Imagine That

Imagine that........

Since lady-girl has been in school she has been in an environment composed primarily of Blacks (African & Indian & Whatever-else). Some of these Blacks were African-American, some were African, some were French and English speaking Caribbean Blacks, some were Latinos of obvious African descent, some considered themselves to be multi-racial, and so on-and so on-and so on. Since lady-girl was three she was a member of New Light Baptist School of Excellence. As our church home changed over the years our religious experience has been primarily with people of African descent, until recently. About two years ago we began visiting and then attending a church that has transethnicity as a core value. This church has a youth oriented Sunday school program that I found very compelling and exciting, exciting enuf' to get me back into going to church to ensure that my children continued to receive the religious training that they were used to. While the kindergarten teachers in the church school taught the students a lot of great religious material, my Kids had received extremely in-depth instruction in those curricula items in New Light Baptist School so the church school classes were reviews of old materials. My son used to state "We learned that two years ago" after leaving a lot of the Church school classes although he enjoyed the snack and his church-school peers.

My son attended New Light Baptist until he became a first grader. I wanted to ensure that the morals and instruction that he received in New Light was continued, and I thought that New Life (The transethnic church) could provide him with something close to the religious based education that New Light Baptist School provided as he was now in a public school. He is now a third grader and she is a first grader both attending Windsor Oaks Elementary School in Virginia Beach, VA (click here to see their school photos). Interestingly enough, New Light Baptist School is across the street and around the corner from New Life Providence. New Light Baptist describes itself in this manner: "The New Light Baptist School of Excellence opened its doors in August 1989 with a clear purpose: to provide a holistic education to young children with the goal of building and solidifying their foundation. To fulfill our purpose and meet our goal, New Light became the first black Christian school in Virginia Beach, VA, to utilize the Abeka program. Abeka provides an excellent curriculum while giving meaning to the “holistic” approach to education with its significant focus on Praise and Worship. "

I was away in North Carolina on a trip the day that the Wifey' and the kiddies went to meet their new teachers for the 2008-2009 school year. After meeting her new teacher the lady-girl told her granny about the meet-and-greet. "Imagine that... A White woman trying to teach a Black girl something." My Lil' one has had a time in her young six years where every important Woman in her life had been a woman of some type of African descent. Her reverence to these women echoed in this statement. As the story was relayed to me I had to think about her response for a few days. I'm sure there are numerous people who might find that statement as racist or prejudiced, or something along that line, yet I have come to view this in proud manner. My parents' generation, and these before it have all suffered from Black-inferiority complex. My Lil' one is proud of her ancestry and all that comes with it. For now.......

I am almost shattered thinking that at some point in her life she will really need to battle with a feeling of self worth. Although she will never hear it from a White person she is going to be trained into thinking that the African tightly curled hair that she has is inferior. She now spends hours pressing her hair in an effort to 'tame' it's African nature. She is now self conscious about getting her hair wet after it's been styled as the natural water will change her "done" hair back to it's African nature. She has to get her hair "Done" since it's "Undone" if it isn't pressed. My Black women are going to be the ones who giver her a complex first, then the male children of these Black women are going to rate her as less than desirable if her hair isn't straight. There are many issues in the African diaspora that demonstrate our shared Black-inferiority complex. Bleaching cream, hair pressing, even the devaluing of the names that have been created in Black communities and calling these names "Ghetto Names" while placing value on names that have been created and developed in Europe. My dad tells me of the times when Black oriented magazines initially used White models since Black women wouldn't buy items promoted using a Black model. I find this paradigm of Black-inferiority throughout the world when studying post Colombian history.

So I hear progress in her comment. Her paradigm was going to shift and she nailed it. She was moving from being solely taught by Women of primarily African descent to a Woman of primarily European decent. Imagine that, her paradigm shift statement showed us how much our lot in America has changed. There was a time when the White teacher would automatically hold greater esteem in the world than a Black teacher. I know elders in our community who still hold their breath as they pass or interact with White peers for fear that the American progress they have witnessed was simply a dream. Decades later I still see my father fight to stop trembling as he nears a police officer as he survived the times of racist Police brutality. The Black Power revolution that occurred during the Civil Rights era was so very necessary to begin fighting this Black-inferiority complex. Our radical embrace of ourselves was so necessary to now move into a natural, non-radical, self accepting place that our American people have come into. This was a new experience for her and her outlook on life is a new outlook for many older Blacks. When sharing this experience with older Black women I've received smiles and words sharing how unbelievable it is for a Black child to hold these Black women in such a regard that she would be surprised by having a White teacher.

