts his mind to it? Devin Friedman posts an ad on Craigslist to find out”

-Devin Friedman

How did I find this article? Chris Rock will be staring in a major motion film based on this GQ article. When I heard about the up-coming movie project I started searching, looking for the article. Reading Friedman’s opinions on race and friendship intrigued me. How he hides his opinions in a mix of humor and ignorance is very entertaining. Mr. Friedman wasn’t afraid to be hypocritical as long as he wasn’t perceived as a Racist. The article for me seems to widen the gap of racial ignorance and embellishing stereotypes. What Friedan fails to realize is when you look at a subject of friendship with a one dimensional scope, racial background or ethnic heritage, you have already excluded common behavior and replace it with stereotypes.

Devin Friedman wrote about his experience looking for a black friend on Craigslist in New York City for GQ magazine. Mr. Friedman felt that in his older age that his friend’s racial backgrounds were not diverse enough. Devin Friedman had only two black friends at the time the article was written. Mr. Friedman felt if one of his black friends didn’t show up to a party he was hosting it would leave his little dinner parties with only one black person. He goes to explain his social awkwardness when he is the only white person in the room and felt that's what it must be like to be the only black person in the room.

Finding a good friend isn’t easy and looking solely to diversify your parties is ludicris. Has are society come to a point where our friends color (race) is the latest fashion accessory? Or is there something greater behind it?, if you have a diverse group of associates you can't be “racist”?. “I am not racist one of my friends are ‘Black’ ”, Just because you are friendly with a person of another color doesn’t mean you’re not racist, you can still be racist and talk to a diverse group of people. A wonderful example is Strom Thurmond.

Storm Thurmond was a politician who served as governor of South Carolina and as a United States Senator. Storm Thurmond ran for President in 1948 as a segregationist. Thurmond supported racial segregation with the longest filibuster ever conducted by a single Senator, speaking for 24 hours and 18 minutes in an unsuccessful attempt to derail the Civil Rights Act of 1957.

“wanna tell you, ladies and gentlemen, that there's not enough troops in the army to force the Southern people to break down segregation and admit the nigra race into our theaters, into our swimming pools, into our homes, and into our churches.”
-Storm Thurmond

Early in Thurmond's career he was an active segregationist and arguably a Racist, I would say he was for a fact prejudice. What is surprising about Thurmond is before his political career started there was a young maid that caught his eye. This young 16 year old maid named Carrie Butler work in Thurmond's childhood home. Thurmond at the age of 22, Carrie 16 had a daughter together which Thurmond supported financially throughout his life. If Thurmond could be a segregationist with a bi-racial daughter than surely having more than two black people at your party doesn’t mean you’re understanding of another race or culture.

“One of the weirder aspects of racism is that no one is ever sure whether he’s racist or not, except for those few people who are totally okay with being racist. The rest of us, having internalized the knotty racial logic of this country, the contradictions about how you need to be color-blind and not color-blind, keep a wary eye on ourselves to see whether or not what we just said or did or thought was racist.”
-Devin Friedman

The Freidman article tried to end well with the conclusion that black people will be nice to you just don’t be afraid. I felt as if Devin Friedman drops the ball on his social experiment. I am certain there is a line of fear when it comes with interacting with someone you’re not familiar with but people are people. In the article, at times I felt as if Friedman was talking about lions and how to approach them so they won’t attack. Friedman really put all his social insecurities and awkwardness straight in to this article. He says this in his closing “Will they be angry at me? (No.) Is it okay if I ask to touch their hair. (No.) What should I do when it comes time to shake hands? (This is a serious f-ing question and is harder than winning a game of rock-paper-scissors.)” I felt as if Friedman wrote this article doing Jim Crow laws and you could see Thurmond nod his head as George Wallace confidently said “Segregation now, segregation tomorrow and segregation forever!”.


As you can see this Article got to me, is it that hard to find and makes friends of difference races? I have always had friends of every race and I never sought them out like I had to have a rainbow of friends. I feel the only way to break ignorance is to ask questions and be open. I remember being in school and meeting a student from India. I heard of India and often saw people of Indian descent but never talked to someone of that background until college. I remember people laughing at all the Indian students insisting they smelled because of their choice of food, I felt out of place because I never notice a smell. I took a job in college working with other students and I met “Mike”.

