It's Mildred D Taylor's Fault

Hi.

If you don't already know, I'm a giant fan of the author and speaker Jen Hatmaker. It's embarrassing really. But I just feel like she's come alongside our generation at such a pivotal time for faith and justice while also being relatable about long walks in Target and parenting fails. I feel like right when I'm struggling with some issue that's plaguing my heart, she comes out with a book about it (or a chapter at least) and talks me down like an older sister. So, if that's not creepy enough for you, I'm not sure what is ;)

I always go into a period of mourning when I've finished a great book and her latest "Of Mess and Moxie" was no exception. I listened to most of it and between side-splitting belly laughs and sobbing at my computer while I was editing pictures, it left its mark on me. 

But then it was done.

Enter her podcast. 

To be honest, I really didn't understand podcasts for the longest time. Now I understand that they are like "radio shows" really. You can "subscribe" and then listen to the different episodes. So, as I've been editing my pictures during this busy photo season, I've been listening to Jen's podcasts.

For the first few she's had ladies on under the umbrella of "For the Love of Girlfriends." At least twice her guests have mentioned that they write "to understand the world" and I gasped. THAT'S IT! That's why I write. And lately, there's so much that I'm seeking to understand. Every week there's an issue so pricking my soul that I look longingly at my blog and want to pour out on it because I don't know what else to do. Then, the next week, something else is in the news that begs for our attention (or dismissal).

So here I go. This blog feels safe. It's mine. Hardly anyone reads it. And if you do, it's because you already love me and know how I need to write. Facebook just doesn't offer that same understanding or protection. Even though it feels good to post, or repost or rant, no issue is as one-sided as Facebook can make it feel. These issues (race, gun control, politics, foreign relations) are nuanced. And when we post and rage we isolate and distance the very people we should be coming closer to understand. 

****

I think it all started for me when I read Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry. It was by Mildred D. Taylor and I was in 3rd grade. It was about a little girl living in the south, post slavery time. But oppression was still alive and well. There were big themes and scary events, but told from the point of view from a girl my age. I was changed. I couldn't believe the injustice, the horrible treatment, the fear that the Logan family lived in just because the color of their skin. I devoured the rest of the series. But that was a long time ago, and things got better for African Americans, right? Enter 3rd grade when I learned about Martin Luther King Jr. and his fight for Civil Rights. I saw pictures of people of color being ambushed by fire hoses and attacked by police dogs, just because they wanted equal treatment in our country. I saw signs that said "Whites Only" on water fountains and bathrooms and lunch counters. I learned about Rosa Parks. That was not too far from the time I was living in...only 30 years prior. I did what I do when I want to claim something as my own; to not forget it. I clipped out copies of Martin's "I Have a Dream" speech. I copied it down in my own writing to save. I didn't know my place in this whole narrative, being a white girl in suburbia, but I knew that it touched my core and I wouldn't ever be the same after knowing these things.

Enter college. Me, a well-meaning, well-intentioned girl learned that saying "I don't see color. We're all the same." was actually not loving or helpful, but possibly a little ignorant. Not out of a place of malice of course, but realizing that saying that took away from the reality that people of color were living. We're not the same. Because I was born white I have privileges that other people don't, right out of the gate. People would stop quickly for me if I had car trouble on the side of the road. No one usually assumes I'm shop lifting. No one is scared of me. I will get jobs, benefits, better pay easier. That's just TRUE. It's not my fault. It's just the starting line in this race of life is at a better spot than someone else. Acknowledging this was a start at trying to see what it looked like to be someone else in this country.

Then I took education classes on my way to being an elementary school teacher and I started to look critically at children's literature. Why were most of the books in any given classroom filled with pictures of white boys and girls with blonde hair and blue eyes? Had I even ever noticed that before? What is that saying to a little girl with brown skin? No wonder most girls grow up thinking that THAT face is the face of beauty. I became impassioned to own and get my hands on books that showed ALL kinds of kids, so that every little body in my future classroom felt like they belonged in the world. Again, this isn't wrong to be white. To be blonde. But it's just gracious and others -focused to see that we've been at the front of the line for so long and move aside to let others have a spot.

