Op-Ed

I saw a feature on Good Morning America a couple weeks ago about a mom who parents only through praise. She has completely stopped criticizing her children and I thought to myself, "What a wonderful liar."

That's parent blogging/marketing in a nutshell though. It's a horrible place, generally. Everyone is nice to each other all the time. Except when they're not and then usually it's just a big, flabby, ivory tower slap fight.

We often write about our triumphs and when we write about our failures, there's often something missing. We smooth out the pain. You rarely get that bloody fingernails holding on by a claw feeling. We revel in the beauty and wonder of our children. Then we revel in the beauty and the wonder of all the beautiful and wonderful parents out there blogging beautifully and wonderfully about their beautiful and wonderful children. Collegiality and support are great. I will go on record as saying I support being supportive. The all the time part though . . . Sometimes that'll cause a body to miss a thing or two.

There's this very popular parenting website and on one occasion one of these guys wrote a post about how their toddler didn't recognize a person's race and how it was so "beautiful" because their three year old was "colorblind. Colorblind to race." And when I read that I thought, "That is sooo racist. So white, liberal, racist. Jesus CheeRIST that is bad. Haven't they seen Stephen Colbert do his bit on whites using the term colorblind to describe themselves?"

A white person using the term colorblind is a denial of a human's unique beauty, culture, and personal experience. If a white person is referring to themselves as colorblind and it's not because they can't tell the difference between red and green, they're definitely racist. I thought this was a well-established truth.*

So, I commented on the post. I said, "Wow. Your kid sounds really racist."

There was some hullabaloo and how dare you(s) and don't come backs and is nots and so forth. I replied, "Hey. It's no big deal. He's still young. You can help him with that shit. Just, you know, tell him to stop being a racist. Try telling him that he needs to see and appreciate people for who they are."

Hullaballoo and anger and go away and so forth.

The problem with that story is that it never actually happened. They posted that post, but I never said anything at the time. Remember what I said about everyone being nice to each other all the time? It sucks. And I suck for playing along. Who has one and a half thumbs and a long history of mistakes? This guy.

I really did call a blogger's kid racist once but that kid was like five and he said something to his mom to the effect of "I don't like people with brown skin." That shit is racist. I had to say something in that case. The blogger was upset. Lots of people said things in her defense about how it was natural as kids come in contact with new people to on occasion react at first with some negative feelings. Which is true. It's also racist.

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Calling your white self or your white kid colorblind is kind of a passive racism, but it's still racist. See, you've got your passive racism--self aggrandizing white liberals, people who don't speak up when they should (present company included), any time a person is complicit in the crime of institutionalized racism, etc.--and aggressive racism--burning crosses, violence, use of the n-word, for example. Occasionally you get your passive aggressive racism ("That color doesn't work for me but on you it's great") too.

I don't get the big deal white people have with being called out as racist. We react so horribly. And it is a horrible thing to be. But it's not purely a moral issue, which is I think where people get caught up.

You're white. You've never been black. You had white parents. You were raised in a white neighborhood. You can't understand the experience. Especially if you're male. So when you find yourself being racist, instead of saying "Oh my god. Me? No. No no No never! I'm a good white person!" You should maybe try going, "Ok. What did I do there that was racist? Can I fix it? How do I do that?" And then you figure it out and you move on and do better on the next blog post.

I mean no harm. Everyone makes a mistake now and again. I'm sure the above mentioned bloggers walk relatively unracistly through most of their lives. They're talented and generous guys and everyone seems to like them. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

In this country at this time, remaining quiet is not an option. So while I'm sorry to the blogger(s) I'm calling out in this space, I'm even more sorry that I didn't do it sooner.


HM


*If a person of color tells me that they have no problem with the term colorblind being used to describe a given white person's lack of racism, then in that case I am wrong about the term's racist connotations. That's the way that works.

May 5th

Cinco De Mayo. or as we know it here in the Northeast, Mexican St. Patrick's Day. For those that don't know, Cinco De Mayo celebrates the day when Senor Tostito led the uprising against the imperialist forces of regular potato chips, there by freeing Mexicans to sneak over the border and bring tortilla chips and salsa to all of America to eat with beer or Margaritas while watching sports or movies. Which conversely, then freed the people of Mexico even more so they can cut our grass or become line cooks. At least, that's pretty much what I learned at my daughter's school on monday.

I happened to be volunteering at my school during their Cinco De Mayo festivities this year.