Mike was a student at the college I attend and my co-worker. When our station wasn’t busy we would talk sometimes for hours at a time. He told me about his country and traditions they had back home. We both found out we shared a love for Bollywood and French films. Mike and I were also advent chess players so we were always in friendly competition when the chess board was out. My other friends would ask me why I was hanging out with Mike; they were equally shocked that he had befriended me and I him. My other friends ask me about the smell of the Indian students, the smell I hadn’t notice. I remember this moment clearly because being friends with mike had taught me a few things.

I had learned about Mike’s culture, his background and I had eaten the most appetizing Indian cuisine. So when I heard my friends complaining about the smelly Indian people I could finally say something. Mike had told me that some of the students may have a smell because they take showers at night instead the morning and just like everyone –else they sweat. The few students that had a smell mike knew use scented powder or perfume/cologne hadn’t used deodorant so they had mustiness to them probably because they hadn’t discovered the benefits of deodorant yet. I remembering thinking if anyone no matter the race doesn’t use deodorant or enough deodorant and they sweat a lot they will smell. In my college just because a few of our international students had mustiness all the Indian students were stereotyped with this horrible smell issue. My other” friends” had use the stereotype of all Indian students smelling to justify being fearful of forming friendships. Fear and Ignorance are the seeds of racism and exclusion. If I would’ve avoided the Indian students like most of my colleagues I would have missed out on meeting a good friend and the experience of us learning from each other.

“Prejudices are the chains forged by ignorance to keep men apart.”
--Countess of Blessington

“The Will You Be Black Friend?” ,article had fail in the most important way, it seem to be approach with fear. Devin Friedman started looking at craigslist for a “black” friend because he felt his Job and social standing put him at a disadvantage to meet “black” friends. I had no sympathy for Friedman, he is a writer and he resides in New York City. In New York City you can find a naked cowboy singing in 30 degree weather and a New York all male bondage club three blocks down. How is it that this man couldn’t find a “black” friend? In all honestly very few if any have made friends by walking up to someone and saying “hey, You’re black and I am running short on black friends so let’s exchange numbers and be friends” That doesn’t work no matter what race you are. I was intrigued at the fact Friedman didn’t join a book club or go to a sport bar and start a game of pool to find more diverse friends. Does race matter that much in friendship that you have to search on craigslist?

I felt like asking Mr. Devin Friedman how did you met all your white friends. I am sure you didn’t put an ad on craigslist. When it comes to meeting and finding new friends for me I simple listen then open my mouth and talk. Being a military spouse and former military brat you don’t have time to check and see if your friends have the same color skin as you, you’re just happy to have friends. I have never cared about my friends racial background but I have cared if we have anything meaningful to talk about. I have several friends that the only thing I have in common with them is the state I live in and that is enough. I embrace there differences and they embrace mine; we learn and teach each other something new at every encounter.

I love the difference in people, it like a rare painting hanging on the wall. Every individual in the world is different none of us are exactly the same? We are rare and unique in our own way. Some of us in our pursuit to fit in conform to a general standards trying to camouflage any difference in ourselves and we surround ourselves with other camouflage and molded individuals. We stick ourselves in box and refuse our individual freedom to come out because of our insecurities but are differences slip through eventually.

Devin Friedman is a perfect example of a man fighting his camouflage molded life and friends so he can embrace the differences not only in himself but in others he may encounter. We as a people have to continuously overcome our prejudice. We can use the excuse that we are corrupted due to the racial society or environment we grew up in or actually find the strength and courage to search out the truth. It is fear of things that are different than us that are the seeds of Bigotry. My husband told me one night, “that we should never let our fears be a locked door to understanding”. Storm Thurmond and George Wallace known for their predjuiced ideals,later in there careers realized they were wrong and actively changed their views. Although this article didn't inspire me it did get me thinking and who knows maybe a "Thurmond" or a "Wallace" is out there starting to question the way they view people that are different then themselves. Either way why don't we start unlocking doors together.

"Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends. “
-- Maya Angelou

1. http://men.style.com/gq/features/full?id=content_7483

Disfigure Reflection (My Mirror To Self Conversation)

Tuesday Afternoon was circus in my mind filled with evil clowns dancing in sync to Pinks’ song “Funhouse” blasting in the background. I was overwhelmed with my day and simply angry at myself. I stare at the mirror and I saw this repulsive creature. My scars pulsating and dripping with blood visible to everyone even the blind. My body parts uneven and badly sewed together like I was Dr. Frankenstein latest experiment. I had the look in my eye as if my soul was saying why did my master create me?

