Mommy's Shortcomings

To my dearest Big, Middles and Littles,

I want to start by telling you that I love you more than anything.  Because I love you and I trust that you love me too, I feel that I can come clean about something. 

I do not possess some of the basic knowledge that may be required to be an adequate parent.  I know this is hard to believe but it’s true.  I thought I was a responsible expectant parent. I did my homework.   I read (the often problematic) Dr. Sears’ The Baby Book, Raising Adopted Children, The Happiest Baby On The Block  and its sequel, you guessed it, The Happiest Toddler on The Block.  I read The No-Cry Sleep Solution, The Anxious Child and my favourite, The Explosive Child.  And when I realized that I actually had some parenting instincts and that there is a parenting book out there to support every single parent’s instincts and beliefs, I gave away the parenting books. 

What I didn’t know, is that what I should have been reading were books about the following:

1.        Characteristics of farm birds and water birds.  I can’t tell them apart.  I really don’t know the difference between a turkey, or a hen or a chicken.  I think there may be a whole male/female thing with farm birds and their names, but I don’t know that either.  And water birds?  I’m stumped. “Look at the ducks, the geese, the sea gulls!”  Are there more?  I don’t know.  If you’ve asked me about farm birds or water birds and I’ve given you some solid sounding answer, I was guessing.  I have no idea what I’m talking about.  I’m sorry. 

2.       Identifying common water creatures.  Please stop asking me about whales, dolphins, manatees, seals and whatever else lives in the water.  I cannot tell them apart.  But, I want you to know stuff and I want you to think I am awesome and the holder of at least some knowledge, so I will lie and throw out any water creature name I can think of in response to your questions.  Please don’t make me lie to you because then I feel guilty.  Please read books featuring these confusing water creatures with another caring adult and put me out of my misery. 

3.       Dinosaurs.  Okay, this one gets to me.  Dinosaurs are not even here anymore, and I’m supposed to take up valuable space in my brain remembering their unreasonably long names and what they like to eat?  I pretty much had to stop teaching kindergarten because my students were jealous of every other kindergarten class that got to do a unit on dinosaurs.  Whatever!  I’m sorry.  Forgive me.  This is  not happening, my sweets.   

4.       Names and uses of trucks.  Seriously?  I thought I was in the clear with this one until wee Mr. Lee came along and developed a deep love for any “Mighty Machine”.  I can’t do it.  I have no idea if it’s a backhoe or a digger or an excavator.   I don’t know and I don’t care.  But I care about you so I’m sorry about my deficits in knowledge.  Forgive me.

5.       Building things – train tracks, Lego anything, forts.  You have to understand, I was the baby of the family.  I had a very attentive big sister who happily built forts and anything else I wanted.  She loves you too.  Auntie Ke lives just a few blocks away.  Anyway, I didn’t obtain these skills as a child and when  you ask me to build these things for you, I feel insecure and less than because I know there are parents everywhere (even that Mama of yours) who can build anything.  I can’t.  But because I love you, and I actually think building is cool, I’ve started doing some research.  Just today I found a website where this over-achieving, show-offy person explained how to build several train track configurations using the Ikea wooden train track starter kit.  According to him there are 32 possible configurations.  He used math kids!  See, apparently good parents use math skills learned in elementary school!  Lesson?  Pay attention in school, you’ll be a better parent. 

There are other things I can’t do but I will leave it at this as I don’t want to blow your minds and shatter your beliefs about your mommy.  I do love you with all my heart but I can’t take time to learn about all the things that you care about.  I will however, teach you to do a Google search so you can find out all this stuff yourself.  And after you’ve taught yourself about farm animals and water creatures and building, you can teach me because teaching really is the best way to retain information. 

One more thing,  when you are confidently discovering the world around you, you can thank me for not always providing answers to your constant questions but rather shrugging my shoulders and allowing you to discover the answers for yourself. 

Much love,

Your underperforming Mommy

Hampton University Bans Cornrows and Dreads

It's not the first time we've seen an institution of some type try to place boundaries on what people can and cannot do with their hair.