Festivities included (and were limited too):

Making paper sombreros inexpertly decorated to wear on their inexpert heads (except for my daughter who used just the perfectly tasteful amount of little colorful pom-poms, crayon squiggles, and poorly glued sequins. Truly captured the soul of Mexico if by soul of Mexico you mean Taco Bell.)

Eating tortilla chips and lousy salsa at snack time.

End of festivities.

No mention of the Mexican Revolution, the Franco-Mexican war, Hidalgo, Juarez, or Salazar (Author's note: These are Mexican heroes. As a point of pride you should know that I only had to look up three of those names, and two--Hidalgo and Salazar-- I actually recognized due to the fact that the former is the name of a very mediocre Viggo Mortenson film and the latter is a combination of luck and that Hollywood often picks it as the name of the head drug dealer in any given cop movie. America: History Shmistory, your ticket'll be twelve dollars sir.)

Also, for those that might not know, Cinco De Mayo is not a big deal in Mexico. It's more Flag Day than it is Independence Day. Which I'm cool with. Really, I don't mind vaguely racist excuses to drink and try ethnic food. At least something happened in Mexico on Cinco De Mayo. St. Patrick's day in Ireland was originally a small, sad, quiet meal consisting of mutton and depression in honor of St. Patrick Wilson's uncomfortable schtupping of Lena Dunham in Girls. Look it up if you don't believe me. It's science.

I really don't have a problem with the nationwide Margarita throwdown that is the celebration of Cinco De Mayo in the U.S. At least people are thinking about Mexico. A little.

My only issue, and it's an infinitesimal one at that, is that while they had them celebrate Cinco De Mayo at school with a racist hat'n'snack "Fiesta," they mentioned nothing. Not even that bullshit about it being Mexican Independence Day. Just, "here you go guys. Color in these paper hats as offensively as you can and then we'll go have chips!" "Yaaaaay,"the children replied.

Of course, now I'm hungry for nachos. Stupid nachos.


HM

P.S. A photo gallery of traditional Cinco De Mayo art for your enjoyment.

That is one nervous looking cactus. Maybe because it's afraid it'll be deported when the kids are done coloring it. I wonder where the school officials got the "Racist Coloring for Kindergartners Workbook." I can't find it anywhere
The Peanut can color though, can't she? Colored the shit out of that racially stereotyped cactus, that's for sure. Probably she and I should have a little talk about Mexico at some point. She should at least know that most cactuses do not dress that way.

World's record for longest photo caption.

Yaay! Peanut sure can glue the shit of some pom-poms though, can't she? Glues her ass off. 

Hello? Hi.

So where were we? Last we spoke, we had taken the kids to Storyland. It was a fantastic time. The Peanut rode every ride. She loved the scary ones. They had a really decent little one ring circus. The re-creations of the fairy tales were great and the lines were never too bad. We got there two hours before closing time the first day, which was perfect because if you arrive to the park late in the day they give you tickets to get back in the next day. So you can check a couple rides out and case the joint for tomorrow. We spent a total of ten hours in the park and saw about 97 % of it. All in all, except for the racism, it was really an excellent time.

Storyland is a little racist. A smidge of racsim. A shmear if you will. A splash, a dollop, a pinch, a half-teaspoon of good ol' all -American caricature style racism.

Case in point, they had a log flume type ride. It was asian themed. Going with an asian theme for a log flume ride when you're located in the heart of the White Mountains is in itself a little suspect. The ride was entitled Bamboo Shoots (get it?) and the "bamboo" shaped car was adorned with the head of a screaming panda on the front. The cheesy chinese restaurant music, the giant chopsticks, etc. etc. All things that would've been at least mildly offensive to a family that was not quite as focused on the fun.

Then we went on the Pirate ship. That took us out on the water and pass a land entitled "African Safari." Picture little plaster renderings of "African Children." Renderings that more than likely were old lawn jockeys outfitted with dreadlocks and colorful but worn clothing. They played on nets, among trees, and outside a broken down jungle shack.

Good times.

The kids really did love it. And the mountains were amazing. If we ever get it together to bug out of the rat race, that may be where we're headed.

We were only home for a short time before we left for another week in Maine on Lake Sebago with the amazing, the wonderful, the lovely and loving Aunties. We swam almost every day, hiked through the forest primeval, and ate copious amounts of corn on the cob and frozen custard. Life is good.

I would've posted before we left for that trip, but there may or may not have been an accident involving the computer and some vicious gangbangers.  And a rioting London teenager. Whatever happened to the computer, it had absolutely nothing to do with my spilling a cup of hot tea all over the keyboard. Why would I do that?

Anyway, how are things with you?