I hear a noise outside my window and my heart jumps. What could be that noise I hear? I peer over my shoulder to see the reflection from the mirror, the villagers have gathered. The villagers are made up of some extended family and people I encounter on the daily bases. The villagers are a mob gone mad with pitch folks, knives and lit torches. The Beast in me rages and my veins start to pump with pour fire and bubble over. My hands have balled into a fist ready at any moment to strike a fatal blow.

I look in the mirror amping myself up to face the mob of people. The people who judge me without knowing me or talking to me, the people we assume things about me instead of asking. The crowd that only calls on me with they need something but disappear if I am in despair. Those hypocrites who pretend if they shade in their glass houses no one will really see them.

The villagers who all crowd around me picking my imperfections apart like a child picking out the vegetables in their casserole. They compete with me in their own special game that I refuse to play. I look different so I stand out, I am an easy target. My Heart has always been so free with love and too forgiving. I can’t help the compulsion to care for the villagers. The mob throws rocks and knives at my back and some hit me. They hit me and it hurts. When the knives hit my back new scars are formed and old wounds are opened. No one asks if I am ok but for some reason I ask the man, one of the villagers if the knife he threw was too heavy. I tend to his arm and fix it up so the next time I turn my back the man can strike me again. While I fix the man’s arm I don’t stop think he is just going to hurt me again, no I think only to show I care and say a kind word.

The mob would surely kill me but still I care for them. I care for them with my love, compassion and understanding, they get stronger and hit harder. I would give my life to protect them, to help them and to be a good friend. Why? Why be so nice to a mob that would never stop to see if I am alright. Why? Why worry about a mob that has no time to be my friend or a part of my family.

I am the creature in the mirror screaming why master have you created me? Why have you created me to forgive so freely, to want to help without condition, to care when they care not for me? I’m broken, wounded and barely put together I am not strong enough to take another hit. I stare in the mirror a tear comes down my face followed by a flood. I am crying and the tears aren’t for me but I start to wonder and I being too prideful. Maybe I wasn’t nice enough, maybe I didn’t say I love you enough maybe… Maybes role off my tongue in a mad frenzy and I realized that I do for my extend family, sometime friends and persons because love is unconditional, kindness and caring are packages best given as gifts."I am stronge enough to love thy neighbor." I stand in the mirror looking at my reflexion and at that moment I want to boil over with anger and collide with love like a nuclear bomb colliding with its target but then my husband whisper in my ear “I love you beautiful”.

I see myself in the mirror now; the creature is calm and neatly hidden away. My anger completely subsided and I laugh thinking if only they knew the scars, healing wounds, missing limbs and the bruises on my soul would they still taunt the beast in me to come out.

This was my battle Tuesday and it was gory but I survived. I realized that is easy for people to justify their actions if they see you as less than human. I had become frustrated with calling people my family and friends because they treated me like a monster. I felt on that Tuesday that no matter how great I was or loving to them they couldn’t bring themselves to treat me like family or a friend. I was not angry at them ( the mob) but myself and how I almost let the arrogance beast best me.

My dealings with my own issues in the mirror Tuesday reminded me of my favorite childhood movies and shows. I was a big Toxic avenger and Swamp thing fan with I was a child. I would watch those movies and shows and identify with them. I was “anti-social” when I was younger I didn’t talk much and I had a hard time interacting with people. I stuck out since third grade because in third grade I was a size 10 and had Large D breast. I would watch the toxic avenger and see him helping people but no matter how many people he helps, they were afraid of him.

People would look at swamp thing and the toxic avenger and see monsters, I saw Prince Charming. They hide their children and pull out weapons acting first before even given Swamp Thing or the Toxic avenger a chance. I remember saying “why don’t they stop and get to know them, why are they so mean?” I would cry if anyone said a mean thing to them or tried to hurt them. I understand what it is like to be judge on your appearance or someone’s preconceived thoughts of you. I am the toxic avenger. I am swamp thing.

We have to stop and say hello instead of judging. We all are disfigured in some way and we need to embrace our imperfections. I was inspired by a movie called “Disfigured” to write this blog. The movie inspires one to take a better look at their self.

