What's a Vagina?

The moment you realized that you have taught her everything she needed to know about Reputation and Respect. How to sit up straight, and how to tie her shoe laces. How to love herself, and how to listen. How to speak up, and how to dream. You have taught her...but not about what a vagina is.

You want to teach her how it is public. How it shapes, defines, and positions her in the world. How it symbolizes power even in the numbing haze of patriarchy. How it is matriarchal. How it is a poem. How "cuss cuss" is a fake name.

 "Be careful you don't trip the wrong way and hurt your vagina."

 "What's a vagina?"

You point in silence. And all you can say is...

but she breaks the silence,

 "It's my Private part."

35 Things I am Sick and Tired of, But Which Are Here to Stay

(1) Monotony

(2) Poverty

(3) Cellulite

(4) Pretentious people

(5) The devaluation of education

(6) Illiteracy

(7) Domestic abuse

(8) Weight loss commercials

(9) Polite racism

(10) Black peoples' historical inheritance of "doubleness"

(11) Winter

(12) "The Market"

(13) The increasing cost of living

(14) Hearing, "these are the last days"

(15) Unethical practices

(16) Long line-ups

(17) Underemployment

(18) Diseases

(19) Excuses

(20) Fear

(21) Explaining blackness

(22) Single motherhood

(23) Broken homes

(24) Hardened hearts

(25) Carrying the weight of black stereotyping and misrepresentation

(26) Irresponsibility

(27) Inadequate men

(28) Pain and suffering

(29) Discrimination

(30) The unending death and criminalization of YBM

(31) Barriers to success

(32) Pollution

(33) Stretch marks

(34) War

(35) Hunger

Gentle reminder to self, courtesy of an old friend:
"the world owes me nothing, it was here first"

So What

Another uneventful day. I have been waking up half an hour earlier each day, just because. I'm trying to keep track of all the things i need to get done, you know, those readings and papers. Sometimes I wonder if i have a life at all, i mean, I do nothing but study. I guess that makes me a good student. Talking about student, JJ took a couple of her books the other day and put underneath her arm, went to the door all dressed-up and said, "mommy, come on; i'm going to school!" needless to say, I was glad to hear it as my mom told me that i, too, dressed in my sister's school uniform when i was a toddler and that i would sometimes pretend that i was going to school; i even pretended to read their books from cover to cover. So that little J is a real joy to watch; she's following in mommy's footsteps nicely. I'm a very lucky mother.

I have been reading Dionne Brand and Austin Clarke for my summer "Black Canadian Literature" course. Now, i'm on to Brand's, Land to Light On...

JJ just came through the door; gotta go!

Out with the Old

Where did March go, so quickly...looking for March, March...March?!

One paper done, two more to go...

During the past week:

My daughter came home from daycare with a blackeye (and i don't mean Black Eyed Peas). The following day i had asked the sitter if JJ was in a fight with the girls and she replied, "no, i would have told you, for sure!" "JJ was not hit nor did she fall," she said. What am i to do? There was no scratch or bruise so i left it at that. It eventually went down but i wondered if the sitter was being honest. I trust no one.

***
I watched "American Gangster" a couple nights ago and thought it Weird that Denzel plays the role of the lead 'gangster' (i cannot see him as a tough guy so he was lovable the whole time for me). My hobby says that getting Denzel into the lead is an appropriate business move to get people into the theatre. Makes sense. Now, i want to see "The Great Debaters," another Denzel movie. My uncle phoned me about a month ago saying i have to see it; it has been on my list ever since.

***
I went shopping this past week, as well, for children clothing, that is. Got some great deals. Funny, my daughter is still wearing some of her 12 and 18mths clothes (one suit can't fit her yet!). I find it incredible because she's not tiny...

Ooops, JJ just came through the door which means, yep, you guessed it!

My Daughter is...

a victim. of my impulse to tell stories.

My mother had never told me stories. My mother has zero memory of everything that has ever happened to her, it seems. Memory loss? I will never know.

I heard many stories while growing up in the Caribbean, everything from anansi stories to bible stories. They were largely narrated by my friends or their family, usually the mother or grandmother. Occasionally, my sisters would tell me family stories which i always enjoyed; there is nothing more entertaining or sorrowful than digging-up family memory. One aunt is a walking archive; another tells different versions of the same story.

There were other things my mother didn't do,
like, taking a lot of pictures while i was growing up. It explains my obsessive compulsion to take pictures of my daughter. I may have over 500pics of my daughter already and she's barely 2 years old.

My mother's stories are what i miss the most. I missed the experience of cuddling-up to her, inhaling her mother-scent, listening to her words as they roll off her tongue in waves, travelling in milliseconds to get to my tongue...

So i have my own daughter, for political reasons. I need someone to pass things on to. To love enough to care what she hears; to love enough to care that she hears my voice like a march in the dimly lit room, hugging her consciousness.

My daughter is also a victim of my ambition. My mother had not showed me the ways of the world. The blows i received were shocking, sometimes nerve rocking. I refuse to blame her. Perhaps her mother was also silent. I guess i'll never know.