Remember the post I did a few weeks ago about the flight attendant who was forced to hide his dread under a terrible wig in order to keep his job because his natural hairstyle was harming the company's image?  

http://thetruthaccordingtotrey.blogspot.ca/2012/07/would-you-hide-your-hair-to-keep-your.html

Well, this time its Hampton University.  They have created a rule for its male business students:  No dreads or cornrows.

The mandate was put in place in 2001 and only applies to a specific group of students enrolled in a leadership course within Hampton's five-year M.B.A. program.  The Dean of the Business School believes that the hairstyles will prevent students from securing corporate jobs.

Maybe he's right?? Maybe in corporate America the 'old boys network' frowns upon those hairstyles...SO WHAT!  What ever happened to freedom of choice?  

I wonder if people think that this natural hair movement is some kind of political stance as it was also viewed in the 70s?  Are people afraid of our afros, dreads and cornrows and somehow disguise it as something that 'for your own good?'

I see what the Hamptons University is trying to do: make their students employable once they leave the walls of academia, BUT banning a hairstyle is not the way to achieve that! 

The question I have is this:  Was this ban justifiable? Are cornrows and dreadlocks truly unprofessional?  How much does (or should) your hair be a factor when applying for a job? 

I would love to hear from the professional men with dread out there!

Share your thoughts and comments with me.  Join the discussion!

Would You Hide Your Hair To Keep Your Job?

Would you hide your hair to save your job?  That's a decision that a French flight attendant had to make.  Aboubakar Traoré, a Frenchman of Ivorian decent, was forced to hide his hair under a terrible toupee in order to remain employed.

Traoré was hired by Air France in 1999, and has been wearing dreads for quite a few years.  It's only recently that his hair has caused a stir claiming that his harm was 'harming the company's image' and that he would have to wear a wig or risk losing his job.  (This limitation was only placed on the men, because female flight attendants are permitted to wear braids and dreads.)

As a result, a petition was started to get the company to review and update it's policies to reflect the ethnic diversity of it's employees, and demonstrators have gathered and protested Air France's policies.

It's time to WAKE UP folks!  We're living in a time were more and more people are embracing their natural hair, however, certain hairstyles are still deemed 'unprofessional' by certain companies.  It's disheartening that we sometimes still have to fight for the basics.


I would love to hear your thoughts....would you ever consider altering your image to save your job?  Has anyone ever done that before?  What were the results of your change?  

Advice For Straight Parents Of Gay Kids

My new article printed in the Toronto Star!! Advice to straight parents who have LGBT (gay) adult kids!!! Feel free to share and send a copy to your parents! lol 


http://www.thestar.com/living/article/1218904--pride-advice-for-straight-parents-of-gay-kids-from-trey-anthony

HAPPY PRIDE TORONTO!

blessings

t

Stunning Photos of Former Slaves

Have a look at these amazing photos.  In the 1930s the Federal Writers Project of the Work Progress Administration collected more than 2000 first hand accounts of former slaves as well as 500  black and white pictures.  They were collected from 17 states and most of the people interviewed were in 80s 90s and some even past 100 years old.  

Many of the collected stories were written phonetically which gives the reader a sense of how they really were.  The article highlights the account of a 121 year old slave that said: " ‘Yo’ know de sta’s don’ shine as bgright as dey did back den. I wonah wy dey don’. Dey jes’ don’ shine as bright.’ "

I would love to see this collection of stories.  To look at a snippet of history, told first hand, would be incredible.

I have always wished I could somehow sit and have a conversation with those who were enslaved. See the hurt and joy etched on their faces.  Hear the nuances of their speech.  Hear the stories straight from their lips.  This collection may be as close as it gets.  

Has anyone heard of or seen this collection?

Click on the link below to view all the pictures. They are absolutely beautiful.

http://blacklikemoi.com/2012/04/african-american-heroes/stunning-portraits-of-former-slaves-photographed-seventy-years-after-the-emancipation-proclamation/

Push Girls: Real Reality TV

Last night I was surfing the net and I stumbled on this incredible show that I can't wait to watch it.  The new reality show airs in April and it follows the lives of four womyn in Hollywood who deal with the struggles we all face such as motherhood, careers, relationships and divorce. 