What Makes A Good Father

Last night I was very interested in watching the new show “modern family” . I planned out in my head writing a very informative blog about it, but sadly It came on at the same time as “Glee”. When primetime cross roads this Wednesday I picked Glee over my regular viewing choice in the past “Law in Order SVU”. I sat in my husband’s big cushioned chair cuddled up and tuned to the fox network for another episode of Glee. As I watched the show, the title of my blog unfolded.

What makes a good father?

In Wednesday’s episode of Glee you had a chance to see the word “father” in action several times with three potential fathers and one single father. I watched as the scandalous story started to play out with two best friends (Finn and Puck) and the deceptive girlfriend (Quinn). Quinn finds out she is pregnant, she is shaken by the news and tells her boyfriend Finn that he is going to be a father. Later on in the show you find out that her and Finn haven’t actually had sex and that the biological father is another guy.

Both potential fathers are on the football team and best friends. The girlfriend suckers her boyfriend into believing he is the father, because she believes he will be the best choice for her and the baby. She tells the biological father Puck that he can’t keep a job and has no means of supporting her. Puck agrues with Quinn saying he will try his best to provide for his child. Puck passionately confesses he knows what it’s like to grow up without a father and doesn’t want that for his child. Quinn responds with a little black mail, saying “bros don’t sleep with their best friend’s girl”. The biological father Puck seems guilty about his actions of betraying his friend and reluctantly backs off. Puck seems very upset about the idea of another man raising his child, you get this feeling that he really wants to be there during the pregnancy and after the baby is born.

I was heartbroken for Pucks' character. Puck was told he couldn’t be a good father because he couldn’t provide financially, this got me thinking. Is being a good father limited to providing a paycheck? A mothers’ goodness or worth is never weighed on if she can make enough money for her child or provide a paycheck. When we think of a good mother we don’t say, “She always brung home a good paycheck and paid that child support on time” When we think of a good mother, we say “she was loving, caring, comforting “, things of a deeper emotional level. We seem to not think of good fathers in the same loving emotional light, fathers in our society have little room for mistakes.

In my search to find answers to my question I ran across The Urban dictionary. The Urban Dictionary has a definition for Father, not just any father but a slang word/phrase “the 1950’s father”.

1950’s Father-1950s father is a dad who is not involved with their child or children, even though they all live under the same roof. A 1950s father does not play, spend time or is emotionally involved with their child. A 1950s father is typically stoic and distant to ones child, and is typically work-a-holics. The phrase comes from a generation of males (pre 1960s) that were raised to hide their emotions, because it would seem un-manlike. 1950s father relies on their wife to do all the parenting. (My friend's dad is not really involved in his life. He is what you call a 1950s father.)

Webster has a definition for father and fatherhood.

Father 1 a : a man who has begotten a child

Fatherhood
1. the state of being a father; paternity
2. the qualities or character of a father
3. fathers collectively


Dr.Stephan B. Poulter a licensed clinical psychologist with a private practice in West Los Angeles, California, Writes About How Fathers Influence Their Children's Career and gives you four types of fathers.

“…..Dr. Stephan B. Poulter, a clinical psychiatrist examines how a father's parenting style impacts the way his children function in the workplace. He identifies five major types of fathers such as the "Superachiever," "Time Bomb," "Passive," "Absent" and "Compassionate/Mentor." Poulter argues that understanding your father is critical to enjoying a thriving career. “ – ABC Good morning America


If you are the son of a “Super Achiever"“ father, you may exhibit a sense of “stuckness”—you rebel against your father by functioning well below your capabilities and failing to accomplish much in your career.
If you are the son of a

“ “Time Bomb" “father, you may develop amazing “people pleasing” skills. At first glance this may appear to be a positive, but in reality you probably work to appease people rather than confront problematic employees and raise divisive issues.

If you are the son of a “ “Passive” “ father, you probably have difficulty expressing yourself emotionally. In a work environment in which barriers between “personal” and “business” lives are crumbling, being able to connect emotionally with others is a necessity.

If you are the son of an “Absent”, father, you have great difficulty working for male bosses and interacting with other authority figures. Furthermore, you may tend to lash out at co-workers and generally exhibit a lot of anger.

Dr. Poulters theories and idea’s are heavily base in psychology and his research. I read his work trying to be objective but I left being glad I was a woman. In Dr. Poulters work there aren’t room for many mistakes however it is very informative.

I feel that Dr. Poulter failed to see that it doesn’t matter how we see ourselves but how children see us. We can feel like "Super Achievers" and to our kids we are a "Time bomb" or "Absent" etc… I have to say that I am in strong disagreement with his theory that father's parenting style impacts the way his children function in the workplace.

