Presidente Barack Hussein Obama – Orale!

It is definitely a new day and I could not be more grateful for the opportunity to live and mother in this historical period of global transition. The selection of this Black man as the president of the USA has forced me into deep reflection about family, history, mass movement, and human liberation. For one, it took much patience and convincing for me to vote democrat. My radical politics had my heart set on checking the box for Green Party nominees Cynthia McKinney and Rosa Clemente because they were the closest aligned with my personal politics and vision. This Black and Brown team of women were made invisible during this election, but they too made history by being the first non-white women candidates for the most powerful political positions of this country. Yet, I could not turn away from the opportunity to be part of history by voting for a man who would topple the last symbol of institutional white supremacy. His win is a symbol of power for many generations to come.

Plus I have to give much props to the man, he has a mouthpiece that can move the human spirit. He has the gift of giving life to words. The power of la Palabra (the word) has proved to be the real winner in this campaign.  My elders teach that Palabra is one of the most powerful of all creations by humans. La Pabalabra has a life of its own, once spoken. It can destroy as much as it can heal or create. Plus, it can live forever if and when it is passed on from one mouth and one generation to the next. Proving the power of storytelling amongst our families and nations.

Now we have a collective story of our own to share and pass on to our babies. Many who carry non-conforming, non-European names. I heard in a radio interview that in his road to adulthood he chose to use and formalize Barack Hussein Obama as his name. Growing up in a predominant white family, he was given a European surname, which he carried for most of his life. The fact that Obama made a conscious decision to own and connect to a family and historical lineage through his name, is profound and validating. It is for this very reason that my daughter was given and carries an Indigenous, Nahuatl name of Xitlalmina.

I don’t expect much politically from Obama with the current social and economic conditions that he has inherited from Bush, the Democratic Party that he belongs to, and because of the fact that by being Black, he will be picked on, critiqued and threaten for any left-leaning decisions made while in office. However, the national and global paradigm has officially shifted. The impossible has happened, a Black man is the president of a country founded on Indigenous genocide and Black slavery. The oppressed, invisible, disengaged and silent majority (that can legally vote) has spoken and confirmed that together, we are not a political minority. The line has been drawn and crossed.

All of this also confirms that we have hella work to do with our communities and within our families. They cannot be fooled into believing that all will be solved by this one man, this one symbol, this one win. They cannot fall into the lie that racism doesn’t exist and that the fight for social justice is over. I know that the internalized and interpersonal oppression that plays out in my community through violence, abuse, self-degradation, broken families and much more will continue. I know that institutional oppression will perpetuate the status quo, and that the agenda of war and corporate interest will continue to dominate.

Despite all that, I am hopeful and reenergized in my commitment to organize, to empower young people, to fight for my community, and to honor my ancestors. Most importantly, I can’t wait to talk about this moment in time with my daughter. We will continue to dream and talk about a day far into the future when oppression will seize, when we will live in balance with the Earth, in peace with other beings, and in harmony with the universe. I know this sounds crazy, but Barack Hussein Obama won the presidency, and a girl should always dream.

Tlazokomati, thank you Yaocihuatl for inspiring me to write this piece. Hasta La Victoria!

Props to Baba/Papa/Abba!

Welcome to my first blog post!  I had a few options for this new adventure but decided that writing about my husband was most appropriate.  As I write, it is past 9pm and I’m waiting for my husband to come home on this Sunday nite.  Our most wondrous son, Majid, is fast asleep but I’m sure he is playing with Baba (Daddy in Arabic) and laughing in his dreams.

