children

Just Be Nice

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Just Be Nice

I slacked on keeping my series on race going. I finished Waking Up White about a month ago. I read it slowly, really absorbing the material. Also, I made screenshots of a lot of quotes and the questions at the end of the chapters that spoke to me.

One such quote (and I’m sorry I read this on a Kindle, so I don’t know what page it was on—Kindle folks: location 3061 of 4136) is “Though I never feared for my safety, or that I’d lose status or friends, I did spend most of my life thinking I had to make a choice between being either a polite person or an angry activist.”

This quote spoke to me. How many times as a child was I told, “Just be nice.” How many times do I tell my kids to “Just be nice?” Niceness is nice, right? But niceness also can take away the voice and the power of some people. Is being polite swallowing your words in the face of blatant racism? It shouldn’t be. Is being polite nodding along while people spout of views you don’t agree with? It shouldn’t be. Is being polite going along with an administration that espouses racist views and seeks to divide our country? It shouldn’t be.

Did you ever watch The Real World? Boy, I just loved Puck and the guy who thought he was Garth Brooks. On the beginning credits of the show they had a one-liner: It’s Time to Stop Being Polite and Start Getting Real.

For a long time, I spent my life being polite. When I moved back to Montgomery, I left my voice in D.C. I nodded along with people made derogatory comments. I nodded along when people made fun of Liberals (I am a liberal!). I didn’t realize how much I was a people-pleaser, until I moved back to a place that thought everyone with white skin thought the same way they did.

I didn’t stop being polite until after Trump became president. Then I felt like I had to do something. My mother and I became activists, fighting for what we think is right for all people. Stop being nice and start being your true self.

What does it look like to stop being polite and start being real, you may ask. It’s simple:

  • Don’t Be Complicit to Racism and Discrimination: When someone makes a derogatory comment about a person with a different gender, a different skin color, or a different sexuality tell them you disagree with them. Open your mouth and say, “I don’t believe that.” They may give you a stunned look and walk away, or you may be able to state your point of view. But the important thing is, you’re standing up for what’s right, not being complicit to continued prejudices.
  • Learn: I’ve read a lot about how our nation has perpetuated racism. Before I started on this journey, I knew racism existed. I didn’t know to what extent our system had kept it going. It saddened me to read Just Mercy and see how our justice system treats African Americans so differently than anyone else. It saddened me to hear the GI Bill didn’t serve African Americans the same way it served white Americans. It saddens me to see how our schools continued to be segregated, reinforcing the cycle of poverty that African Americans are so desperately trying to claw their way out of. Having educated myself about several of the issues, I feel more readily able to discuss them, not only with my white friends, but also to get perspective from my black friends. And that brings me to my next point:
  • Discuss: Talk about racism to your black friends. Talk about how they are discriminated against. I can tell you, these discussions may be uncomfortable for you, but they will probably make your black friends feel like you are one of the good ones and you’re at least trying to understand how your actions could be making them feel uncomfortable. Realize, as a white person you have privilege, and acknowledge that.
  • Make Space: If your child attends a school with a PTA, invite your black friends to become presidents, secretaries, etc. Many of them feel as if their voices are not being heard, even at schools. Show them they are welcome and that their voices are needed so we can make our schools more successful for every child.
  • Teach Your Children: About racism and how to combat racism. Let them know the history of racism and how they can support policies that seek to remove racism from our society. Talk to them about the Slavery, The Civil Rights Movement, Martin Luther King, Ida B. Wells. Let them know the important contributions African Americans make and continue to make in our society. Let them know race is man-made, and they have the power and the ability in the future to disable the systemic racism our country was built on.
  • Find a cause and support it. Use your voice. Use your activism. Don’t be quiet.

Books to Read:

Waking Up White by Debby Irving

Just Mercy by Bryan Stephenson

The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander

At The Dark End of The Street: Black Women, Rape, and Resistance–A New History of the Civil Rights Movement from Rosa Parks to the Rise of Black Power by Danielle L. McGuire

Just to name a few.

Recently my husband and I visited Memphis on a getaway. We went to the Civil Rights Museum there that’s located inside the Lorraine Motel where MLK, Jr. was killed. Below are a couple of pictures from that visit. Visual reminders why we need to keep fighting for equity, equality, and for the right thing. America should be a place where everyone can achieve their dream.

view-from-the-balcony-mlk-jr2.jpg

View from Inside the Lorraine Motel to the balcony where MLK, Jr. was shot April 4, 1968

Room MLK Jr stayed in at the Lorraine Motel

MLK Jr’s Motel Room Inside The Lorraine Motel

Freedom Riders Bus

A replica of the Greyhound bus that was firebombed in Anniston, AL in 1961 — Freedom Riders

For More Blog Posts in this series, click the links below:

Stereotypes and Preconceived Notions About Race

Family Values and Principles

You’ve Got Class

Follow Lauren Greene:

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Twitter: https://twitter.com/laurenegreene

Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/109867402293227201728/posts

 

The End Of A Play Date

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In my alternate life, about 10 years ago, I stayed at home with my oldest child. I look back on those days fondly. I don’t know if that’s with rose-colored glasses or not. I had a good friend, D, and we used to get together for play dates with our boys. We’d take the babies over to her house, or my house, or our other friend’s house. We’d make coffee (that’s when my addiction to coffee took hold) and muffins, talk, and let the kids play.