However enjoyed Dr.Poulters' book “Father Your Son”

A reviewer of the book said…
“Make no mistake: Your approach to fatherhood is influenced by the parenting style of your own father. Even if he was abusive or absent and you are determined not to follow in his footsteps, the wounds he inflicted will “handicap” you unless you make a conscious effort to come to terms with them. Dr. Poulter addresses the process of confronting (not necessarily in the literal sense) your father and working through the pain he caused. Then, and only then, you can emerge from the metaphorical “cave” ready to be the strong, compassionate, mentoring father your own son deserves.”

The review really encompasses the many concepts in the book. Dr.Poulter says plainly in his book that you can’t step into fatherhood nursing your old wounds from your father. You have to deal with them, learn and overcome your negative experience with you own father to know yourself. Your child is not the person in your life to heal your parental wounds, that isn’t fair to the child.

Dr. Poulters general take of fatherhood seemed more attainable and I would recommend his book “FATHER YOUR SON”. He gives great insight on the psychology and social pressures of fatherhood. If nothing more it is a great read and my help fathers’ form or create a better foundation with their children.


Divorce Syndrome

In the United States an increasing number of children are finding themselves confused by divorce. Children are often angry with both parents for putting them through a dramatic family change. In many situations the parents name call and play the blame game leaving the child in an emotion limbo. The child is force to pick a side often emotionly closing themselves to the other parent. The child is than feed messages. (In this case since I am taking about father, I will be writing aiming the argument at accordingly but same applies equal to both sexes)

Common phrases are

“you father isn’t paying child support, he doesn’t love you” ( Money is always an issue in marriage and in parental issues, however there are other factors-Dad gets laid off, homeless, not good with finances and is towering in debit, payment is late, poor and but gives what little he has even if it doesn’t meet the 200 he is required)

This statement teaches children that a father love is base on money and the amount he can give you. You as his child are entitled to all and any money your father makes. I agree that parent should help in all aspect of raising a child but by no means does not having money make you a bad father.

Their fathers that are stay at home dads, they make no income but are great fathers. You have fathers we are married that have gotten lay-off but are still active fathers. Children do realized at some point hardship of not affording needs but shouldn’t be program to have affection base on financial gain. If love is poorly base on money than it’s not an emotion but an item you should be able to pick at your local wal-mart, half off and on clearance.

”Your father didn’t visit you today, that butt-hole see I told you he was no good” We often assume that a good father is home every day. When we think of a father we think of Robert Young of “Father Knows Best” or Hugh Beaumont of “Leave it to Beaver". They came home straight after work asked mom, “where the dinner” and patted their children on the head. Their wives happily in n the drudgery of domestic servitude as the father brought home the only bacon. They generally stayed out there childrens way until they had to give long drawn out moral speeches or teaching them the boys manly behavior while making sure the girls were princess. The father in these series were dependable and offers a very visual stability in the form of a house and car.

We often forget the military parent who is often gone. We forget the parent that has to work two jobs to support the family and can’t be there (female or male). We have it stuck in our minds that good parent, a good father has to be their all the time. We as adults often look back at our childhood and say “I going to be around more, not like my father”. We often fail to realize it isn’t quantity of time but quality. How many of us that had fathers come home everyday remember everything he did with us on every single day he did it? No, we remember the time he took us fishing at the lake and your hook got caught in the tree. We remember Dad trying to cook and burning the meat loaf but we tried to eat it anyway. We remember how he and uncle bob would drink beer while fixing the car and if we were lucky we get a tiny slip of beer and dad would let us top the oil. When we get older we realize that maybe that parent that we didn’t see often was trying their best to a good parent.

The Child becomes a Parent

We are older now with children of our own; we understand their struggle to balance work, family and social obligations. We, who grew up with divorce and often wondered how our dad didn’t see us much, now fight to see our kids after our divorces. We fight the hurt of emotions of the spouse we left, the dramas of new relationships, our inter-demons and the war in our child head when faced with the parent tug of war. We forget to be forgiving of our parent’s mistakes until we become parents fearful of our kids not forgiving us of our transgressions.

In writing the blog I ponder many questions but one stood out, how many of us actually know our fathers? I mean really know them void of outside opinions. We want them to get to know us but have we taken the chance to get to know them. My friend Lance is one my best example of never knowing his father Joe.