Talking, yes, that's another thing i'm good at. I speak a lot. As if speaking against the painful silence i grew up in. My daughter is also a definite victim of my love for speech. I speechify to her. She doesn't seem to mind. Having her makes me realize just how much i want to be her. I want to become my daughter. Breathing. She breathes life into me. I cannot become my mother. I miss her stories...

Most Memorable Mommy Moments

At 13mths, i took my daughter to the doctor for a check-up because most of her new-born hair had fallen out and the new growth was slow. As we sat in the waiting area with other moms and babies, i tried my best to keep JJ entertained. She giggled and clapped and stood in the stroller to survey the room and the other babies. Finally, she settled down and focused on playing with her socks. Then, out of the blue, she looked the-lady-beside-me straight in the eyes and said, "A, apple; A, apple." Hey, I knew that i was back-up teacher at home, but i hadn't started the alphabet yet!

So the lady said, "Oh, my goodness, how old is she!"

"Thirteen months," i said, equally amazed, and all smiles.

"You must spend a lot of time teaching her at home," she said, curiously.

"Of course," i said, "but she usually initiates it and then i act as back-up."

"Wow," she said, still impressed. I smiled happily.

So i didn't lie about teaching JJ to say A, apple, but i got the pleasure of having her amaze someone else. I capitalized on that moment, and, did i teach her the rest of the alphabet? You bet! At 17mths she burst into my room one morning, sang the alphabet and blew me away.


***
At 15mths, a friend of mine came over to my place to do some paperwork. He has a daughter as well who is 4mths older than JJ. He said that he had been teaching his daughter from the time she was in her mother's womb. I thought, oh my; but i hesitantly told him that i didn't believe in that. I didn't read to JJ when she was in the womb and she's gonna be just fine, i told him (but a part of me wondered if he could be right. That starting from the womb was the best thing you could ever do for your child's education).

"Sunshine, now 19mths, is learning to say B A N A N A and i'm going to start teaching her to count soon!" he said, with all the pleasure of being a proud father, "plus, there are a few words we have been teaching her since she was born, and we are now waiting for the time when she will say them from memory."

"That's great!" i said, with all the sincere emotions of being a proud mother.

Then i thought to myself, JJ counts to 13 unassisted, and she already knows how to say B A N A N A and other things, so maybe she's going to be alright! (actually, she started counting to 5 before she turned 12mths!)


***
At 20mths JJ melted my heart with her spelling, albeit only two words, unassisted: C A T and D A D.


***
Now, at 22mths she is learning to read via phonics. Also, she speaks with verbs and in full sentences, but the little sucker cries for everything and cannot say when she wants to poo poo!

Message for my Daughter

Like so many things in life, i did not choose activism, it was thrust upon me. My activism starts in my home, with my daughter, the future of this country. A few realizations, eye-openers some may say, have prompted my meditation and subsequent decision to write a message for my daughter (and any other children of colour whose parents may be reading). As soon as she is able to understand, which is probably not too far from now, i will tell her the following:

Message for my as-yet- matured daughter, living in Canada.

You are black.
You are female.
You are not the norm.
The norm is white, male, heterosexual, Christian, Eurocentric.
Before you come into this world, you are already created, positioned and defined in multiple ways through language.
Before you encounter the outside-world, your experiences are already constituted by discursive practices (in media, law, medicine, education) which see you as other, strange and tolerable.
As you venture into the world, you must always ask questions, always interrogate, always work to complicate and dislodge hegemonic truths that work to subordinate and silence you.
Always surround yourself with people who are honest and supportive; at times it will be difficult to tell the difference.
Be prepared to work twice as hard for everything and never, ever, surrender for less than your goals.
You will need a thick skin when you enter academia because people (faculty and students) will want to eat you raw.
Be brave, be strong, and remember that your ancestors have survived the journey across the Atlantic and your mother has survived another such journey.
This is not a guide for survival, only a map that points to the gaps, cracks, potholes and shows you the many detours and dead ends that shape the city.
Remember, you are black, female and beautiful, but you are not the norm.

TodNotes

@ 21mths, still my "baby"?

• "Wow, beautiful dress!" --what JJ says when you dress her in anything.

• "Mommy, what you doing?" -- fave question to ask me.

• "Crackers and cheese / ice-cream-chocolate, P L E A S E"-- most frequent answer to what would you like to eat?

• "Mommy / Daddy, say 'goo-goo gaa-gaa,' say 'wow'" (or whatever word she wants to hear you say, for her amusement, of course).

• "JJ, come, Mickey Mouse!" --the only thing that will make her run to me in a haste saying, "okay!" when i need her for anything.

• "Umm, Barney and Friends, Bob the Builder..." --when asked what she wants to "do" on the computer (much wider than the TV selection).

• "Mickey Mouse!" -- her most frequent answer to what would you like to watch (on tv)?

• "Holy shit." -- a new phrase she picks-up from dad (dad now under the process of expelling that from his vocab).