L-R: Former Swimmer, Mia Schaikewitz, 32; Dancer, Auti Angel, 42; Actress Angela Rockwood, 36; and Model Tiphany Adams, 28

Seems like every other reality show there is out there right?  Cameras following a group of people around capturing whatever it is that they do on a daily basis.  You are probably wondering what the hook is....what makes this show any different from every other show there is out there.  Well, take a look at the next photo to  find out.

These womyn are wheel chair bound!  Each one had budding careers before them when a tragic accident changed their worlds forever.

Push Girls, follows: Mia, a former competitive swimmer who lost the use of her legs after a rare type of brain hemorrhage at the age of 15.  Auti, a former hip hop dancer, "I was JLo before J Lo" she said.  She danced with Milli Vanilli and LL Cool J in the 90s before a car accident in 1992.  Angela, who appeared in The Fast and the Furious before a 2001 car accident left her without the use of the torso, arms and legs.  And Tiphany who survived a drunk driving accident in her senior year of high school that left 3 of her friends dead.  She was given a five per cent chance to live by doctors.

With truth and honesty, producer Gay Rosenthal, who also produced Little People, Big World, gives us a glimpse of these womyn as they reclaim their lives and shatter the stereotypes of what it means to have a disability.  

I sincerely hope you watch this show and tell a friend.  In a time where Kim Kardashian and  Toddlers in Tiaras seem to bombard our screens, it is nice to see a show that is an accurate reflection of reality on a reality TV show.

What do you think about Push Girls?  Would you watch this show?

The Craziest Thing I've Ever Written

It's mental health week this week and I thought it would be the perfect time to share this with you.  This  article is the hardest and craziest thing I've ever written.  I hope that it sparks a conversation for you at home, at work, or with your friends and/or family.  We don't talk about mental health as much as we need to in the Black community and whether we want to believe it or not, we are affected by mental health too.  Please take a moment to read about my uncle....hopefully my story will help you to talk about yours.

The Craziest Thing I've Ever Written
T. Anthony
dedicated to my grandmother

I bet you didn't know my uncle is Jesus? He is the Soul Destroyer! He is under surveillance by unknown sources. He yells on public transit that he is GOD! Often, when he forgets or refuses to take his medication he leaves me long rambling phone messages threatening to blast my soul to hell with his super powers! When I finally answer the phone he holds me captive for hours, reciting bible passages. His vile homophobic rants sometimes make me cry. I'm the biggest sinner he knows, his queer niece, and he needs to save my soul before it's too late! I want to hang up and erase his messages.

I no longer recognize this crazy, yelling, incoherent person, yet I know buried deep somewhere inside the madness of his mind, the real him is frantically trying to get out. He desperately needs someone to talk to, who will listen to him, love him through the voices that are in his head. These voices take over his tongue, keep him pacing the floor at night, having full conversations with himself, by himself. These voices encourage him to take strangers home to his one-room government-assisted apartment so he can preach to them the word of God. These newly recruited "disciples" will often rob him of his few precious dollars and his simple possessions, and afterwards they laugh at him, mock him and call him the "Mad Man of London!"

My grandmother has asked me numerous times to write a play, a movie and/or a book about mental health. She has begged me to write about my uncle, write about who he was. But I couldn't. Found my shame got in the way of my crazy love for him. Because before he was the "Mad Man" who prowled London streets barefoot reciting biblical passages, before he was the Soul Destroyer, and way before schizophrenia took over our lives, he was my lovable, handsome uncle Cee.

The man who rewound Thriller nearly twelve dozen times so his daughter and I could learn the words, and he could teach us the dance moves. Cee taught me how to moon walk! He was a brilliant dancer who could mimic every single Michael Jackson move. He was a tall, chocolate, dark brother, with white sparkling teeth, a mischievous chuckle, and the slickest dresser on the block. He made me proud that he was the guy on the block who everyone looked up to because he made it -- made it the legit way. He was a hard worker, sometimes working two, three jobs. He owned his own home by 22, lived in an upscale neighborhood, drove a Porsche, had a beautiful wife, and beautiful kids. He faithfully picked me up every other weekend to take me to his fancy home so his wife could braid my hair in the latest styles. He gave me money for school dinners, ice cream, taught me how to roller-skate backwards! He was a father figure to me, my biggest role model. He sat me down and gave me motivational talks on the value of hard work. I was in awe of him. He had big dreams. Crazy to think I was a true believer. Crazy to think we didn't see crazy coming. But schizophrenia snuck up on him and robbed him of his wife, children, and life. Schizophrenia stole our biggest living dream.