I wanted to write about my sweet, kind-hearted, diligent husband because, in general, babas do not get enuf appreciation, and in particular, because Majid’s Baba is truly an exceptional Baba.  Most of what we mamas of color have to do and have experienced involves our husbands, no?  So it seems fitting that we talk about them.  I never felt comfortable with European/white feminism that polarized men and women, making the sexes so oppositional and contentious.  It seemed that many of such feminist writings seemed to say that in order for women to be empowered, they have to trample on men.  This always seemed inaccurate and detrimental to me, especially b/c my Abba (Daddy in Corean) helped me be the strong woman that I am.  This is part of the reason, of course, that womanism developed b/c feminists of color wanted to be much more family and community centered.  Ummm, anyhow…

When I was pregnant, we decided that I should stay home and raise our baby.  In present day, this means that we live on his income alone so my husband works 50 + hours a week.  And, he decided to get a job that starts early enuf so that after working 16 hours, he can still have a little bit of time with us at home.  Oh, and he goes to school and aces his midterms.  This is the reality of many working class families, right?  We made this sacrifice b/c we decided that it was best for our son to be at home and not go to daycare.  But it really shouldn’t be this arduous to raise your own babies – something’s not right here!  I know for many, it’s not even an option to live on one income.  We can only do it b/c we had simple lives before the baby, and oh yeah, our rent is a little over $600 (yay for rent control!).

But it is difficult to not have my husband around so much.  Especially when Majid asks for his Baba throughout the day.  Those two are so attached, so much in adoration of each other.  Sometimes it seems that Majid can read his Baba’s mind b/c he does things that my husband is sure to like.  This afternoon, I watched my husband watch my son.  What a sight!  I knew that my husband would be a wonderul daddy but I never knew he’d be this great.

As I am finishing this post, I miss my husband look forward to winter break when he’ll be home a little more.

To all the Babas who work their asses off to support their family – PROPS!!!  To all the mamas who hold it together at home – props to you too!  And to all the babies who patiently wait for their sweet daddies to come home – props to you also!

Anti-mama

At the end of the semester last May, I went to a dinner party one of my professors hosted for students in his graduate seminar.  After a few drinks, the academic stiffness began to wear and people loosened up.  In one corner of the house, somewhere between lasagna and the brownies, my fellow classmate began to talk about how she was starting to become “anti-mom.”  Some giggled at her thinking she was messing around but she was dead serious.  She explained that she was sick of moms in Albany pushing these big fat strollers into cafes taking up space and acting very “goddess-like” because of their motherhood.  She turned to me and said quickly, “no offense…I’m not talking about you”.  I realized she wasn’t directing her anger at me but I was still uneasy in that moment (and I’ll get to why later).  Her comment somehow opened the anti-mom floodgate and a barrage of complaints against mamas in territories zoned for singles or adults only commenced.  Before I had time to process it all, the conversation had quickly shifted.

Yesterday, I was walking down the sidewalk on Piedmont Ave. with Mario and was blocked by two white mamas with big expensive trendy strollers.  They had stopped in the middle of sidewalk with lattes in hand, and barely moved out of the way, not even recognizing that I too had a baby and needed some space to maneuver, even after clearing my throat and said “excuse me.”  They were unapologetic about the way they occupied public space and I think part of that attitude might have been amplified because they had their babies with them.  I think the way they took up the sidewalk might also be the way they normally assume they have privilege over certain spaces but having a baby with them gave them more of an excuse to be less accommodating.  I realized where my classmate was going with her anti-mom rant. I was uncomfortable with the rant because of the way she used the term “mother” to lump all mamas together.  We’re such a diverse group but somehow “mom” was immediately attached to a particular class and race of women who move through the world with non-reflexive privilege.

Now regarding the spaces that babies can occupy, I have found that some places are way less tolerant of babies, mamas, and tots.  One of our colorfulmamas group members gave us a review of her trip to Korea and found it much more family friendly than the US.  My friend went to the baby brigade movie night in El Cerrito and was actually hushed when her baby cried! I think there is a lot of education that needs to happen on that end, especially in the bay area where it can sometimes seem like there are more dog advocates than family advocates.

Hello world! … could you hold for a minute?

We are just beginning our journey into internet-land.  Come back later and we’ll be up and writing, reflecting, loving, dreaming, reviewing, theorizing, complaining, explaining, sharing, laughing and more…