True Blue Girl

These are the moments in our lives where we dare challenge the dawn.
Where we twirl and dance in the shimming moonlight.
We walk the path to arrive at this destination.
In the far east under the twinkle of the stars.
These previous few moments where we can all be together.
Its memory in our hearts for eternity.
Cherish them.
Spin sweet girl. Spin your hearts content.

Colonized Psyches | Through a Mother’s Eyes by Robin Bond

Colonized Psyches | Through a Mother’s Eyes by Robin Bond | Collaborators – Editor Sam Brown, Title Craig Herbert

Walking down the street, I held my daughter Ryan’s hand. She looked at my arm, then at hers, and told me that she didn’t like her colour. She wanted to be mine.

It didn’t really surprise me when she said it; she had mentioned it a few times before. She’s also told me she wants green eyes and hates her gorgeous, nearly blonde curls that most women would die for.

I’ve told her so many times how I used to tan my pale skin darker, destroy my hair with styling products and hot curlers to have what she came by naturally. I have longed for the clear depth of her chestnut eyes in my own dull emerald.

This moment though, was especially sad for me. I’ve had the privilege of growing up white and never really understood the implications of that.  I have, in the past, argued many times that there is no privilege and that these days everyone is viewed equally.

Then, my light skinned, blond-highlighted, curly haired, chestnut eyed mixed children went to school and my viewpoint changed.

I have never understood how such an insanely intelligent and gorgeous girl could have so many doubts about her looks at only 5 years old.

Finally, we reached the park.

A mass of children of every race and ethnicity were playing. From amidst all of this, my son Michael walks off the soccer field in tears. His brown skinned friend explains hastily that Mikey had accidentally tripped a boy while playing, and the child reacted with anger.

‘He’s saying the n word and f word to Mikey’ he explains.

‘Like THE n word?’ I asked, confused.

He says yes, acknowledging that I knew exactly which word he’s referring to.

How ignorant was I for thinking that my mixred children would have it as easy as I did.  How Inconsiderate of me to compartmentalize Ryan’s insecurities by focusing on tanning beds and curling irons.

I have to ask this question;

Why is Ryan convinced that pale skin, blonde hair and green or blue eyes is the answer? Why isn’t she saying “Mom, why can’t I just be Korean?” or, “I wish my hair was darker or shorter?” or, “Why can’t I have Daddy’s skin colour?”

Here’s Why—

White Privilege.

The cultural curse that says you aren’t beautiful because your skin is tinged with darkness; the inherited prejudice that tells children to hate themselves because they aren’t that “ideal” colouring.

Kids see it and—more importantly—they feel it. The most innocent and naive creatures in this world see this shit and respond with self-loathing.  How are we so stupid? How can we let a single image of beauty or “normalcy” create so much pain? How can we pretend white privilege doesn’t exist?

I told Mikey this morning before school that if anyone ever refers to him as the ‘n’ word to say

‘Sure, maybe I am? That’s what they called my great-great-great grand and gram too. Only stupid people think a single word can conquer someone. It’s just a word, made up by people who were so ignorant they didn’t know how to farm, cook or even nurse their own babies. They used that word to make other people do it all for them.’

Ryan will be a lot harder. She’s only five years on this earth, and a lifetime of ancestral grief trickles through her, damaging her barely formed self-image.

I can’t change the world’s view on what beauty is, but damn do we have it twisted.

The only thing that keeps changing is my hairline.

I keep waiting to get older but it never happens. It’s like waiting for Gadot.

If I could tell my younger self one thing is that progress is not linear. I walk to the beat of my own crazy ‘kicked out of Sneeky Dee’s’ drum. I woke up on Sunday morning in a boy’s bed, headphones gone and my bag rammed full of candy. If this is the middle act it’s going to be one seriously strange ending.

A former manic pixie dream boy

Post Script:

A cute boy says he’s making me a cake. Fingers crossed that he can ACTUALLY bake. And people know you don’t fuck around with a man’s cake.

Update: The cake was awesome.

Buffy Summers | Intro to The Slayer Series

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

These few lines would start a lifetime obsession with Buffy,  the popular valley girl with some not so average problems.  After the events of the eponymous film, Buffy is transferred to Sunnydale High over what is known as the Hellmouth or an inter dimensional gateway between this world and the next. It explains the paranormal activity.  The metaphor Joss Whedon and his staff are going for is that ‘High School is Hell’. No one leaves high school without scars or echoes.

Joss designed Buffy to carry on in our hearts long after the series.

When I created Buffy, I wanted to create a female icon, but I also wanted to be very careful to surround her with men that not only have no problem with the idea of a female leader, but were in fact engaged and even attracted to the idea. – Joss Whedon

Joss created Buffy as wanting her to be an insignificant girl with extraordinary powers. Modelled after 80’s action heroes like Sarah Connor and Ellen Ripley.

To celebrate Buffy and Halloween, I am writing a series of essays that i’m calling The Slayer Series.  Starting with my beloved Xander.  Xander is more then just a watcher, he is a hero in his own right.

Xander Rising: Why Xander Harris is the unsung hero of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Coming soon to #Jeffsnotthatfunny