And I am ashamed of my own shame in dealing with his illness. Cee has been my dirty little secret. The person I do not talk about in polite company. Last year, Cee called me a few months before Christmas. He was taking his medication so the conversation flowed more naturally between us, and I was reminded of why I loved him. He expressed to me that he was lonely; he didn't want to spend the holiday season alone in his dingy flat.

So I impulsively invited him to come to Atlanta to spend Christmas with me. Before the words were out of my mouth, I was filled with regret. What would my upscale neighbors think if Cee decided to not take his medication and walk across their fancy, manicured lawns barefoot reciting bible passages? What if he started spewing his message of homophobic hate, loud enough for my neighbors to hear? What if he became emotionally and verbally abusive again? Would I be able to handle his behavior by myself? I knew that if I called him back to renege on my invite this might be the new thing that would cause another one of his "setbacks."

Cee called faithfully every week, excited about our upcoming visit. My stomach turned. Three weeks before Christmas, he was hospitalized. He had stopped taking his medication again and had taken another unwelcome visit to his ex-wife's house. He wanted to see his estranged children. His frustrated ex-wife called the police, and they threw the crazy man back in the hospital. I was relieved. No Christmas visit. My secret was safe again.

However, there has been times when my world and Cee's world have collided and it has been a beautiful collision. When my play," 'da Kink in my Hair," opened in England, I nervously invited Cee to the opening and to a private dinner that was being held in my honor. I will never forget the look on his face, how eager he was to be a part of something, finally a welcomed member of society! He came with my beaming grandmother. He was a bit overdressed for the occasion but looking handsome.

He sat at the table and I held my breath. He was charming, overly chatty with everyone and maybe someone with a keen eye may have noticed that something was a little "off" with him... but he was there, and he was my uncle, and I wanted him to be there to experience my normal. I needed to have this new memory of him, laughing and drinking expensive champagne, talking, eating, feeling accepted, living this life that should have been his. Me, believing that if he was a part of my normal that maybe this would distract him from the voices in his head, the craziness of his world. I wanted to make him forget all that he had lost. Make him feel alive again. It was a beautiful night. I caught glimpses of him, the old and the new Cee, and I shamelessly loved him.

I often talk aloud to myself; sometimes in the shower I have full conversations with myself, by myself, going over my long daily to-do list. I talk to strangers on the bus. My brain never shuts down. Insomnia strikes me often. I pace the floor when I'm stressed. I've been told I over think things. I turn on music in the wee hours of the morning to quiet my thoughts and to stop my brain from reeling. When I catch myself doing these things, I get scared. Is it possible that Cee's illness is going to strike me at any minute?

I constantly worry that there will come a day when my children will no longer wish to see me, when my niece will worry more about what her neighbors will think than about my own wellbeing, that my mother will only talk about me in the past tense, and that people will whisper and stare at me, and call me crazy. And l worry that I will call my family members late at night, threatening to banish all their souls to hell! I wonder if they will they be ashamed of me? Ashamed of their own shame? Maybe. But I hope they will love me through their shame, love me in a passionate, crazy, mad, kind of way.

http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/trey-anthony/the-craziest-thing-i-have_b_1267815.html

Pariah releases in select US theaters today

Pariah, for those who don't know, is a movie that follows a 17-year-old African-American lesbian, as she struggles with how to live with who she knows she is.

Pariah generated a lot of buzz at this year's Sundance Film Festival and opens in select US theaters today.

This film perfectly timed as more and more young gay people are committing suicide each day because they do not feel accepted in today's society. Hopefully this movie will continue to raise awareness and start dialogues among families and save some lives.

To my US fans and friends, check your local listings and check it out if you can.

For more info please visit their website: http://focusfeatures.com/focusfeatures/film/pariah/