If only it were that simple

I was listening to a talk radio show today, and the host was discussing the latest Don Imus mishap. The host stated that it is often very difficult to discuss racial issues in the media. He identified himself as a 44 year old, White male, and it was his opinion that the moment anyone in the media says something pertaining to race, it can be easily misconstrued, and once that happens the public automatically labels you as a racist. As I was listening and thinking about the points that he was making, he said something that really grabbed my attention. He made the comment, "Any rational person that knows about slavery, realizes how horrible it was, but I'd like to think that we are at a point where we are moving past slavery." *

I sighed aloud, gave Dan a mini-rant about how that statement was short sighted, and silently vowed to turn this into a blog post. So here we go...

The history of U.S. slavery is a painful one. African men, women, and children were abducted from their homes, and forced to move halfway around the world to be used as unpaid servants. These people were auctioned off as cattle or some other type of livestock. Their families were torn apart, mothers and fathers were separated from their children, and wives were separated from their husbands. Slaves were regularly beaten as motivation to work harder, killed for sport, and the women were raped at the master's whim. If women had children in those days, they had no rights to them at all. They were property of the slave owner. These people were robbed of their religion, their culture, they were even robbed of their names (Slaves were often given the last name of their owners. As a result, today, most Black Americans whose ancestry lies in U.S slavery, still retain the surname of their ancestors slave owners).

As if the physical abuse wasn't enough, there was a good amount of mental and emotional abuse that slaves had to endure.
Slaves were consistently told they were ugly, stupid, unworthy of respect, and didn't deserve the same rights as others simply because of their appearance; because of the color of their skin, or the kinkiness in their hair. They were told that they were evil. To sum it all up, Black was bad, White was good, and that's just the way it was. This belief system was regarded as truth by adults, and they in turn taught it to their children. When those children grew up and had children of their own, those very same beliefs were passed down, and the cycle went on and on. Now while the slave owners were instilling these values in their own children, they were also relaying this same information to the slaves themselves, and you know what? The slaves internalized it, and although I don't believe it was intentional, they passed this same belief down to their own children. So what did all of this produce you ask? It produced a nation of both Black and White people that believed that the color of their skin determined their worth. It produced a perception among African-Americans that they were their own worst enemy, and all of this, every bit of it, was based on lies.

Now, U.S. Slavery lasted for over 200 years. Not, 5 years, not 10 years, but 246 years. If we say each generation is about 20 years, slavery lasted for about 12 generations.
After more than two centuries of bondage, slavery became illegal in 1865. The slaves were freed without a dime to their name, but they were freed nonetheless.
But there was a problem. While slavery became illegal in 1865, the legal ramifications of slavery didn't quite end until 1964ish (ie. Civil Rights Act of 1964, Voting Rights Act of 1965) That's basically another 5 generations (1865-1964). And if you notice I said legal ramifications, not social ramifications. Although there were laws on the books that said Blacks were equal, society didn't always agree. If you question whether or not racism was socially acceptable after the Civil Rights Movement, all you need to do is read about the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment, which lasted until the early 70's, to realize racism still existed at that time.

Now I'm sure a lot of you reading, know the history of slavery in the U.S., but I wrote that very abbreviated version of it to say this:

What you see today, in 2008, is the product of 17 generations of struggle, pain, intolerance, fear, hate, and disrespect, with a side of physical, emotional and sexual abuse.
To even imply that what had been built, nurtured, and sustained over 17 generations, can and has been eradicated in 2 generations (1965-2008) is downright insulting. Are we as a nation making strides and moving in the right direction? Without a doubt, the answer to that question is an emphatic yes. But to say that slavery and racism are not relevant to our present day society is foolishness, in my opinion.

* Since I didn't record the talk radio show I can't confirm what I typed was a word for word quote, but that was the sentiment expressed.

Loss of Innocence

Reminisce with me for a moment, will you?

Let's go back in time, way back. Back to when storks delivered babies and little people lived inside the television. Back to a time where Santa Claus was real and the Tooth Fairy left money under your pillow. Yes, lets go back...

Let's go to a time of youth; a time of innocence. Ah yes, the good ol' days.

Remember how much fun it was to play outside for hours on end? Or how thrilled you were when your parents bought a new toy for you?

Speaking of toys, do you see this toy below? This is one of Ian's favorite toys.


He will crawl up to the basketball goal, grab one of the toy basketballs, and DUNK IT! The little scoreboard section lights up, and it plays a little song and there is even fake crowd/applause sounds. It's pretty cool.

Now Ian doesn't know about batteries, or the fact that there is a little lever that trips whenever the ball goes through the goal to signal the music/scoreboard. All he knows is that if he can manage to put that ball through the circle, the baby party will begin.