A conversation with Lance

Lance is a close friend of mine; I have known him for several years. He is a father of three wonderful kids. Lance fears being alone and is scared of not being needed. He is highly completive and has to have more than the “Jones”. Lance biggest compliant in life is how he was an invisible middle child. He loves to feel like he belongs, important, needed and the center of attention.

Lance will take any attention even if you simply feel sorry for him. My close friend feels he has issue because of his father Joe. He often complains his fathers was horrible and abandon him as a child.

I ask Lance what did his father do so that was so horrible?

Lance replies, “he left my mother and he was abusive to her.”

I asked Lance, ” Did you ever see him abuse your mother?

Lance replies sharply; “ no, of course not”. He hurt my mom so badly when he left. My mom still doesn’t know why he left.
I Than ask “Was your father mean to you?

Lance look at me with the evil eye stare and replies with a short smile on his face, “no, but he didn’t always pay child support all the time, I could’ve used that money”.

I ask Lance “Did your father spend time with you?

My friend Lance appeared annoyed by the questions and with a even harder tempered look says; “ yeah on weekends and shared holidays, it sucked. I didn’t get the family experience. I have no idea what a family is because of that.”

I than said “I bet it suck to your father too".

I than went on to say to Lance that he had a family. His mother and father haven’ t move to different states, he could see them as often as he chose. He had a family, a family that loved him and it was ashame he didn’t notice it”.

Lance shrugs his shoulders than yelling as if that would make his point stick says ”My father never taught me anything, I had to learn it all for myself!”

I ask Lance Did you ask your father to teach you?

Lance says no, but he should’ve just taught me.

I than joking tell Lance ” if he is such a bad father why do you borrow money from him and ask him for help every now and than…”

Lance stares at me in a deep emotionless share and says he owes me, my father in law is more of a father than my actual Dad. My father in law finally gives me the attention I should've got from my father, in my father in law house i finally feel like a family..

Lance and I continue our conversation. Lance had never had a real negative experience with his father. Lance emotions towards his father were base on his mom’s opinion and Lances own insecurities. Lance has missed out on getting to know his father Joe. He blamed his father for things in which he only had second hand information to confirm. He had written his father off because of the divorce not because he was a bad father. Lance didn’t know his father and didn’t know a big part of himself.

Lance was so involved in trying to replace his father with other figures in his life that he hadn’t notice that Joe was right there and always there. I hope Lance one day will learn to heal bonds with his family rather than leaving them broken and replacing them with new relationships. Lance and I are still friends; he still has a strain relationship with his dad but is slowly fighting to heal his old neglected wounds.

It Always Comes Back To Me

I had planned to write a simple blog about what I saw on Glee and compare that to our society today. The more I research my topic, however the more answers I received and confusing it got. I was beginning to get overwhelmed by all the information until I thought about fathers I knew. I had grown up and been around fathers my whole life. I have a number of personal experiences and resources that I can pull from. I find that personally putting me in this blog would help me ascertain my issues with my own father.

As a child I grew up with a father who was in the Army. We traveled a lot and he was gone often. My only general good memory of my father is him running away to the attic when he got home, were he sat in a white rocking chair sipping whiskey that had a drop of orange juice in it while he stare blankly in the distance. I wasn’t a daddy’s little girl and preferred having my mother’s attention than that of my fathers. My mom wasn’t a stay home mom, she work and was also in the army and I admire her.

My mom and dad had a horrific relationship. I remember growing up and being mad at father not for being a bad dad but for simply not loving my mother like I thought he should. My only interaction with my father growing up was freighting and negative. As a child I remember thinking to myself, how odd it was not to love one’s own father but I didn’t love mine.

My father worked and provided a nice paycheck for our family. I wasn’t angry at the fact he was often gone serving the county, it was actually one of the things I took pride in. My issue with my father was that I felt betrayed by him. He was my father and he was a monster. I felt as a child parents are here to protect you from monsters not become them. My father was the perfect Webster definition of a father, “a man who has begotten a child”. My father and I shared no emotional attachment nor did he have parental attachment with me. My father saw me as a thing, an “ it” and an object of his fancy. I never accepted him as my father when I was a child and that mental block was important in me surviving childhood.

