did you hear about f3rguson?

I teach boys of color. They are 0scar Grant, M1chael Brown, Trayvon M4rtin, you get the idea. They all wear hoodies and have swagger and they are mostly brilliant (i think most 12 year olds are brilliant, which is why my job is great).

So today we had a walkout - or anyway we participated in the #handsup nationwide walkout in solidarity with boys who've been killed by police aggression. But as deeply as I care about these kids and the madness that's happening in my country, I am not the most articulate speaker on the issues.

I don't want to tell children of color about racism. I don't want to pretend I know what they live. I don't know what the kids know about the killings, and I don't know if they're oversaturated or hungry to discuss it. In Oakland it seems to go both ways.

But still. It was a national event and I wanted to let the kids know I live in their world too. And that I'm angry and scared too. So I asked B00ts Riley. He happened to be in my classroom this morning. Because Oakland.

The kids wrote private notes to themselves about the value of participating in an action like that, or they made signs to hold for the on-campus photographers (their friends and teachers with smartphones). And then they prepared for a lab using electrolysis. And then they went to math class.

I never really know what to do in this job. But caring a hell of a lot goes pretty far.

pretty lady

it's time for the annual "talk about your roots" class...look at this great photo of my grandma Cleo that I just dug up. fam'ly glamour.

hey wait- there's more!

this is a sweet photo of my two grandmas - the one who birthed my mom (right and above) and the one who was my grandpa's second wife (left), who made me dresses, crocheted me blankets, and made sure there were chocolate chips cookies at her house for my visit.

and aw, that's baby Uncle Jon in between. you've met him, haven't you?

just an excellent day

i slept in. i slept in so sweetly in a dream i didn't want to leave, in a soft fluffy bed with a phone turned off.

i didn't make it to yoga (there was a sub).

i went through the bills pile and cleaned it out. i did a load of strange laundry and hung it out to dry. i ate a breakfast of champions: coffee, cake, and prozac. it was perfect.

deposited a check, bought quickie sushi, sang songs and told stories on the way to breathe deep in the clean air, eat melons, tomatoes, peppers straight from the vine. art and love and therapy talk with a friend who's heading towards "old friend" and how sweet is watching friends turn from silver to gold? so sweet.

also sweet- pasta sauce* with no added liquid, which starts as a full pot and boils down to half that, bursting with fresh tomato brightness! shared beers in the hot summer sun and bean chili** with home garden zucchini and tj's carrots. yum. yum yum.

and then! after a stunning sunset and well deserved yawn, a fresh coat of lipstick and toenail polish (over the farm grime, with some body spray because HA!) out for another round of lovely and deep conversations about compromising at work and not killing ourselves for meaninglessness and laughing so hard my sides hurt.

because the neighbors thought her dog's name was "pimpin"

because my kid learned at day care to say "black is beautiful"

because our neighborhood's real life drama is too racist for TV

it's a beautiful day and i'm a lucky mama, even without my little man next to me.

*(recipe: one small onion, 3 cloves garlic, one half poblano, salt, fresh ground pepper, 3 bell peppers diced, fill the pot with peeled and coarsely chopped tomatoes, cook til thick)

** (recipe: one large onion, 6 cloves garlic, one large poblano, 2 carrots- disc'ed, 3 large tomatoes, 4 c pinto beans. not so much water, maybe an inch to cover. chili powder, salt, fresh ground pepper, 2 bay leaves. bring to boil, cover, simmer til beans turn the whole pot brown. eat with gayfritos, cheese! and cherry tomatoes.)

about assumptions

I'm starting this blog to bring a voice to the weirdness that is being a  privileged white girl (woman) raising a mixed race kid in a moderately troubled traditionally african american neighborhood in one of the chocolate cities of the USA, Oakland, right by a boho white folks' city...which is, to be fair, in fact increasingly latino and otherwise mixed because well hello it's california in 2010.

So it's not surprising when I walk into the County Services building for a "Parenting Orientation" (um, 19 months late?) and I'm the only white person in the room.

It's also not surprising when, as an only child with a deep, deep loneliness, I look for ways to separate myself from the other people in the room. This is my shit, this is not about culture or race or anything. This just needs therapy.

BUT there seem to be class differences. certainly. maybe? what class am i, really? i identify upper middle white suburban protestant...but are those my people? No. i'm on the verge of being unemployed, have just paid off about $25K in irresponsible dinners out, cute boots and art shows I never could afford, and am investigating food stamps. Oh, and i'm a single mom who shops at Groce Out.

So maybe there aren't class differences after all. maybe i just think I'm supposed to be UMC, and so i feel double guilt- one for thinking I'm better than these working class-ers, and one because I'm not actually affluent like I think I'm supposed to be.

Anyway. Back to Room 260. The woman in the patent leather 3" heels, cheap suit, too much cleavage and huge pearl jewelry is a volunteer. ?? She starts telling 13 strangers about "how you were raised" and "what your kids are like" and i became unhinged. in my WASP way, of course- by slumping in my chair and thinking about the thumbprint peach I was going to eat as soon as this session was over. and trying to meditate. oh California, I also love you.

In her too-familiar way, she told us about what a great parent she was. But it took me a minute to understand where she was going when she started talking about "Tiger"....thankfully, by the time she got to "Janet" and "OJ", I had picked up the tune. But there's no way you can walk in off the street and understand a thing about our 13 situations. except that we're all freaked out and we don't know the way. So tell us creative ways to solve our problems? (yes, please!?) Nope, she told us about her Family Bill of Rights. Tell the single people, fighting with people outside the room somewhere, about your ideal 2 parent, 2 child family with resources for a $300 baseball bat and $150/hr batting lessons. Top it off, for the one in the corner who's fighting to keep her last name and her son's the same with "My kids know what it means to be a Jackson...", and finish with the love and respect your kids have for you and your husband? Try again, Oakland.

welcome to the environmental movement

we're all dating/marrying/partnering interracially.

we're this white as hell office, all good intentioned and smarty pants, and a large portion of us have non-white partners.

not all, ok. but a good number.

is it just the bay area? or is it that this (environment) is where lots of white folks get to plug in?