Why do you look so mad?

This is my face.  My natural, relaxed, all the time, no matter the season, morning/noon/night face.  And, apparently, I look mad.  Apparently, this is intimidating.  Apparently, this causes complete strangers, mild acquaintances, and close friends to wonder who I want to kill.  But, it's just my normal expression.  And, I only want to kill someone about 67% of the time.  So, calm down people.

I've seen the people who walk around smiling all the time, and I don't trust them.  Who's happy all the time?!  I prefer people who look like they're living in the real world.  People who don't see fairies and gumdrops everywhere they go.

But this is me.  And, maybe I like that my expression makes most people leave me alone.  Maybe I don't want to be friendly and approachable.  Maybe I've been through some stuff that makes me not want people to get close.  Maybe I don't want you to feel like you can walk right up to me and become a part of my life.  Maybe I don't want to watch one more person walk through my heart leaving nothing but pieces in their wake.

I recently tried smiling more.  Well, I wasn't really trying - it was more like I was inspired to smile more.  Know what happened?  It was uncomfortable and awkward.  It made my cheeks sore.  And, I got hurt.  So, no thank you.  I'm back to where I belong and this melancholy is so much more fitting.  It even works in my favor sometimes.  It weeds out the weaker links and allows the stronger ones to shine.  The ones willing to walk right up to you and say "Why are you so mad?".  The ones who will accept the unspoken challenge and try to make me smile.  The ones who will insist they are winning when it happens.  Those moments make this natural face of mine right.

So, the next time you see someone who doesn't look like the sun shines on them all the time, try to remember that maybe it doesn't.  Maybe that person is trying to keep everyone at arm's length (or evil stare's length) for a reason.  And, maybe, don't point out how angry they look... unless you plan on changing it.

"What did you do?!"

After yesterday's post, I got a lot of people asking what exactly I did after overhearing the conversation between the bigot and his son.  Honestly, I didn't put my reaction in the original post because I didn't think I had done enough.  But, after a lot of thought, I don't know that I could've done a lot more.  So...

When he stopped to cross the street, I got as close as I could without holding my breath and said "You're a f*cking idiot".  I said it loud enough that he could hear me but (hopefully) not loud enough for too many others.  Again, we were surrounded by little kids, including two of mine, and I don't speak like that in front of them.  After a long blank stare, he came up with "F*ck you too" and we went our separate ways.

Was this enough to say in that situation?  Was it too much?  Should I have accosted him two feet from the school principal?  Should I have walked away silently so as not to draw attention to his ignorance?  Does this make me a better parent?  A worse one?  I don't think there is a right answer.

Of course, my first reaction was to want to put my hands on him.  There were several problems with this, though.  First, he outweighed me by at least half a semi of Coors Light and several buckets of chicken.  Second, the cigarette stench alone took out half of my lung capacity.  Third, I had dinner to make so a trip to jail would've been quite inconvenient.  Fourth, I am raising three little girls and I stress every single day the overwhelming power of words.

Which brings me to my word choice.  Should I have cussed?  Probably not.  I may speak it with impressive fluency, but vulgarity is not something I choose to use in front of children.  I don't think the girls picked up on that part; but, if they did, they know not to repeat it.  And, in that moment, a simple "Shut up, stupidhead" was not going to suffice.  And, I was limited by the number of syllables I could use.  Remember, I was trying to get the moron to understand me.

So, that was what I did after witnessing the racism that surrounds us still.  I am not one to bite my tongue and that sometimes gets me into trouble.  He could have reacted differently and it could've gotten uglier.  However, in my experience, any man willing to run his mouth is too insecure to use his hands.  And, a mama bear will not go down without a fight.

I'm truly not a confrontational person.  I avoid it at all costs most of the time.  But I'm a single mother working my behind off to raise three strong, self sufficient girls who won't be backed down in the face of anything.  Including big, greasy, ignorant, rednecks with small minds and smaller futures.

It's not the brown one, is it?

I tried and tried to let it go.  Really, I did.  Then I thought: Why?  Why let it go?

After school yesterday, the girls and I got stuck in a long line on the sidewalk. There was a man in front of us walking with a third or fourth grade boy.  The boy was talking about his new "girlfriend".  The GROWN MAN said "It isn't the brown one, is it?".  The boy said, "no".  The GROWN MAN said "Good, cuz that's gross."

GROWN MAN to little boy.

In front of my two little girls and countless other little open minds.

What should I have done in that situation?  I couldn't do what I wanted to because I was holding hands with my Kindergartner.  I couldn't say all the things that were rushing to my mouth because I was surrounded by children.  And, I couldn't just do nothing because I was holding hands with my Kindergartner and surrounded by children.

In our tiny town, I would guess that it's approximately 95% Caucasian.  In the elementary school,there are maybe 20 kids of color.  So, there's a 10% chance this GROWN MAN was referring to one of my two children.  (If so, I assure him that there's a 0% chance his son has a chance in hell of getting one of mine to be his girlfriend.)  But it's not about my girls, it's about that little boy.  The kid who is growing up in a house that still believes that you can judge someone based on the small facets of themselves that they can't control.

Their skin tone.
The number of chromosomes they were born with.
The sexuality they grow into.
The country their parents were born in.

That little boy is being abused.  He's being verbally and emotionally beaten every time that GROWN MAN opens his mouth.

Judging people isn't all bad, but let's do it the new-fashioned way.  Let's do it based on every single thing they can control.