When I thought of a father I thought of my grandfather and my older brother (who was three years older than me). My grandfather is a quiet man, abnormally intelligent, very loving, affectionate and protective. I still call my grandfather dad and treat him as so. When I was a young girl my grandfathers own a gas station that also did auto-repairs. He would let me play secretary in the little office. I would watch in amazement as he would fix cars and chat with customers. My grandfather was a tall muscular man and to me he was the jolly green giant (I loved the jolly green giant because he was tall but always friendly with a big smile on his face).
He always had strict routines he followed on the daily bases. He got up, took a shower, bush his teeth, fix his hair and made breakfast, he always made time to read his bible, watch black and white westerns and if you were good you sat on his knee cuddle up next to him and watch John Wayne shoot the bad guys.

In my grandfather’s house it was a sin to be late for breakfast. He would make it a feast; we had bacon, sausage, eggs and grits. My grandfather would make my plate and watch carefully and scold me if he thought I was being wasteful. Everyone at my grandparents’ house would be busy moving around and chatting with each other, everyone but granddad. He often sat quietly in his chair glancing as to always make sure we were never in a position to get hurt on his watch. My uncle and aunts didn’t talk to him much but I loved talking to him.

I would ask him silly questions like why we needed socks when we had shoes and he would patiently answer. I ask him about the Great Depression, his parents, hunting and anything that had cross my mind that day. He always answered every question and never left before he finished answering them.

My grandfather work hard to support his family. Grandma and he are an incredible team and they work together in their careers, family and everyday life. I remember noticing it was no one thing my grandma could do that my granddad didn’t do. He cooked, cleaned and tried his best to stay out of everyone’s way until they needed him. I can’t tell you how much money he gave me but I know he gave all the time in the world to me. He is never too busy to talk to me. He will go out of his way to find the answer to all and any questions I ask him. He will embrace me in a big bear hug and as tears roll down his face to comfort me more distressed he couldn’t protect me from my hurt.

I live over 600 miles from my grandfather now and can only visit once every couple of years but in the age of technology he fights to say in contact. He is older, body worn from hard work and age but he is still that father I have always known him to be. He calls regularly and we have been pen-pals since I have moved so far away. He often calls to talk to the grandkids although he is hardly able to understand what they say. While he is on the phone with his grandchildren he makes it a point to tell them he loves them and can’t wait to cut watermelon with them and take them fishing. When I see my grandfather I easily regress to a little wide eyed girl and embrace him as my dearest closest friend, confidant and as my father.
As I reminisce about my childhood I come find that I don’t really know the definition of Father. Good father is base on what your father has done or is doing simply based on how you (the child) see him. You can choose to look at your father with the judgment and compare him to other fathers. You can accept him for who is and what he was. You can trust that no matter what he loves you and forgive him for his mistakes. You can blame him for your issues. You can blame him for other people problems including your mothers’ insecurities. You can love, hate or even simple dislike your father. I forgive my father for all he has done to me; I often have sympathy for him as I become later in age. I feel sympathy and compassion because something that happens to him or he saw turn him into that monster I knew so well. I pray for him and I hope that he has or someday will conquer his demons. I don’t and will not blame him for his failures or use him as an excuse for mine. I know that my father couldn’t love me but by some miracle my grandfather loved me enough for the both of them.

The scene in Glee with Puck and Quinn bother me because Puck wasn’t even given a chance. Puck was in high school just like Finn and both are well known football players. Puck was simply written off because the mother of the unborn child felt he wouldn’t be a good father. I will watch Glee carefully and see how this unfolds but I hope that Puck fights for his chance. No one has the right to decided if you get the job title of father; you take the chance bumps bruises and all and love your child/children with everything you have.


I can only say that father to me, just like mother should encompass the imperfections and triumphs of love. We often try to be better than our parents and our fathers placing God like expectations on ourselves. We forget what really matters to our children in our rush to fill our parental void. We can’t be perfect but if our children know sincerely in their hearts that we love them and that no matter what we will never stop loving them, if we can accomplish that in our lifetime than we have done something right.

WHAT IS A MAN!

What is A MAN ?

Man - an individual human; especially: an adult male

Manly -having qualities generally associated with a man : strong, virile

Virile -having the nature, properties, or qualities of an adult male; specifically: capable of functioning as a male in copulation

What is a man? I was driving in my car taking my little ones to school and a song came on. The song was Sheryl Crows’ “ Strong Enough”, this spoke to me and I was inspired.

