Mommies in Black and White

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Category: Culture (Page 1 of 5)

Valarie Kaur Speech: An Opportunity to Listen, Learn, and Reflect

Immigration is HOT right now. As a blog written in half by an immigrant we are extremely in tune to the rhetoric and current cultural conversations related to the topic.

We don’t speak to every issue, every story, or debate. We try not to judge or spread hate or disrespect by attacking others’ perspectives or ideas. We do, however, encourage our readers to listen, reflect and learn…about each other, about diversity, about ways that you can engage and make a difference in your daily life by being an informed, open and compassionate person.

The video below is a passionate perspective from one side of the immigration debate. It’s worth watching because it provides insight into a life experience, a reality that you might not truly understand – unless you’ve lived it. Jebeh has lived it. Her experience was her own. It was emotional, challenging, heartbreaking and exciting all at the same time.

Every time I listen to Jebeh and open my heart to her experience, I learn and I grow. Every time we can see, truly see the world through someone else’s lens, we become better. We become smarter, stronger, and more empathetic people.

So, I encourage you to watch, to listen, to grow. I encourage you to see an immigration story through someone else’s lens.

WATCH: Valarie Kaur Speech

 

Gratitude in turmoil: Finding peace in a time of uproar

10 Ways Gratitude Can Change Your Life

(photo by David Wagner)

 

 

 

 

 

Again, it’s been a while. The pace of life and daily demands continue to get in the way of writing. But, it doesn’t get in the way of reflecting. I reflect daily, when something doesn’t sit right. When a comment, smile, nod doesn’t feel right or when I notice something beautiful. Practicing reflection takes conscious effort and I don’t always get it right, but I’m trying.

The last month has been charged. Politically. Socially. Spiritually. We all feel it. I’ve watched friendships disintegrate on Facebook. I’ve watched constructive conversations go terribly array. I’ve watched news cycles turn into churning critiques, filled with frustration, fear and bitterness. Once again, many feel helpless, powerless, and disheartened.

It’s not new – this social uproar. It may feel HUGE right now and it is. But, social uproar can be a catalyst for change. For bringing pivotal issues to the forefront. It forces conversations to be had out loud, in vibrant tones. Conversations that may otherwise have been had behind closed doors or in hushed voices.

I’ve sat with all of this for a month now. Watched highly intelligent and passionate people articulate so eloquently their points of view. Watched others rage in fear, pain, and dissolution. I felt it all. Every bit. Every comment. Every heartfelt plea.

I felt it and this is what I want to say. Don’t give up. Reflect. Daily. On the joys in your life, the friendships you’ve built, the passionate, intelligent people around you. See the good – on both sides (of the aisle, issue). Speak up, respectfully. Do good, daily. Our ability to break down the BIG things into small daily reflections and actions will make change.

Regardless of your political or religious affiliation, this season brings hope and light. It’s a time of reconnecting with family and friends. What we also need to remember is it’s a time of respect for and reflection about our true place in all of it. A time to be reminded of our humanness and the humanness of those around us.

Perspectives and passions may differ, but our job is not to change others. It’s to LISTEN to others. To SEE how they see. Only by seeing what others see, feeling what others feel can we truly understand them. In doing so, we build compassion and also insight that can help us share ourselves and our own views more authentically.

My hope is that we can all find a little peace in this tumultuous political and social environment. That we can reflect daily and be grateful for the opportunities we have to connect with others. For me, this past month has required mindful reflection to find gratitude in turmoil and peace in a time of uproar.

Taking a Stand: Athletes, Voices, and the National Anthem

I’ve given it a couple weeks to sit. Sometimes I like to just let ideas stew – mix, absorb, penetrate, and reform again as something more holistic and refined. I’ve wanted to comment, to jump in, to make a point, but I don’t think I was ready.

A few week ago, Colin Kaepernick started gaining attention for his protest demonstration during the national anthem at an NFL game. The story has continued to progress with more athletes joining in the protest and in turn more responses and opinions shared on national and international media. Interestingly, Megan Rapione’s attempt to kneel in solidarity with Kaepernick was thwarted by the Washington Spirit ownership. Another demonstration of power structures determining which voices can be heard?

I don’t want to dig into the politics of it all, but as a sports fan, I want to point out the immense power that professional and collegiate athletes have. They have the power to change the conversation, to call attention to issues that we should all be concerned with, to share their voice and the voices of so many like them.