Her generation will slowly walk away untethered the germ of Black-inferiority. I thank GOD for New Light Baptist, I thank GOD for her new teacher (whom she loves), I thank GOD for this new outlook. The world will be changed.

Post-script.

Weeks later as the Lil' one was doing her homework the Grandma joked by saying "Imagine that... A Black girl doing homework given to her by a White woman." Without missing a beat Lady-girl retorted "Imagine that....A Black Grandma checking the homework done by a Black girl doing homework given to her by a White woman."........... Imagine that.

Synchronicity

Excerpts from Na'Im Akbar's definition of manhood:



The process of educating our boys requires. . . early work responsibilities, management responsibilities and social responsibilities. . .A man must understand that his decisions are binding and there is real import to decisions

The First Feelings of Fatherhood

Roman calendar June ninth in the Christian year 2000. This was a Friday morning. I'd secretly call him Kofi (male child born on a friday) and he would be known as "Trooper" for the first seven days of his life. The hospital recorded him as Baby Varner.

Weeks prior the staff at the hospital shared with me and the expectant Wifey that a child had to have a name prior to leaving the hospital. I told her than it wasn't the tradition of my culture to name the child upon birth. She asked me what my culture was. I said 'Pan-African' (I had to come up with something, I wasn't prepared for that question). I then asked her if she would have this conversation with me if she thought I was Jewish. She admitted that if she thought I was Jewish she wouldn't have asked for the name prior to birth. Seventeen months later as the Wifey and I had our pre-delivery session at the hospital the hospital staff smiled at me when she omitted the section for the child's name saying "You'll name the child in seven days right...?"

The first time I held my child was marvelous, magnificent, and truthfully ............ I don't remember it. I remember doing the counter-pressure pushing against Wifey's back as she screamed bloody murder providing me with the 'natural' birth that she knew that I wanted our child to have. She was a trooper also. He came out screaming bloody murder as I fell onto my knees to worship but ended up barking like an Omega as the doctor stated "You have a son." The look on the doctors face was priceless. He didn't know what to think of me in earlier sessions and today I'm in the Grand Buba that I wore at my nuptials, and that I plan to be buried in barking loudly. The family was in the room outside the delivery room and they came rushing in after I scared the Doctor and delivery staff excited awaiting the newest VArner child. My brother Daniel videotaped the whole event, he almost fainted when the son came through the delivery canal. On the video that he captured you can see the baby's head pop though and then Daniel says "Oh my God" and the camera lens goes from the delivery scene to the ceiling with the sound of a thud as his head hit the wall.

That day: I remember pouring libation and praying, thanking God for a safe delivery and a son. I remember taking him to the nursery and I remember how he wouldn't stop crying in the hospital room. I don't remember touching my son.

I know I cut his umbilical cord. I know I changed his diaper. I know I fed him. I know I cleaned him. I know I wrapped him in swaddles. I just don't remember holding him.

This became important to me as I was watching "City of Men", the Brazilian film of one of the worst areas in Brazil. During the film a depiction of the nurse encouraging the father to hold the child for the first time. He was afraid. I had held and guided children for over 15 years prior to this day...... I was afraid too. What struck me the most was while watching this movie I realized that I can't remember holding my son for the first time. Seventeen months later I don't remember holding my daughter for the first time. Now the son is eight and the daughter is six and I'm about 50 pounds heavier and I hold them as often as I can. I perform "the blessing of the head ritual" everyday as they prepare to board their bus. I ask God to "bless their head so that they may think of you, bless their face so that they may face you, bless their eyes so that they may seek you, bless their noses so that they may breathe your spirit, bless their mouths so that they may speak of you, bless their ears to that they may hear you, and bless their shoulders to carry your cross." As I finish this the son and I try to punch each other leaving a religious/sentimental moment with a fun filled macho guy touch. The blessing of the daughter's head ends with a big huggie and blown kisses. I may not remember the first touches, but I'm ensuring that they will remember the embraces we shared. Hopefully those embraces will mean as much to them as they mean to me.

My first fatherly feelings: Struggling for cultural continuance, feeling the resistance as the wifey pushed them through, feeling a reason to worship, feeling as reason to express joy, and then fear........... Thanks Almighty, we bless your presence.