I have wanted to write a blog about what the word man means, I was lost in my search for the meaning. I ask random people what they thought a man was or is and they all gave their opinions base on ethnic, religious and sex preference but I felt something was a void in their response. I searched deeper in the hidden caves of my mind to find out what I thought a man was or is. I have men in my life that I see on the daily bases and I am raising a son so why is it so hard for me to find my answer?

I had trouble looking for my answer because I was looking in all the wrong places. Webster says a Man is an individual human; especially: an adult male. I thought to myself the definition of man is a bit vague so I looked up the word Manly. What does manly mean? Webster says Manly having qualities generally associated with a man : strong, virile . Virile -having the nature, properties, or qualities of an adult male; (b)specifically: capable of functioning as a male in copulation.Man by definition really comes down to sex. You’re a man by definition if you can function as male (having a penis) during copulation. The dictionary makes it so simple. A man has a Penis but for me that definition is still too vague.

I have friends and family who believe strictly that men have concern jobs like taking out the trash, mowing the lawn, knowing the ends and out of a good BBQ, can build things, fix things, fish and provide financially for his wife so she can be a stay home mom and do women’s work. I was taken back at what some of my relatives and friends considered Manly. I felt by their definition I would be a man. I can BBQ and I enjoy it. I like fixing and making things, I like mowing the lawn, fishing, football and being a stay at home mom is great but I love working. I want to work with my hands and great dirty. I want the grease under my nails from changing the oil and doing maintenance on my car but the doesn't define me. I also like singing, dancing, make-up, dresses, ear rings, fake nails, perfume, wearing low-cut blouse, high heel shoes and nothing makes me happier than being the best wife and mother that I can be. I didn’t fit into the box of what a women should be, why did I think the definition of man would?

I am taken back to the the movies that I watched a 100 times as a child growing up. I loved a movie called “Rebel Without A Cause”. James Dean wore tight jeans with a even tighter white t-shirt, his hair was styled and slicked back and he was the prettiest man I had ever seen. I do not find blonde hair on men attractive but his attitude, the way he walked and talked left me in a trance. I remember at the young age of ten, when I first saw the film, I said to myself “what a man” as I saw James Dean lean against that car and casualty smoke his cigarette. I also said those exact same words "What a Man!" several times as I watch Marion Brando play abusive Stanley Kowalski in Tennessee Williams's A Streetcar Named Desire and as I watched Paul Newmans character Brick in a Cat on A Hot Tin roof.

Why as a child did I find these dysfunctional characters to be my ideal of a man? They are questionable very handsome in these films but filled with problems and demons of the highest emotional caliber. I sat in my chair thinking to myself my idea of man when I was younger wasn’t base on ethic, religious background or my sexual preference but my personal experience. I was like many young girls in childhood idealist , optimistic and fascinated by their father firgures types. . My father was Jimmy Starkin rebl without a cause a troublemaker, misunderstood and confused. He was Stanley Kowalski in street car names desire common, crude, vulgar, bestial, brutal and a unpleasantly demanding caveman. My father was also Brick from cat on the hot tin roof Handsome, athletic, cool, always just a few steps ahead of everyone but haunted and broken .

Women like my mother somehow were able to love men like Stanley, Brick and Jimmy. These men to women like my mother weren’t like their fathers' but they provided an escape. These men were a great adventure, challenge and heartache to the women who loved them. I realized at a young age I wasn’t strong enough to be one of those women. I had in my childhood thought all men were like my father but as I got older I gladly realized that man were not all the same. Men have several categories’ and sub- categories’ and none of them fit perfectly in any shaped box. When I became a adult I challenge that psychology hold on what I thought a man was base on my experience.

I started to not try and define man but ask a simple question just like Sheryl Crow in my now favorite song “Are you strong enough to be my man?” . Trying to define what a man is a personal journey of self discovery, it was for me. I had set myself on trying to define what a man was or is and discovered something about myself. As A heterosexual women trying to define what man is would be like trying to count the entire number of stars in the sky….impossible! I know that I love the man I married. I don’t try to question or define what type of man my husband is and I am perfectly happy with that. I am pleased he is everything I could ever want or ask for in life partner including him having a big functioning penis.

In closing, I found that it is better to enjoy what works for you instead of judging others because they don’t agree with you. I have learn not to limit what a person can do or can’t by their gender, race, sex, ethnic background,appearance or religion. We have to admit in our search to define things we often limit its possibilities.