Whether we agree with their methods or not, we must at least recognize that athletes, like all of us, are whole people. They can’t and shouldn’t shed parts of themselves when they step into their role as athlete. While the professional atheletics system operates in a way that positions athletes as commodities, as “stock” to be traded, developed, bought and sold, they are actually living, breathing humans. They are people with real lives and real experiences both on and off the playing field.

As we’ve pointed out many times in this blog, you can’t understand someone else’s point of view, perspective or version of reality until or unless you have walked in their shoes. Until you have experienced life as they experience it – day in and day out. That goes for everyone, including our military – many of whom have taken offense to the anthem protest, and our professional athletes – many of whom have been on the front lines of race relations and issues in their own communities.

My thoughts might still be disconnected and confused regarding this issue. But, in the end I believe in freedom of speech – the right to a voice and the power that comes with a collective voice. I believe in using the platforms available to you to project your voice. To fight for the things you believe in. We all should. If we don’t, we are seriously undermining the values upon which our United States government was formed.

So, If I was to encourage anything in those who are reading, it would be to encourage others. Support athletes like Kaerpernick, Rapinoe, and J.T. Brown in their quest to open dialogue and have honest and true responses to controversial issues. They are not, as athletes, commodities with a single purpose. They are people, with experiences, perspectives, and knowledge that can reach so many and hopefully influence others along the way.

As a Bulldog alum and former Bulldog athlete, I want to end with a shout out to J.T. Brown. He used his voice to bring perspective to a controversial stance by the coach of the USA Hockey at the World Cup, John Tortorella. Brown’s approach and ability to articulate the idea of perspective was powerful and spot on and quite frankly probably something few in that particular audience (hockey) had considered before. His willingness to speak-up, to use the platform he has as a professional athlete gives me so much hope. Hope that little by little people will listen, open their minds and hearts, and slowly but surely change.

 

 

 

Reflections of love, loss, and legacy

Ma HajaCivil strife and unrest separated me from my grandparents. My parents’ courageous decision to leave their homeland of Liberia must have been a hard one to make. Most kids that I grew up with had their grandparents close by. The few times I was around my grandparents are some of my most cherished memories.

My paternal grandmother, Ma Haja, loved our frequent visits to the Dollar Store. She was fascinated with how cheap everything was. I can’t tell you how many times she asked my dad in delight while we shopped, “How much is this again?” It was like she won the lottery.

As an adult now, I realize that my grandparents seeking refuge at our home was  a temporary situation. Trips to the Dollar Store would only last a little while. Reality would set in and her time with us was inevitably cut short. Grandma would have to go back to the chaos of war.

Six months ago, my sweet grandmother, Ma Haja, passed away. I will remember her baritone voice and laugh. She nicknamed me ‘big sister’ because her older sister was my namesake. Her passing has allowed me time to reflect on the ways she impacted my life and how she was with me in spirit during major milestones.

She would send my favorite peanut butter and sugary treat called Kayan, when I was studying in my college dorms. She was unable to attend our wedding due to more political strife, but she sent a Lappa (long piece of fabric, traditionally worn as a skirt) with my aunty so we could have a piece of her there to celebrate. I was blessed that my boys were able to talk with their great grandmother in Liberia from time to time.

Liberian family and traditionShe would have been 90 years old this month. Two weeks ago, our family and friends in the U.S gathered to celebrate her life. Most of her grand and great-grandchildren wore her favorite color green, and her children wore all white.

It was a beautiful, traditional Liberian event. In honor of her religion, we had local Imams recite the Quran and all the women had special Hijabs during the service. We danced, reflected with old photographs, shared stories, and reconnected with each other.

My grandmother was a strong and determined woman. Many people in our home country loved her. She built several mosques throughout Liberia. She built a bus shelter in her hometown so people wouldn’t have to wait in the rain for transportation. She was married to my Episcopalian grandfather for 61 years. Although they were married and practicing two different faiths, they respected one another. She didn’t have a formal education, but she expected all of her children and grandchildren to get an education.

She was a respected mother. She had 13 children of her own and raised more children without hesitation, taking in friends and family who needed support. Every day dozens of people filled her front porch and yard ready to listen to her speak her truth. They would follow her everywhere she went with praise. She was grounded in her faith. She was unapologetically headstrong.

I didn’t have my grandmother physically around me all the time. But, I can attest that our bond was very strong. Our few shared memories and her legacy of strength, compassion and wisdom will always beat strong in my heart.

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