On Socialization

I was doing some summer reading comprehension with the boys the other day and we read a story where there was a prince and a princess and a witch and the witch had cast a spell on the princess’ hair and it was ultimately the prince who saved her by helping to provide what was needed to break the spell and return her hair to it’s beauty. It’s a story we’ve all read over and over with slight change in circumstances and smaller details but where the characters largely remain the same as do the roles. I asked the boys what messages they thought it sent and asked them how different those messages would be if it were the princess saving the prince or if there were two princes and no princess and vice versa. And why hair, specifically women’s hair, was even subjected to the curse at all (aka what do we value as a society and why?).

I’ve mentioned the word “socialization” to them a lot in our conversations about race; oftentimes telling them that so much of racism has to do with the way we’ve been socialized but also explaining that this wasn’t a concept I expected them to understand now but rather one we’d keep bringing up until the language was familiar and then, the concept.

But this story of the prince and the princess and the witch and the spell upon the princess’ hair was a perfect example in how socialization works; how when we participate in a society, we are fed subtle messages constantly and being the smart beings that we are, we are drawing repeated conclusions. Both the messages and the conclusions tend to be the same, over and over again.

The messages from the story: women should care about beauty, men should be saviors, women should wait on and rely upon men to save them, heterosexual love is the standard.

Questions I discussed with them: have you ever seen a children’s movie or show where there were two moms or two dads? And if so, was their sexual orientation the center of the plot? (AKA, have you ever seen a family show where the family is gay but them being gay isn’t the central theme of the show —> AKA, have you ever seen a show where being gay is presented as the norm and no added explanation is needed or given?) Have you ever seen a movie or show where it was the man’s hair or face or clothing that was cursed and / or required “fixing”? Have you ever seen a movie or read a story where a man appeared helpless until a woman came to save him? —-> And, most importantly, how would these changes to the stories we read and the shows we watch affect the messages and conclusions we ingest from them?

What we think of as subtle really isn’t so subtle, is it? It’s rather blatant.

I’m damn near 40 and I’m only now scratching the surface on all the ways I’ve been socialized to believe certain things not only about gender, but also about race; the ways we receive messages from often narrow and repetitive media representations, jokes, omissions… And how both race and gender are *social constructs*. I have a lot of ideas in my head, lots of thoughts, lots of observations, but I can’t seem to draw any one conclusion because I can’t stop asking more questions. I’m encouraging my boys to do the same. Notes to self: Keep asking critical questions and don’t allow yourself to get buried in the enormity of it all. When you feel like tuning out is when you need to be tuning in.

Happy Birthday, Van

Dear Van,

I can’t believe it was eight years ago today that I was in the back of an ambulance on my way to the hospital. A birth that didn’t go as planned, highlighting what I know to be eight-years-later of just another opportunity in motherhood – but really, in life – where there is nothing left to do but surrender. You came in your own way, on your own time. You have that same perseverance to this day; a perseverance that balances right on the edge of stubbornness.

You’ve needed me in ways that constantly have me questioning if I’m giving you enough, if I am enough. I hope I am.

Your ability to feel and to feel it all so deeply is your superpower. We’re working on pairing those feelings with words; the connection and the subsequent release, the forever goal. You are always willing to learn; not always in the moment… in fact, rarely in the moment. But we circle back around when we can and find a place of understanding. And for your willingness, I’m so grateful.

You’re in the unique position to be both a big brother and a little brother and I know that’s hard at times. I see you. And I see the struggle. I also see a blossoming leader and a loyal friend. I see your love for your brothers, not always at the start of the day but always by the end of the day. Or maybe some days it’s the reverse.

This year is tough with Covid. Last year was tough with your Papa and I’s divorce. Together, we’ve learned we can do hard things. We’re doing hard things. There’s no one I’d rather grow strong alongside. You have fueled my own motivation to grow through what I go through. I hope I can be, or have been, the same to you. It’s my forever goal to show you; actions over words, always.

Today is all about you. A celebration of you. I’m so happy we get to do this life together. You are my light, my love, and my endless supply of lessons; reminding me to continuously surrender and to get up and try again. Over and over. Happy Birthday. I love you.

-Mama

On Failure

July 2019 | I heard this speech by Oprah today where she insisted falling is not failure. She said, “Things will show up and it will look like failure but it really is just life trying to move you in a different direction”.

I recently had a talk with a friend’s daughter about her relationship with her dad and she confided in me that she didn’t really like her dad and wasn’t pained by not having him in her life. As soon as the words “I’m sorry” left my mouth, I regretted them. Mostly because I’ve heard the same words so much as of late; people, with good intentions, throwing their pity at my divorce when I’m in no way pitying myself.

I can remember when I ended a relationship in my early 20’s and I filled a page in my journal with the repetitious words “thank you” and “fuck you”; a symbol of my constant flip flop of emotions. Fuck you for hurting me but thank you for the cleared path. They really can mean the same thing, depending on your perspective.

I quickly retracted my words and she looked at me with some confusion as I said, “you know, I’m not really sorry for you though. I’m happy for you. It sounds like he’s not worthy of being in your life and no one should have anyone in their life that is not worthy of their love. So congratulations”. I’d never seen her face so light, so free. With her eyes fiercely confident, she gave me a hard nod and said, “thank you”.

Not always fuck you, sometimes thank you.

Note to self: find perspective and then take the next indicated step.

San Francisco

December 2020 – January 2021 | My blog has become an area of paralysis in my life because I just don’t have the time and energy to breath life into it. I have hundreds of pictures of moments that have since past with no words to infuse the story. And I’m surrendering in hopes that the images themselves can do that for me. Accepting that I’ll never have the time and energy to give all I know it deserves but that perfection cannot be my goal. That it’s the perfection that’s paralyzing, not this space.
 
And so, this is how we rung in the new year. A year that, on the heels of my divorce, I had been waiting for; the year that was supposed to laugh in the face of all the hardships from the year that preceded it. And yet, it’s been anything but for so many of us. 
 
We hit up every skate park we could find, crossing the bridge over to Berkley and Oakland, as well as to Marin. We frequented Ocean Beach, skated down Mission Street, caught sunset at Twin Peaks, visited the painted ladies, took a boat over to Alcatraz, explored the Surto Baths, took the BART into downtown… all the things I can remember loving about living there with some tailored-to-them tourist excursions for good measure.
 
Knowing that we came here when Hooper and Van were little (it was actually our first road trip with them!), I got sucked into the vortex of watching this old video and scrolling through these old pictures. These memories don’t make me sad, I’m trying to tap into why; thinking it’s because I question if any of it was ever authentic to begin with. In any event, I can see the hump in my back, which tells me it was prior to having 2 rods and 27 screws hammered into my spine to fuse 13 levels (due to scoliosis). It’s also nice to see how far I’ve come with photography. And cool to see that I’ve been writing here for over 7 years now… 
 
We had other plans for the summer, as I’m sure several have, but in lieu of the pandemic and in keeping with what we can do while social distancing and avoiding airplanes, we’re headed back to Bay. To make more memories. And visit more skateparks.