Santa? Gifts? Kwanzaa? Questions for the holiday season.

I just want to begin by saying I began writing this entry three weeks ago. Thankfully, I waited, because there has been so much about my primary topic in the news lately. 

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I have celebrated Christmas my entire life. However, I don't enjoy what I feel the holiday season has become. I am not a Grinch. Or a Scrooge. I am not a big fan of Santa Claus. I don't hold it against people who are. Seriously. My issues with Santa started, not surprisingly, when I was young. I grew up believing in the myth, but began to have questions at age 5. I grew up in the projects and barely saw white people in my community. I just didn't entirely believe that I wouldn't notice a white dude walking around with a big ol' bag of gifts in my neighborhood. Someone would have mentioned him. Then, there was the lack of a chimney and the numerous Santas stationed around NYC. I didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce that Santa wasn't real. What I couldn't understand then and still have issues with now is why anyone would want to give credit for being thoughtful to some random stranger. So, my wife and I have discussed how we might want to integrate something like Santa into our daughter's Christmas experience. My wife's biggest fear is absolutely legitimate. She does not want the child who spoils Christmas for the other children in her class that celebrate it. As a big fan of pop culture, who wants the kid who doesn't at least say, "Spoiler Alert!" before ruining Christmas. All I know is I want my child to know that someone cares about her enough to give her a gift. It's not that I want credit from her, but I think she should know that her family and friends are generous and thoughtful. I feel so many of us give during this season out of obligation and not out of love and selflessness. Here is a very interesting article about gift giving that gave me pause. Truly.

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/life/celebrate/20131024/the-gift-of-not-giving-a-thing

Now back to Kringle. Santa might represent an aspect of Christmas, but I feel objects/symbols like him do take away from what the holiday is supposed to represent: the birth of Christ. Christmas has become bigger than that. 

All of this probably makes me more of a Linus Van Pelt. Remember this.

http://youtu.be/CojUP5nRidA

Clearly, I am not the only person who finds Santa Claus problematic. It all began with the following article.

http://www.slate.com/articles/life/holidays/2013/12/santa_claus_an_old_white_man_not_anymore_meet_santa_the_penguin_a_new_christmas.html

If you read this and felt the author was trying to literally incite a massive change in society by protest and rioting, then I might understand the pure anger behind this. 

http://talkingpointsmemo.com/livewire/megyn-kelly-for-all-you-kids-watching-at-home-santa-just-is-white-video

As is often the case, Jon Stewart weighed in on this maelstrom.

http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/4440054?ncid=txtlnkushpmg00000037&ir=Politics

As did others.

http://www.esquire.com/_mobile/blogs/news/fox-news-ignore-stuff?src=spr_FBPAGE&spr_id=1456_35231869

http://www.msnbc.com/disrupt/watch/santa-claus-and-race-baiting-91157059782

http://www.msnbc.com/politicsnation/watch/white-santa-controversy-boils-90253379869

http://www.salon.com/2013/12/16/stop_saying_santa_is_white/

http://www.esquire.com/_mobile/blogs/news/fox-news-ignore-stuff?src=spr_FBPAGE&spr_id=1456_35231869

So, my takeaway is that it was certainly worth a discussion with my wife about Santa Claus, Christmas imagery, and the dismissal by some of other meaningful holidays during these winter months. Because of these conversations, my family and I are strongly considering celebrating Kwanzaa this year, in addition to Christmas. As of now, we acknowledge Santa, more as a spirit of Christmas, then as a chimney hopping visitor. We'll see how long that lasts. Might have to do some creative storytelling with my daughter. Happy Holidays! 

What Do I Share With My Daughter?

I would like to preface this by saying that I speak from the "I" perspective. 

My wife and I believe in speaking with our child clearly, fairly, and intelligently. We have done so since birth. We are happy to have our thinking validated.
http://ideas.time.com/2013/10/01/the-key-to-smarter-kids-talk-to-them/

For us, we didn't adopt "baby talk" since we don't believe in talking down to her. We believe in speaking appropriately to her. I'm often reminded of a line from To Kill a Mockingbird. "Mrs Merriweather was one of those childless adults who find it necessary to assume a different tone of voice when speaking to children." We certainly encounter this phenomenon with not only strangers, but also friends and family. At least they're not as bad as what we endured at a recent playdate at a famous chain of children's party and gym spots. They added "ie" to the end of everything. You haven't lived until you've heard the word "ballie" twenty times in a five minute stretch. I am not immune to this. As much as I try, I still find that I refer to myself in the dreaded 3rd person. My daughter is old enough now so I certainly don't have to speak to her in this patronizing fashion. I have made big strides with this though. 

