this woman’s work

Yesterday Madison got a book in the mail from Lillian who is from Brazil and who knew about a Brazilian picture book that she really wanted Madison to have so she sent it.

The book is called Nina Bonita and it’s about a beautiful black girl and a white bunny who wants to know how she got such lovely black skin. Nina Bonita isn’t sure so she makes things up. Umm, maybe she got ink spilled on her when she was a baby. Maybe she ate lots of blackberries or drank too much black coffee when she was a baby.

Eventually the rabbit asks her in front of her mother (who has lighter skin) and her mother says, “Oh! Nina Bonita looks just like her beautiful black grandmother!” (Then the rabbit marries a black bunny and they make all sorts of variously shaded bunnies.)

I read it to Madison last night and she giggled, she wriggled and she grabbed the book and kissed it. She seriously loved this book. When Nina Bonita came up with her various theories Madison would laugh and shake her head. She said, “She has black skin because she was in a woman’s uterus who has dark skin!” She was happy to see the mommy had lighter skin than Nina but that there was a picture of NIna Bonita’s grandmother. “Just like me!” she said. “Like me and you!” Then she kissed the book and said, “Pennie has skin like dark chocolate and I have skin like Mexican chocolate! Pennie is beautiful!” She had Noah read it to her later and Noah liked it, too.

Lillian, this book couldn’t have come at a better time. It’s just what Madison wanted to read and I wouldn’t have ever known that if you hadn’t sent it. Madison literally danced around the room with it after hearing it twice. I told her that someone named Lillian bought it because she knew she would like it and she thanks you. I thank you, too. It means so much to both of us!!!!!!!!

Edited to add a link from a teacher who used the book to open up an interesting discussion in the classroom.

Obviously I’ve been thinking about Madison’s ballet class a whole lot. It looks like we’d need to sign her up for a private class unless we wait until fall because spring session is over and there isn’t much going on (that I’ve found so far) for summer. But I think we’ll head to the other rec centers to find her some summer activities. Sign ups aren’t going on yet but there are two close by rec centers that look like they might have some options and then Kristen is saying the one by Pennie might be good. Frankly private dance classes are outside our budget at the moment.

We live in a neighborhood that is somewhat racially mixed. Not on the level of my sister’s, which is probably half African-American and half white & Hispanic. But it’s not black enough. I don’t want Madison to be “the other black kid” in the class. My mom was saying (after this incident) that maybe Madison needs to go to school then but not this school district. Going in and seeing the classes made me realize that. The numbers on paper look a lot more encouraging than they are. I’m kicking myself for not moving to Erica’s neighborhood only we wanted Noah to be able to ride his bike to the library and swimming pool, etc. and he couldn’t have done that there. I know it was the right decision for Noah but maybe it wasn’t the right decision for Madison. Although it looks like the middle school has more black kids than the elementary school. (The middle school is also in this quadrant and when we go to the library we sometimes see the gym classes in the field nearby.)

But I’m willing to drive and heck, even gas prices hit five dollars a gallon, Erica’s neighborhood is an easy bike ride away. Ok, except for the one hill but that’s because I’m terribly out of shape these days. (sigh) It’s not impossible. And maybe we will move one of these days. Who can tell? Just because the housing market is tanked now and just because we’re too broke to think about taking on moving expenses doesn’t mean it’ll be that way forever, right?

Madison is feeling better now, I think, because she’s putting her feelings on the class and not on herself. I was talking to Brett about what I’ve found in the way of classes for her and Noah was sitting at the kitchen table and asked what was going on and I filled him in (he was at a friend’s house after class and missed the discussion). Madison, wandering by on her way to the bathroom, said, “Oh yeah, it’s all white kids there, Noah.” And she shook her head, meaningfully.

It’s important to me that she hears us talking about this and problem-solving and she hears her brother offering his support and understanding and that she hears us talking to her directly AND indirectly, you know? That she knows that we as a family are taking this on and that it matters to all of us that she feel comfortable and supported.

Every now and then I hear from other transracially adopting parents that their kids don’t have any problems. I heard this from a parent whose raising a black daughter in this community. Or just from plain old adoptive parents. They say, “Oh my kid never thinks about his/her adoption; s/he is totally fine with it.”

I just don’t buy it. But the other thing about it is this idea that to be “totally fine” means to be totally not talking about it or not thinking about it. To my mind it’s “totally fine” to be struggling. It’s “totally fine” to wonder and ask questions and to not always feel “totally fine”.

Madison skinned her knee the other day and she wailed the wail of boo-boo ridden preschoolers everywhere when she said, “But why do scrape have to hurt?” And I told her that the pain is there to tell us to pay attention. I said, “If your scrapes didn’t hurt we wouldn’t know that we needed to wash it out and get a band-aid. I’m glad that boo-boos hurt; that means they’re doing their job! But it’s still no fun to have one.”

Same goes with the rest of life’s boo-boos, right?

