Thoughts on 9/11/2013

September 11, 2013 is the first day of my daughter's official educational experience. As most parents know, that really begins at birth. But, this is her first day of preschool. I could not be more excited about witnessing her growth as a preschool student. We are not putting pressure on her to be anything other than happy. We trust our school to do right by our child. It is especially exciting having been an educator for so long. I will certainly remember this day. However, 9/11 is still such a difficult day in America and New York especially. I am reminded of my 9/11 experience. I am blessed not to have lost someone close. I do remember being nervous about losing some of my college buddies who worked in the area. I was far enough away I was in my second day of work at my new school. We were reeling from the loss of a parent of one of our 8th graders. So, these 8th graders came back after spending the previous day supporting their distraught friend only to find out about these attacks. I was numb when I was told about what we thought was just a crash. Just feeling so awful about that loss of life. Worried that some of my students might have lost a parent. Then, we heard the news of the second plane crash, and we went into full crisis mode. This meant calling every parent and getting our kids home. All of them. A.S.A.P. I must say that teachers across the city rose to the occasion and were some of the unsung heroes that day in how they were cool, calm, collected, and supportive of the students given the circumstances. It was tough not to want to get home and take care of my own, but that had to wait on 9/11. Eventually, we got every kid safely home with a parent or caregiver. Then, it was time to attempt a trip home. As I walked across town, I saw no cars in the streets, which was surreal. And scary. What did this all mean? Was my hometown safe? I walked over to my old school to see my good friend, Erik. He offered to let me crash at his place if I couldn't make it home. It was helpful to go to a place of comfort in that moment. I heard that some trains were running again, so I went with some former colleagues to make a trip home, that didn't come without risk, since we had no idea if we were still under attack. Although it was packed beyond  belief on the train, it was one of the most pleasant subway experiences I have ever had. People were so respectful of each other. So thoughtful and concerned for each other's welfare in this tough time. I only wish we could be like that every day instead of after a devastating incident. I did make it home to Brooklyn that day. What was once a highlight view of the Twin Towers from my courtyard, was now a cloud of smoke. I spent many an evening after that day looking at what remained of the towers and trying to make some sense of what happened. I'll let you know when I do.

I Want My Daughter To See Me Cry.

Recently, I had a moment when I thought of my grandmother, who passed away only months before Camilla's birth. This brought tears to my eyes. It made me think about the type of man I want to be for my daughter. I don't want to hold back my emotions. I want to be sensitive. I want to be thoughtful and concerned. I want her to know that it is not only o.k. for her father to cry when the moment hits him, but that is o.k. for any man to do so. I don't subscribe to many stereotypes, so it should not come as a surprise to hear me say that I don't believe in that old one that men should not cry. I truly believe that crying does not define masculinity. I chose to define it broadly. Besides, many of us think of male professional athletes as the epitome of masculinity. Yet, we don't question for a moment when they cry after winning a championship. One of the lasting images of Michael Jordan is that of him holding the Larry O'Brien Trophy crying while thinking about the loss of his father. Can that be a lasting image of masculinity as well? I know it is unrealistic to think that everyone will buy into this. A man can define manhood any way he deems fit. But I would hope that we won't hold it against someone who is comfortable enough to let the tears flow. All I know is that I am comfortable saying I want my daughter to see me cry.

Carol Dweck and Praising Your Child

I have become a disciple of Carol Dweck who has done work that has focused on the impact of praise on children. For instance, telling a child how smart s/he is versus praising the effort and the result. Rather than continue to summarize her research, I have included a link to a New York Magazine article that focused on children and praise. Check it out!

http://nymag.com/news/features/27840/

Camilla Explains It All Part 2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-jq0d-JAAUk

Slow Down

About a month ago, I was heading to Target with my daughter. We went without the stroller, so we used the escalator. For the most part, we have always been just fine sans stroller. However, that day was different. A woman decided to be in a hurry. So much so that she decided to that she should move my two year old daughter out of her way on a moving escalator. Needless to say, I was not pleased. I first reminded her to not touch my daughter, especially without her or my permission. Next, I reminded her that it is problematic at best to make a young child move on an escalator. Finally, I shared something I learned years ago when I was starting out as an educator. This motto has really been quite helpful as I have transitioned into parenthood. Children are here to remind us to slow down. (Insert an expletive for dramatic effect if you'd like.)  Doesn't matter if you are a parent, teacher, or woman walking up an escalator. Patience is essential.  Sometimes, you need to remember to slow the ----- down. As she continued her ascent laughing nervously, I was pleased to see another woman smile and nod in agreement. 

Camilla Explains It All Part I

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=naW3R9YPT7Q&feature=youtu.be

We are the 15%

http://wearethe15percent.com/post/57083599587/christopher-camilla-jenelle-new-york-ny

Yep, that is my family in the picture. I identify as Black. My wife is White. Our child is blended, multiracial. (Black, White, Cuban, Seminole) We are part of the growing group of Americans in multiracial marriages. According to the most recent census, 15% of new marriages were interracial. So, we are excited to be a part of the project in the above link. But, you know, it's interesting. After posting this link on Facebook, there were many wonderful comments. Very cool actually. However, most of these comments focused on the picture. Are comments focusing on only the picture problematic? Not exactly. They are potentially missing the point. Here's why. These comments did not acknowledge the reason why the picture was on Facebook. Participation in a wonderful, thought-provoking, 21st Century project. It's not about the cuteness of the picture. It's about being a part of this. Celebrating a partnership still not fully embraced by American society. (If you doubt this, look at the reaction to that Cheerios commercial featuring a multiracial family.) Most importantly, posting this picture was validating my daughter's experience. This is what her family looks like. And there isn't anything wrong with that. The people who made these comments might have been showing their support by sharing some nice thoughts, but I still came away feeling a lack of affirmation of my daughter's identity. Did people even look at the site? I hope so. But, I did send a friend a link to the site, and she asked me what was the 15%, even though it was clearly explained on the website. Perhaps people were avoiding the obvious due to some level of discomfort acknowledging a topic connected to race. If that is the case, I challenge people, especially white allies, to lean into discomfort. Discussing race does not equal being racist.

As a black father of a lighter skinned daughter, I certainly receive looks often as I walk with her. Am I surprised? Nope. I am surprised that people are so transparent and obvious and that they are making a lot of assumptions about me and my situation. I wholeheartedly believe that people are entitled to their opinions. I don't have to respect or agree with them, but that is a right of this country. My daughter is reminded that we are a family. That her parents not only love her, but each other. That we are happy that we found each other. I certainly didn't wake up one day with a strong desire or preference to get with a white woman. I just found someone who understands me and loves me for who I am. I think I grew up picturing that I would marry someone who looked like me. Now, I can't picture being with anyone other than my spouse. Race just continues to dumbfound so much of our country. I feel there are people close to me fearful of acknowledging not just my race, but race in general. I don't think this is only because of a lack of the right vocabulary. I think this is more avoidance. None of this is easy, but working hard to not have conversations involving race can alienate people of color. Finally, I do hope that people avoid the concept of "color blindness" because it's not only impossible, given our country's history and the impact of the media, but also potentially disrespectful to "not notice" someone's race.