We also don't use slang or goofy words for things that don't need them. For instance, no Boo Boo, but a scratch. What is a Boo Boo anyway? She uses words like vagina, penis, and nipple as well. I thank Logan Levkoff and her fantastic work for inspiring us and our approach. There is no reason to fear using the correct terms. If you don't know her work, check our her website and blog on the Huffington Post using the links below. Thanks, again, Logan!
http://www.loganlevkoff.com
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-logan-levkoff/

However, there is more to all of this talk about talk. We are also thinking about how we speak to our daughter about bigger issues. Not too long ago, I had an interesting conversation with my wife. (Borderline debate actually. And it's not over yet either.) We've tried to let our now 2.5 year old daughter forge her own identity by offering lots and lots of things and people as possible influences.  
So, our conversation became interesting when we started to discuss our child's library. As a former independent school diversity director, I feel that a diverse library is essential. Books that challenge stereotypes, show a variety of family configurations, and have characters that look like our multiracial daughter are a must.
Where my wife and I started to differ was how much do we influence her political views. What this debate really came down to was how we were each raised. My wife says she was raised without any discussion of politics. Her parents focused on the importance of treating people with respect. I grew up differently. Although following the golden rule was just as essential in my upbringing, I was raised to be very aware of my race. And that others would also be aware of my race. We watched Roots, which continues to have an impact on me. We listened to Dr. King's I Have a Dream speech. I was read Stories for Free Children from Ms. Magazine. I was taken to pro-choice rallies. My mother worked for women's organizations. At those organizations, I befriended some of my mother's lesbian co-workers, some of whom are lesbians, who taught me a valuable lesson that love is love. My mother truly wanted me to be a more modern and sensitive male. (Think it worked, Mom. Thanks.) 

This debate and my contemplation after have led me to these conclusions.

1) I am convinced that people in underrepresented groups do not have the luxury or privilege of being quiet and letting views develop on their own, especially when fighting for civil rights is part of your history.

2) I remain convinced that by the general nature of my daughter's "village" and her diverse library, she would most likely lean liberal. 

But, are we obligated to raise a child to believe the same essential things that we hold true? It seems as if the majority of the people who support these essentials (i.e. marriage equality, fair pay for women, racism still exists) are liberal and Democrats. Should we subtly and not so subtly influence her to vote along these same party lines? I am thinking more and more that the answer to this is yes. Not because I want to impose my will. But because I feel it is the right thing to do. And I want our family to be on the right side of history when it comes to these issues. To be fair, my wife makes some great points about holding back the political nature of some of our comments. I just wish some of these issues were not so politicized. So, we will continue this conversation. 

Race: Visualizing Change

Check this out!

http://proof.nationalgeographic.com/2013/09/17/visualizing-change/?goback=.gde_3740047_member_5797845005682884608#%21

Speaking of race, the organization, Border Crossers has been doing some excellent work in regards to race and discussing race with children. Their mission: Border Crossers trains and equips educators to be leaders of racial justice in their schools and communities. We believe that if educators are prepared to have meaningful conversations about identity and equity, students will be able interrupt patterns of racism and injustice in their own lives and thrive in a multicultural society. 
This is incredibly valuable work. Check out the website and support their current drive. Money well spent!
http://www.bordercrossers.org/who-we-are/

Waterworks

FYI. There are some spoilers in this entry. Read at your own risk. :)

I love being a husband and father. Truly. People offered advice to me on being both. Honestly, nearly all of it was not helpful. Or honest. You see, I think they were holding back. All everyone focused on was poop for some reason. Honestly, the sheer amount of poop was of great concern to me, but no one told me that everything remotely connected to being a father would make me cry. Yep. When I became a father seems like everything started to make me cry. 

The Best Man Holiday-I was a mess. Sick parent who might not see her kids again. Done. Waterworks.

Road to Perdition-I cried at moments throughout, but at no point more than the end, when young Michael Sullivan drops this doozy. "When people ask me if Michael Sullivan was a good man or if there was no good in him at all, I always give the same answer. I just tell them, 'He was my father.'" Waterworks. 

The Pursuit of Happyness-I have tried to watch this film for the past week. I am literally only five minutes in. I cry about 30 seconds into each viewing. Seeing Will hustle to get his son to daycare in Chinatown, not their neighborhood, but the only center they could afford, is just too real. Then, Will Smith as Chris Gardner, my favorite cinematic father, says that he was 28 when he first met his father. Waterworks. 

Those are just to name a few. I have also cried during family themed commercials. That Cheerios commercial with the multiracial family. Waterworks. There is a family that looks like ours! That's a reason to be emotional, right? 