I could subtitle this: I Have Screwed Up and Now I Must Fix It

Today Madison had ballet class. She was so excited. The night before she danced around and clapped her hands saying, “Tomorrow is ballet!” She picked out her ballet shirt and her tutu and asked me to fix her hair just like her ballet teacher’s. (Pulled into a simply ponytail.) She said, “I’m sure I’m going to do it all by myself this time! Again and again!” She skipped across the parking lot, calling “hi!” to one of the other ballet girls on the way. She skipped into the center, stopping to say hello to the woman who staffs the front desk. She greeted her teacher with an excited, “My hair is like yours!” And then skipped into the room to say hello to the other girls. She introduced herself to one (another Maddie) and to another whose name begins with E. She much admires E.

E. was sliding around in her tights, slipping across the floor and falling in her mother’s arms. One of the other girls was trying to slip, too, only she had bare feet so they were sticking to the floor. E’s mother said, “I think that you won’t be able to slip in bare skin. Bare skin can be kind of sticky and sweaty and it’s not very slippery.” Madison — standing to the side and watching — said, “I have brown skin.”

“I know you do,” said E’s mom. “It’s so beautiful, too.”

Oh — did I mention everyone in the class is white? Except Madison? Well, they are.

Madison came running across the room and buried her head in my chest.

“I don’t want to do ballet,” she mumbled into my shirt.

She cried 3/4 of the way through the class. I stood next to her and held her hand and at one point took her out of the room because she was so beside herself. I finally — with the excellent teacher’s help — got her to skip across the room in the path of the other girls. I was standing back to the side watching her tremulous smile as she twirled her way and I started to cry. Because when I took her out of the room she said, “I have brown skin and it’s not sticky.” And I said, “Madison, all skin acts the same way whatever color it is. It is all the same. Your skin is just like mine except that we have different colors.” And she said, “But you’re still my mommy.”

When we got home and were sitting down eating lunch I said, “You know, Madison, I know that you are the only person in that ballet class with brown skin. I think that must get tiring to feel different so I think we need to find another dance class where there are other children with brown skin.”

“Oh yes,” she said. “I want a class where it is ALL childrens with brown skin.”

“I think one reason ballet class was feeling hard today is that you were feeling uncomfortable after you talked to that mommy about sticky skin. I think you were feeling different.”

“Brown skin is not sticky,” she affirmed.

“All skin gets sticky,” I told her. “Because all skin acts the same way whatever color it is. When your feet get sweaty they stick on the floor and you can’t slide around. But still, it must be tiring to be the only kid with brown skin all the time.”

She agreed that this was so and I promised her that I would find her a class where there would be lots of brown skinned girls.

I slacked off. We had our affirmative action babysitter program but then we didn’t need our babysitter’s services anymore. Than we found the preschool where there was a black teacher and brown skinned kids were in the majority but she didn’t like to be there. And so I took the easy way out because we were already running Noah around so heck, why not just sign her up there at the same rec center figuring, hey, there are some black kids here and there (most — if not all — of ‘em with white moms). No big deal. Well, clearly big deal. There are two other more diverse rec centers within close driving distance and I was just too lazy to look up the classes there. Yeah, it’s all understandable but my kid is the one who has to pay for it.

I just wish that these lessons I need to learn didn’t come at my kid’s expense.

I admit the “God damn America” bit was a rhetorical step too far. But what I believe Pastor Wright was trying to say, as I have heard him say in many sermons over the years, is that blind patriotism is an offense. It is ahistorical. And it is dangerous. America, great though it is, has plenty of blood on its hands. It has, in many cases, wielded its power unskillfully and to the detriment of powerless people all over the world. To ignore that is abhorrent, unhelpful and it weakens us. It is better to call out your country’s wrongs and work to correct them as Pastor Wright does, than to preach “my country right or wrong,” which is the greater danger to the republic. Pastor Wright speaks truth to power, unfiltered, from a leftist point of view.

Some folks balk at that. I embrace it. Trinity is the first church where I saw women in the pulpit and among the leadership, not relegated to the pews and the kitchen. It is the first church where I heard a male pastor correct the idea, often attributed to the Bible, that women are secondary to men. It is the first church where I heard a pastor preach that everyone doesn’t need to marry or have children. It is the first church I have attended where the pastor refused to castigate gays, even if it meant the loss of membership. It is the first church I have attended that encourages its members to use their faith for strength against racism, but also to help all marginalized people.

It is interesting that we are quite comfortable with radical rightwing preachers. Pat Robertson can blame Hurricane Katrina on homosexuals and still be called for interviews by the mainstream news and embraced by presidents. Bob Jones University, a Christian college visited by George Bush, can ban “unGodly”dalliances between black and white students. John McCain can “welcome”support from Rev. John Hagee, who wants a Biblically prophesied invasion of Iran. But a radical leftist minister is just too, too much.

from What Tami Said

Barack Obama’s Speech on Race - New York Times

In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination - and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past - are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds – by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.

I want him to win. I want him to win. I want him to win.