I loved those moments to reflect on parenthood with my friends. We could bounce ideas off each other, commiserate about parenting issues, laugh, love, and learn. Later, my husband and I moved away. I got a full time job, and I added two kids to the crew. And the play dates stopped.

I’ve had friends, and my kids have made friends. But somewhere along the way play dates ceased to exist. I wonder if this is because I work on the weekdays and somewhere people are still hosting coffee dates with their friends while their toddlers play. But I’ve also noticed that less and less people call up to have their child play with mine. I wonder why. Is it the way I’m raising my kid? Am I just nostalgic for a world that doesn’t exist in this technology-craved world we live in? Or is it because people are too caught up in their own lives to make room for friends?

I think that playing with companions, having a bunch of kids over at your house, and encouraging your children to socialize lets them become better leaders, communicators, you-name-it. They learn how to solve problems and how to listen to one another. If our kids don’t have that anymore, then where are they getting it from? The internet–probably not. I know kids, especially the teenage variety, socialize over the phone, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same for the moms either. We are all much too obsessed with the world of our phone to communicate effectively with each other at this point.

We have our friends at our fingertips, right? But when was the last time, you went out and really enjoyed someone’s company without looking at your phone? When did you go sit at a friend’s house and commiserate about how you’re screwing up your children? Don’t take these types of friendships for granted, because there is something to be gained from having someone who is battling the same storm at the same time as you.

I don’t have very many close friends. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I’m generally a pretty happy person. I smile and make conversation. I have a hard time saying no. I might come on too strong sometimes. I’m a thinker, and I guess sometimes, I’ve been told, this can be intimidating to other people. I’m not a huge fan of small talk. I tend to make friends with men, because men tend to let the self-conscious go and just be real.  This is somewhat socially unacceptable, especially in the South. People still seem to think along the lines of When Harry Met Sally that a male and a female cannot just be friends. I get it. Sometimes one or both of the people in the male/female friendship develop feelings, but this isn’t always the case. Let’s be honest: adults can be adults and keep their belts buckled, right? It’s called willpower, folks. I think male friendships can offer something that female friendships never can–an understanding of the opposite sex. And so I think that having both female and male friends is important.

I grew up with two sisters though, and so I feel as if I’m sorely missing out on the days when I had a good female friend. I think about D and how are friendship wasn’t competitive. How we loved our kids, and we cared about one another, and that was enough. We had very little expectations of one another, but we were always there for each other when we needed to be. And I wonder where I went wrong from there. Maybe it’s where I live, which seems to be full of cliques. Maybe it’s that I neglected my friendships because I made specific choices not surrounding them. Perhaps I didn’t try as much, because I didn’t always realize how important friendships could be. Who knows, but I know what I’m missing and that makes me sad. I also know that there are a lot of women in my life I’d like to have a closer friendship with, and I hope to focus on making that happen in the next year.

Last night, I lay in bed trying to fall asleep. My mind has been churning lately, hence the uptick in blog posts and hopefully a finished novel before my life ends. I thought about D and how much I enjoyed our friendship. I thought about my friend T with love and how we enjoyed a part of our life together. And then I thought about how I don’t have a close friend to reach out to right now. I have church friends. I have PTA mom friends. I have co-workers who I love and enjoy. But I don’t have someone who I can call up and say, “Hey, what don’t you come over on Saturday, have a cup of coffee with me, and we can shoot the shit.” I don’t even care at this point if that person sees my house dirty (by the way, it is always dirty, so that person if she exists will see my house dirty). I don’t even care if they see me ugly cry some times. Because that’s what friends are for–to support one another.

I think it’s time we all put the phone down for a second and meet up in real life. We need to bring back the play dates. Not only will this help our kids socially, but it will help the moms and dads too. Our community, in the U.S., if not worldwide has become individualized to a fault. But children need other children and adults need friends, besides their spouse, who they can turn to in times of need. Humans, after all, are a social species. We literally need one another.

Instead of the end of the play date, maybe we can begin again.

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Reflections on Death and Life

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Recently I read an article about the importance of “me” time in everyone’s life. I also read an article about the importance of silence. I’ve been doing a lot of heavy thinking lately. I had a friend die suddenly about two weeks ago, and let’s face it when shocking events take place in our life it makes us look more closely at how we’re living.

I had a conversation with a co-worker at work about how I like to lock myself in the bathroom, take a bath, and read a book. This co-worker could not believe it, and it became the butt of all her jokes in regards to me. She’s probably reading this blog right now. But it griped me. Not because I don’t think I deserve the me-time (I do, and so do you), but because there is this perception in the United States that people don’t need, don’t deserve, or simply don’t have time for me-time. Well, this my friend, is a mistake, or even a travesty. Everyone needs alone time. Everyone needs me time. Everyone needs time to recharge. It doesn’t matter if you’re a working mother of three like me, a single parent, a non-parent, a man or woman. It’s simply a biological necessity. It’s as essential to humans as touch and love, but it’s something that we do not make time for in our chaotic world.