Reading books for the first time since becoming a parent has also changed. I read Things Fall Apart a few months ago and the relationship of the main character Okonkwo and his father as well as Okonkwo and his kids was easier to appreciate now. I can't believe this sense of clarity I had while reading it. 

I used to reserve my tears for the heartwrencing death of Spock in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. The bagpipes during the funeral. Kirk getting choked up. Waterworks, since age 10. 

Look, I'm not at all ashamed for being emotional. I knew life would be different as a parent. I just didn't realize I would go through so many tissues. And wipes. Can't beat their softness. To be fair, I am not just letting the waterworks flow. I also experience other feelings. When seeing The Wolf of Wall Street, I was infuriated when Jordan Belfort hit his wife and put his child in complete danger. One of the more squirm inducing film moments for me. 

So, I offer this as a piece of advice for those of you who are either thinking about having children or have young children. There is a good chance you might cry more than you ever have before. And that's just fine. Just stock up on the wipes.

What films/books/commercials/etc. make those of you with children break out the ol' waterworks?

Elitist Bowling

My wife and I decided that we wanted to bowl during our Anniversary StayCation. We headed to Bowlmor by Union Square (NYC for those unfamiliar). When we went in, I noticed this sign. I do take this sign as very coded language. Bowlmor can say what they want, but it is clear they are doing some profiling. And their top floor houses the Greenwich Village Country Club. We decided to do something else instead. Besides the fact, when did I have to start dressing up to bowl.

The Importance of November 7: Part II

My wedding anniversary is also on November 7. To be honest, I never thought I would be married. I never had marriage modeled for me as a child. Being a bachelor felt right. I lived in New York City after all. But, as I look back on what led me to "the best thing I got going", I now realize that failed relationships have played a surprising role in the success of my marriage. Failure clearly happened for a reason. Due to these failures, I was able to realize much about myself. I needed someone who would truly communicate with me, because honest dialogue is healthy. I needed someone who valued family. I needed someone who had the chops and desire to potentially be a parent. Failure in past relationships helped to create a foundation for my current successful relationship.
I now have that partner. We butt heads. Let's be clear. But, we do so not in a hurtful way, but to create a clearer dialogue. And to uncover the root of an issue. I couldn't imagine a better partner for me in parenting. I couldn't be happier in general.

I love that my wife pushed me to attend grad school. Because of her, I have a masters degree from an Ivy League institution. Pretty cool.

I love that she has supported me in my desire to stay home with our child. Even cooler!

I love that she asks my opinion about things she doesn't need to.

I love how she laughs. And smiles.

I love how I can make her forget a bad day by kissing her neck.

I love that she loves learning.

I love that she doesn't try to change me and let's me be the geeky fanboy and sports fan I need to be.

I love that my blackness is not a novelty to her and that she respects my need to discuss race.

I love that she challenges me to be healthy. 

I love that she doesn't like zombies.

I love that she loves things that I don't love.

I could go on and on.
It's wild to think that I am just as in love now as I was that chilly day five years ago. Here's to another five years, and another, and another, and . . .

The Importance of November 7: Part I

I grew up a product of two women: my mother and my grandmother. I am certainly who I am today due in some part to what they provided me as a youth. Three years ago, on November 7, my grandmother passed away at the age of 85. I was particularly close to my grandmother, although our relationship certainly had its rocky moments. She was there for me in some tough stretches. She gave me hugs, mac and cheese, unwanted lectures about my faith, fried chicken, hard times about not bringing a great grandchild into existence quickly enough, and sloppy wet kisses. I feel blessed to have had so much time with her, but it's hard not to be disappointed that she left us only months before the birth of that desired great grandchild.
I want to share something. I feel I need to so that I might finally move past my feelings. To this day, I am somewhat resentful of how my grandmother's memorial service went down. We tried to create something that honored my grandmother, but in doing so, we turned over some of the planning to others. There were people claiming to be close friends that couldn't even pronounce my family's last name. I delivered the most difficult speech of my life, and easily the most meaningful one as well, only to have the person that followed tell the audience that although my grandmother loved me, she loved G_d even more. Just not what you want to hear at that moment. In my opinion, a better choice would have been to let my tribute stand. It was MY grandmother after all. I was the only one who spoke that had a long standing relationship with her. This was my final goodbye to my grandmother, and I feel it was somewhat tarnished.
You know, it feels really good to share some of my frustrations. Thankfully, there were things I will always remember fondly when I look back at that service. There were people from so many areas of my life that found time to attend the service. My cousin and I were reminded of the importance of family bonds. It gave me time to remember the good things about the woman who loved me so. I will always have my memories, good and bad, of my grandmother. I look forward to sharing these with my daughter, when it is time to give her a picture of her great grandmother. We miss you, Granny.