***

Ever since then, my heart beats for these issues. I read books that speak to this. I watch shows (right now "Blackish") that talk about what it means to be a person of color in America. Even in the UNIVERSALLY loved show "This is Us" the character of Randall, a successful, wealthy African American man talks about being followed in stores, pulled over often. When I talked to Ben about this he recounted conversations that he's had with men in a bible study he's in that are similar. It's just real and true. You just have to look around a little and listen to see it. I realize that no matter WHO you are, you have a bias. You see the world as YOU see it. And until you sit and ask what it's like to be someone else, you can't know. And you can't really help to fight for your neighbor's rights if you don't know there's a problem. Sadly, I don't have many people to ask. We're pretty homogenized here. But then I open my eyes and see that God has placed me in the community of many hispanic neighbors and friends. I'm always going to be bumbling. I'm always going to be awkward and make mistakes in these race conversations. But all I know is that God made ME to care about making sure I'm taking care of my neighbors and I rage at injustice. So when these very issues became the headlines every day, and it felt like this strain of hate for the other (or maybe passive indifference at the experience lots of americans were having) was everywhere, my thoughts couldn't leave it. What was I supposed to do? I still don't know. But I'm asking God a lot. And grabbing coffee with people who may have some insight I don't have. And reading. Lots of reading. Because that's like talking to someone sometimes. And raising kids who see lots of different kinds of people in the books around our house (because that's just as important for them as it is for kids with darker skin). I want to be a bridge builder. And I want friends to do it with. We're here to protect each other and I want to be known as someone who did.

Want to join me. More love. Less hate. And PLEASE less condemnation for other people in different places on the journey. I SO see how you can change your perspective over time. All it takes is knowing more people who are different than you. REALLY knowing them. Enough to ask them what it really is like for them on a day to day basis. 

Here's some books:

This was a long one. And nothing very overt or instructive. Just an eye-opener to many different subtle themes of race.

This is on my list to read. But I need a light-hearted one now. 

Okay. My heart feels a little lighter now after dumping some of that off. And, in the wake of Las Vegas and all of that, it's also okay to take a break. xo

How You Know You Have A Mimi In Your House

Mimis, though they can be messy and require many craft supplies, are still wonderful to have in a house.

How would you know if you have a Mimi in your house? Well, I've taken the responsibility of writing this post to show you all of the indicators.

First, your house will have piles of the most random things, and you will wonder what on earth took place on the bench of your living room.

An ice pack, markers, a doily? A bag of play dough, pearler beads (oh yes. If you have a Mimi in your house, you will know what Pearler beads are) and a paper towel? Even though there will be no trace of a Mimi, she will leave her mark.

****

A jar of slime on a roasting pan? In your BATHROOM?

Second, all signs will point to you having a "Mimi-Infestation" if there are glue sticks. Everywhere. You will clean the kitchen floor, and one will roll out from under the stove. 

You will find them in drawers, under couches and on any flat surface. You will throw them away at one point. Until your Mimi requests more glue sticks. Then you will curse the day that glue sticks were invented.

Third, you will know you have a Mimi in your house if there are "in process projects" spanning the length of your house:

And, at this point, you may think it may be a good thing that you have a Mimi in your house, because she may wind up as a designer on project runway, and then you will get to meet Michael Kors.

Lastly, you WILL have a jar of the smallest beads ever in the biggest jar ever hanging out in your living room. 

You will have nightmares about what could happen if this lid was too loose and they all escaped out. (I still shutter even writing that).

**** 

Still not sure if you have a Mimi residing with you?

Here are a few more examples of indicators that Mimi is living in your domicile:

There will be Flamingoes. LOTS and LOTS of Flamingoes.

And just when you think that Flamingos are taking over your house, you'll stumble on loads and loads of Beenie Boos that Mimi has collected in a pile. (Mimis are also hoarders).

If you haven't found any of these signs in your home, then the next place to look is your phone. Suddenly, one day, you will see MILLIONS of photos of dolls. Like a doll photographer shot a doll fashion show. In your house. Without you even knowing.

You will wonder if these dolls' clothes are expensive and if they cost more than your clothes (they do). But that's an issue to be tackled at a later date. (Another piece of evidence to a Mimi living with you is your bank account. There will be lots of money spent at Michaels, The American Girl store and no Target is safe. )

***

One day, while humming a tune and minding your own business, you will walk into a room and find this: 

Like a mouse with an appetite for candy and crafts has infiltrated this corner of your house. 

You will want to throw it all away, but will take a picture first for evidence. 

And oh yes. No surface is safe from a Mimi's artistic flair. 

Mimis aren't naughty or malicious. They just love art. SO.MUCH.

(If you have a Mimi in your house, you make a mental note to hide the spray paint).

WAIT! This just in!!!

If you're stealthy and quick with your camera, you may be able to catch a picture of an ACTUAL MIMI!!!!!

She's colorful. Sassy. And looks just as creative as the trail of debris she leaves behind her wherever she goes.

Though messy, may you be so lucky to have a Mimi in your house. You life will be more vibrant, more of an adventure than you could ever imagine.

(Just invest in a dust buster).

*****