We’re constantly bombarded by information: cell phones, people, activities, kids. And because of that, sometimes we forget that we are connected human beings. When we feel overwhelmed or tired the best thing we can do for ourselves is stop and reflect. Stop and enjoy a little bit of solitude. Look for the inner peace that can keep us going.

Since my friend died I’ve been thinking a lot about the way we live. Our family lives are dictated by schedules and technology. I sit on the couch in the evening, and my kids stare at a television or their own handheld gadget. I write in the morning or at night, making the computer one of the main gadgets in my life. But we’re missing out on a huge part of human connection. As a mother, I want my children to remember that I took time to play UNO with them. I want them to remember that I laughed with them…and cried with them. I want them to remember my presence in their life, not that I was always staring at my phone, my computer, or that I was too busy to spend time with them.

The way I can best be there for my children is to be there for myself. I know that I don’t have a traditional family life. My husband works from home, so he’s capable of making dinner and picking up the kids, dealing with homework and doing most of the “traditional” housewife jobs. Since my job is away from home, I come home and get to be the “fun” parent, traditionally assigned to the “Dad” role. My husband and I both value our alone time, our rest and recoup time, as a time that we can sort out our feelings on life and come back to our children more well-prepared to handle them and all their idiosyncrasies.

As I process the emotions regarding my friend’s life and death, and help his wife—one of my good friends—find her new normal, I need my silence. I need the time in the evening when I lie in bed and try to figure it all out. Some people can put all their faith in God. But in times like this questions arise. Silence helps me sort through those tough questions. My alone time helps me come to terms with decisions I’ve made in the past and what decisions I need to make in the future. We all have a finite time on this earth, and we don’t know when our time is up. I want to live my life the best way possible and leave an impression on my children that I was there for them, because we never know when our time is up.

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Cold Heart, Cold Mind

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I wrote for Finish That Thought today.  I’ve been taking too many breaks lately, letting the urge to write slip away form me. This week, I’m trying to get back on the wagon (so to speak).  I have editing of my next book to do, and I keep putting it off.  I’m going to try to set some goals over the weekend, and I’ll post them here next week.  I’m goal oriented, and when I track I do so much better.  Plus, blogging! I haven’t been doing it after the A to Z Challenge nearly as much as I want to. I’m hoping with summer quickly descending on us and the absence of afternoon activities for the kids that I’ll be more productive.  We shall see!

Cold Heart, Cold Mind
@laurenegreene
495 words

I had not felt this way for a long time, but then again it had been a while since I’d been back. Dad had cut the topiaries into animal shapes, and covered with snow, they reminded me of the scene from “The Shining,” so I kept a safe distance, hugging the side of the hedge as I walked to the door. My heart pounded in my chest like a million drummers in a band. The snow fell around me, and I shivered as I stood there trying to build up my nerve. I felt like a little kid again, lost and alone, not to mention freezing—Florida was so nice this time of year, I wish I’d never left.

If I stood there one more second, I might turn into an icicle, or worse yet I might freeze in one position snow-covered like the topiaries dotting Dad’s yard. I knew he needed me. My comfort. My presence, but the truth was I didn’t care about him anymore. Ever since he’d left Mom, I’d told myself he didn’t matter.

But then Janie had called six months ago and said Grace had died. Dad had dementia. She would arrange a nurse. Even nurses needed vacations, and Janie was out of pocket this week, in Disney World with her husband and three kids. I guess she deserved a vacation too.

I rubbed my hands together, they seemed frozen solid, and I wasn’t sure if the fist would form so I could knock on the door. The topiaries were so well trimmed. Was that part of Hanna’s job description or had Dad kept up with them, even in his confusion? Finally, I knocked.

Hanna came to the door, wearing a white nurse’s cap, like someone out of an old-timey movie. From behind, Dad wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

“She’s a hottie, isn’t she?” Dad asked, as Hanna pushed his arm from her waist.

“Bill, I’ve told you a thousand times, I’m your nurse not your wife.”

“Where’d Grace get off to?”

I stood in the doorway, my eyelashes nearly frozen. Winter in Michigan was hell.

“You must be Christina. Thank God you’re here.”

Dad scooted around Hanna and screwed up his eyeballs as his mind whirled like a hamster on a wheel, trying to locate me in a sea of frothy memories.

“Tell my friends to come in too, Grace. They’re covered in snow,” he said, waving to the topiaries.

“They’re better off outside, Dad,” I said as Hanna scooted out of the way, and I stepped into the warmth of the house.

“Dad?” he asked.

“It’s Christina, your youngest daughter,” I said.

“I don’t have any children. Just ask Grace,” Dad said.

“She’s dead, Dad,” I said.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you Christina. I’m leaving in ten minutes. Let me show you where your dad’s meds are,” Hanna said.

Dad stared at the topiaries. The only friends he had, left out in the cold.