Their stupidity.
Their small minded-ness (and you know what they say about a man with a small mind...).
Their limited vocabulary (brown... really?).
Their complete lack of parenting skills.
And, their incessant need to wear camouflage every single place they go (hey, we can see you in the Wal-Mart checkout lane).

May that boy grow up to be a GROWN MAN better than the one he was shown.

Dear Eva,

On your ninth birthday, I want you to know that you are everything anyone has ever wanted to be.  Right now, today, at this moment, you are perfection.

You are smart.
You are kind.
You are funny.
You are beautiful.
You are good.
You are important.
You are honest.
You are thoughtful.
You are caring.
You are full of life.
You are bounce-off-the-walls-energetic.
You are introspective.
You are generous.
You are soft-hearted.
You are strong.
You are awe inspiring.

 

You are the kind of person people strive their whole lives to be.

 

And,  you are all of that today.

 

So, stay exactly the way you are.  Don't let anyone steal your shine.  There is no one more perfect than you. 

 

And, there is no one more grateful to have been given the honor of watching you grow than me.

 

 

Always,

 

Mama

Doubt

It's in the few inches I have to reach through to hold your hand.

It's in the seconds it takes to lean into your kiss.

It's in the breath I hold before I speak.

It's in the moment before I open your last text.

It's in the hesitation of my step to keep up with your stride.

It's in the knots in my stomach before you open the door.

It's in the extra beats of my heart at the sound of your laugh.

It's in the ink of the pen I can't bring myself to use.

It's in the sound of our silence.

It's in the space that doesn't hurt anymore.

It's in the feel of your eyelashes brushing my face.

It's in the freedom you've given me.

It's in the restraint I've mastered.

It's in the places you'll never touch.


And that's where it will always stay.

Middle ground

It's taken me so long to learn the difference.  That, just because I don't deserve the fairytale, doesn't mean I deserve to be dragged through the dirt.

I'm not a perfect person.  Most of the time, I'm barely even a good person.  I make mistakes more than I make smiles.  I overthink and look at things too deeply.  I demand words when they're not essential.  I refuse to be ignored.  I challenge and question more than I should.  I don't trust anyone or anything.  I have a real problem waiting for things to play out on their own time.  I worry more than I should about things that don't matter.  I put too much emphasis on the things I shouldn't notice at all.  My eyes refuse to be blinded.  I hold on too long to the things that tear me apart.  I roll my eyes and slam doors and yell more than anyone should.

No, I don't deserve flowers and candy.  I haven't earned any compliments or praise.  I've lived a long time doing all the wrong things, and I've paid the price for it many times over.

I always knew I didn't deserve the prince on the white horse.  Unfortunately, I thought that meant I actually deserved the toads that brought me down to their mud. 

I accepted the nothing I was offered.  Take it or leave it has always ended in me taking it - gratefully.  I just couldn't see that there has to be a middle ground.

But, I am not all bad.  I will happily make an ass out of myself to make someone laugh.  I stay up all night thinking of how to make a bad situation better.  I will stand in someone's corner cheering them on long after the lights are turned off.  I say what I mean every time.  I am faithful and honest.  I listen to words, whispers, and thoughts.  I learn everything there is to know that will make eyes shine.  I forgive.  I care.  I don't give up.  Middle of the night or center of of the storm, I am always there.

So, maybe I don't deserve to be demeaned and disrespected.  Maybe there's more for me than being ignored and dismissed.  Maybe I don't deserve the fairytale, but that doesn't mean I have to be covered in dirt.

I just wish it didn't take me so long to figure it out.

90's Hip Hop

My 90's HipHop Station on Pandora should just be renamed the "Close calls, big mistakes, beautiful stupid boys, running the streets, can't believe I made it out unscathed, race down memory lane" soundtrack.

Naughty by Nature brings back the first boy I ever completely lost all my senses for.  He was beautiful and remarkably stupid.  I wore his shirt for weeks and can't hear Hip Hop Hooray without being back on my couch in that apartment with his smile.

Lost Boyz brings back the little family of boys that adopted me into their crew.  We went everywhere together blasting the tiny speakers in my little car with Legal Drug Money until we wore the tape out.  Those were the first days I ever felt accepted for who I was, even if all I was at the time was young & stupid.

Outkast brings back the best friend I've ever had.  He used to let me drive his car up to get us food and he never let anyone drive that thing.  The driver's seat was leaned so far back it was resting on the back seat, and I felt like the coolest girl in the world behind the wheel.  Southernplayalisticcadillacfunkymusic was the soundtrack to that summer, and it brings his long pointless stories back every time.

Montell Jordan brings back the ride to high school graduation with my best girlfriend.  This is how we do it at the top of our lungs all the way to the coliseum.

DMX brings back every Tuesday and Wednesday night at the club.  It's Dark and Hell is Hot was on nonstop replay for months, and I made more mistakes than I can count while bouncing to that one.

Warren G's Regulators,  Snoop's Doggystyle, Dr. Dre's Chronic, anything from 2Pac, Wu-tang, Black Sheep, Busta Rhymes, Nas, The Fugees, Cypress Hill, Eric B. & Rakim.  Every song on this station has a face and a place and a memory attached.  Most also have at least two mistakes tagging along.  Every time the girls are gone and I can blast that station loud enough to bother the neighbors, I'm taken right back down to the strip we drove before we were smart enough to know better. 

And I smile.