• "Hi baby!" -- what she says to any kid, big or small, when seeing him / her for the first time.

• "It's mine!" -- what she says when she gets a hold of anything.

• "No." -- her answer to anything you ask her that she's not sure about (thank you, lord).

• "Fine, thank you" -- when asked how are you?

• "Quiet!" -- when someone tries to assist her in saying her ABCs / sing a song or anything else that she already knows how to say / do.

• Complete silence -- only when watching Jungle Book / Happy Feet, oh, and when sleeping.

I remember those days ----->

Thick Love

SHARING A KISS

SHARING A JOKE


SHARING A MOMENT

SHARING A SKETCH


SHARING A SQUEEZE

An ECard for JJ

You are as sweet as caramel
and as precious as a gem
you are the throb in our hearts
and the courage in our stride
you have been both a challenge and
a blessing, as young as you are.

First, you entered the world with a bang
and, then, showed us you were ready
to move us with your charm.
You are truly an angel
as you never failed to brighten
and lighten our hearts,
with your happy-go-lucky,
persistent smile

We really hope no one will pinch us
to awake from this dream of
having you as our great big bundle of joy!

Love,
Mom and dad

JJ's Health and Dev.

JJ was hospitalized from Friday morning until Saturday evening due to wheezing and breathing problems. It was her first time so asthma was not yet a diagnosis. She did extremely well despite her illness and cheered, "wee, wee, wee", when paramedics wheeled her out of the doctor's office (even while she was using all her muscles just to inhale and exhale). All the nurses and Pediatrician at the hospital were enthralled by her alleged ability to articulate, and everyone who had met her declared, seriously, that she was an advanced one year old. The Pediatrician told me that JJ is no regular 17mths old and suggested, among other things, that i start her in a Montessori school when she turns two. Oh, she counts to twenty and knows and says a whole lot (too much to make a list). She's very perceptive and responsive and i can't wait to meet her parents (we, the alleged parents, can't remember being "advanced" at such a young age).

What Time is it?

Time is an amazing phenomenon. I became friends with time in the delivery room and we haven't parted since. During labour i begged time for reassurance and pleaded for it's speed. I was consumed by time: the timing of contractions, breathing, pain. At times time stopped, as it was, in my mind. I became nauseated just thinking about time, and when my baby girl was delivered, time and i became even closer: "1 o'clock, feed her, burp her, change her ", "3 o'clock, repeat diapering, feeding and changing", "take a 30minutes nap and repeat procedure", "take a quick shower between baby's nap-time and eat, quickly", "limit yourself to your personal space and be sure to sneak in enough naps as time may run-out!"

At fifteen months old, my daughter still takes much of my time, or is it her time? I still chase time, always trying to catch up. Time has become an obsession, another person in the family. There's breakfast, lunch and dinner time, nap time, play time, story time, visiting time.... time is the master and leader. There is never enough time, still, everything takes time. I had never been more time sensitive: i constantly check my watch, CONSTANTLY; i am always in a rush to catch time because i simply cannot afford to waste time. My life sits behind the wheels of a speeding time, and there are no brakes so i cannot stop time! My time isn't my time and her time dominates all times. I resent time, but i need time as without time i would be timeless; this is why i cannot waste time.... oh, why did i.... what time is it?

My Golden Star

I woke up late this morning because sunshine did not peek through my bedroom window. My friendship with her goes way back, but we haven't been the best of friends lately because she believes that i am using her to get what i want. The truth is, she has an anger problem but doesn't want to admit it because it will deter her other friends from tanning and sun bathing. She gets grumpy when it rains and, at times, won't come out for days. Everyone is happy when she's at her brightest, but no one will stay in her company for too long (because like i said, she has a red hot temper problem). My daughter loves sunshine very much and is adamant about seeing her everyday, so i wrote this poem for her to say to sunshine on her very next grumpy day:

My Golden Star

Sunshine, Sunshine,
where are you?
why won't you come out
and play with me?

I love apples, oranges
and bananas too,
all things pleasant will come
to you

you are my friend,
so glorious and free
today, if i see you,
I'll be sure to let you know
you are my only, lucky
golden star!

On Motherhood

It's not easy being a mom. Having a child takes so much out of you; you forget to comb your hair, check your clothes before throwing them on, heck, you sometimes can't remember if you've taken a shower all day! It's fun, though, to watch your child grow and notice each little development and transformation. I still can't figure out how people with three or four children handle it. Moms should get a check in the mail every month for just being moms; after all, they are responsible, for better or worse, for raising these little aliens to be good and law abiding citizens. I love my daughter to death. I can't imagine life without her in it. The trouble is, my life has never been the same since she entered it: lack of sleep, weight gain, appointments, you name it. It's not all about me anymore that's for sure! I'm now, officially or unofficially, a doctor, teacher, nurse, dietitian, counsellor, personal support worker, secretary, interior designer, general consultant, fashion auditor.... I wonder what kind of woman she will turn out to be? With all my hard work, hmmm, we'll see...