One morning as I was preparing Ian's bottle, I heard him grab the toy basketball. Just a few moments later, I heard "dun dun na naaaaaaa" (that's the best I can do to imitate the initial sound played when a basket is made. use your imagination).

Me: "Whoo hoo!! Way to go Ian! Yeah!!"

As I continued in the kitchen, I noticed that Ian was silent for a little bit. Just when I was about to check to make sure he didn't get into something he shouldn't have, I heard "dun dun na naaaaaaa".

Me again: "Yippee, Pooh. You made another one." <dun dun na naaaaaaa> "Alright Ian, you're on a ro...." <dun dun na naaaaaaa> "Wow, you're getting really goo..." <dun dun na naaaaaaa>

As you can imagine, by this time I'm eagerly heading towards the living room to see my baby Shaq perform. Busy with visions of NBA drafts, early retirement, and season tickets for my favorite NBA team (the one Ian would be playing for of course), it never dawned on me that while I had been hearing the music to signal a basket had been made, I had not been hearing the basketball go through the hoop.

Yep, that's right. When I got to the living room, this is what I saw.



If you notice, Ian doesn't have a basketball in his hand. Nope, they are both safe and sound. He did figure out that it wasn't the ball going through the hoop that started the fun, it was the lever.

Ah, they grow up so fast :)

Not the best idea I've had

For Father's day, I thought it would be cool to decorate Dan's card with Ian's footprints and handprints (is that a word?). Ian's footprints were so tiny when he was born, I thought it was be a cool comparison to show just how far he has come.

Impressed with my stroke of genius, I loaded Ian up in the car, and off we went to the craft store to buy blue, non-toxic, water soluble paint. After we made our paint purchase, it was time to go to work. "This shouldn't take more than 5 minutes", I thought to myself. "Get the paint, pour it into a container, dab hands/feet, get the imprints, and clean up. No problem."

What I forgot, is that my sweet baby boy is not the same barely mobile baby of few months ago. That baby of yesteryear was content to lay on his playmat or sit in his bouncy chair for hours on end.
The Ian of today, however, he is a mover and a shaker. He can crawl from the living room to the front door in 7 seconds flat. He's got places to go and people to see and he will not remain in one spot for more than, oh, 10 seconds.

All those facts totally slipped my mind.

Anyway, with our newly purchase paint, I grabbed a container and poured a wee bit of the blue paint into it. That was easy enough. I decided to start with his feet. I figured his feet would be the easiest and I would be able to keep a firm grasp on his foot, on the off chance he decided to wiggle his foot around.
I dipped Ian's foot into the blue paint. He had a look on his face that said "I don't know about this" but nothing could have prepared me for what was to come. I went to create the imprint of his foot on the card, and you could've sworn that I stuck his foot into the mouth of a hungry shark. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH" he shrieked, and then he did what any normal person would do when trying to defend yourself against a vicious shark attacking your foot. He kicked. I have never seen his left leg move so fast in my life. He kicked and wiggled away from me and then proceeded to roll in the floor, flailing his legs back and forth. When I finally caught him, both his legs and the floor were smeared with blue paint.

I grabbed this still wriggling child, took him into the bathroom and cleaned his legs and feet. I assured Ian that everything was OK and he calmed down.
The freshly calmed Ian and I went to have a look at the card, and there was blue blob that in no way, shape, or form resembled his foot. "Oh well", I thought. "I'll just forget the feet imprints. We'll have better luck with his hands."

That's right, I, the naive parent, still thought I could manage to get decent handprints from the little one. So we repeated the process, except this time with his left hand.
The reaction was immediate this go 'round. After I removed Ian's hand from the paint, he immediately balled it up into a fist and began yelling. I managed to get him to open his hand and quickly dabbed it on the card before he got his hand free, (the kid is freakishly strong) and then he did it. In an attempt to get the paint off of his hand, he smeared it all over his face.
I again, scooped him up and took him to the bathroom. After I made sure that he didn't have any paint in his mouth, I looked at both of us in the mirror and I completely lost it. I started laughing and I couldn't stop. Ian had managed not only to cover his own face in enough blue paint, making him worthy of smurf status, but I was also the proud owner of a few blue streaks on my face as well.
After we were both all cleaned up, I promised myself to make sure all arts and crafts projects take place outside of the house.

Ah, the joys of parenting.

Future Star? You be the judge

My dad had a dream about Ian. In this dream Ian was an 18 year old young man and my dad made the comment that future Ian looks a lot like the young singer Chris Brown.

So what do you think, is he right? Does Ian have a future as an R&B crooner?

Chris Brown photo from www.Rhapsody.com