Keyshia Cole and the One-Drop Rule
So apparently R&B artist Keyshia Cole started a s***-storm of controversy recently when she went on BET's 106 & Park and claimed that she wasn't initially sure how she felt about being on "Black Women Rock," because she's biracial. Madame Noire asked, "I think it's fine if she wants to point out that she's bi-racial, but one, where is this coming from, and two, are you not still black by all one drop rule standards? And are you really going to act like the rest of society doesn't still see you as a black woman and you can now no longer understand the need to celebrate black girls doing good things. C'mon now?". While I agree with M.N. in part, I can't go for the one-drop rule assessment.
For those unfamiliar, the one-drop rule is the U.S. law (and only the U.S.; no other country is so backwards), dating back to Jim Crow, which states that one-drop of negro blood makes someone black. As you can imagine, this law was invented largely to prevent miscegenation (that's "race mixing"). Not really sure how enforceable that was a hundred of years ago without discernible proof of one's lineage, as the one-drop rule resulted in lots of people "passing" for white in order to benefit from the more favorable status afforded by law and society in general.
Seeing as Jim Crow laws have been eradicated, and we live in an increasingly multiracial and multiethnic society, I don't really see a benefit to the one-drop rule in today's society. In fact, the one-drop rule seems to be invoked by black folks more than any other group. Yes, we generally tend to claim everyone and their grandmama as black.
While there are many bi- or multi-racial/ethnic celebrities who are perceived as black merely because of their appearance--and to some degree because of their associations [Pres. Barack Obama, Halle Berry, Derek Jeter, Alicia Keys, Dwayne Johnson, Tracey Ellis-Ross, Tia and Tamara Mowrey, Bob Marley, Carmelo Anthony, Lenny Kravitz, Lisa Bonet, Maya Rudolph, Faith Evans, Jimi Hendrix, Jordin Sparks, Kelis, Shemar Moore, and Stacy Dash just to name a few], there are also those bi-/multi-racial/ethnic whose appearances defy a label of just "black"--even to the point where many don't even know they are biracial until they come out of the color closet, so to speak [Mariah Carey, Rashida Jones, Jennifer Beals, Vin Diesel, Cash Warren, Wentworth Miller, Santino Rice and G&R's Slash are just a few who come to mind who have elicited the "OMG! I didn't know s/he was black!" response]. And what about the people who are (allegedly) "black" so far down the line that it shouldn't even matter, since no reasonable person would ever perceive them as multi-racial, let alone "black" [thinking of, for example, People's Sexiest Man 2012, Channing Tatum, who is reportedly 1/16 black on his father's side]?
I personally think it is pretty pointless to assign someone a mono-racial identity for the comfort of one group who thinks that celebrities should acknowledge their blackness and only their blackness. Look, I get why we would or should want to do it in some circumstances. Without the one-drop rule, instead of America having its first black president, we have our first half-black POTUS. Without the one-drop rule, there has never been a great black pro-golfer (not that we have a great one now, in either case, right?), just a half-black pro-golfer. However, self-identification--particularly when that self-identification is grounded in some reality--is important, and even if we allow someone their (right to a) half-black or quarter-black identity, we have still made cultural progress. President Obama self-identifies as black, because he is viewed as and treated as a black man [No worries! We still have our first "black" president--sixth if you still insist we go by the one-drop rule]. However, he acknowledges his biracial status, because to do so is an insult to the white mother and grandparents who raised him [as opposed to his African father who was largely non-present in his life]. Halle Berry was raised by her white mother, but that same mother raised her as a "black woman," because she realized that is how most of society would perceive her [And, similarly, Halle has insisted that her one-quarter black daughter is also a black woman by society's standards--despite her light hair and blue eyes]. Mariah Carey, for reasons unknown, self-identifies as black, and occasionally as "tri-racial." Dwayne Johnson self-identifies as both black and Samoan. Tiger Woods self-identifies as Cablanasian (seriously)--and that's his prerogative. The thing is, asking someone to self-identify as only one race--regardless of their life or familial experiences is not the business of the outside world.
My daughters are too young to understand the concept of race, let alone begin to self-identify. Pop Culture Preschooler only knows racial differences from a crayon-box perspective. She has declared before that she, daddy, and her sister have white faces, and mommy has a brown-face. Of course, even on the crayon-box perspective, she is incorrect, and we have corrected her that she and daddy have beige faces, while her little sister and mommy have brown faces (or, more accurately, Pop Culture Toddler2 has a tan face); but ultimately none of this will prove important as she grows up. People will put her into one box or another, and regardless of what box or boxes she checks for herself, someone will always question her choices. If PCP checks the "black" box with her pale skin, green eyes, and naturally highlighted hair (though with black features she received from me), there will be those who question whether she is "black enough." If she checks the "white" box, many will accuse her of being self-loathing [no lie, I may have that fear myself]. If she checks both boxes, then there will still be some people [including the State of Texas on the forms we filled out at the hospital!] who will consider that an unacceptable answer, and forcing her to choose only one--more often than not, the "black" box. In short, no matter what she chooses, she will lose before she's even began. Pop Culture Toddler2 has the opposite problem. Even though her features and hair came from her Caucasian, American Irish father, she undoubtedly has my coloring. Without seeing both parents present, most people don't even realize she's biracial, and when she is only with my husband, people are as confused as they were when I used to be alone with Pop Culture Preschooler as a baby--yes, I was actually confused as the nanny on several occasions. While few strangers would probably question if PCT2 self-identified as "black," any other classification may raise eyebrows and accusations. This would, of course, be unfair, because she, just like her older sister, is very much a product of both of her parents.
We will cross these bridges when we get to them. In any event, I don't think that the "one-drop rule" is the way to go, because it is not up to society to decide how a bi- or multi-racial person views him or herself (no matter how much it may irk us). Not to mention, it just gets into absurd and ridiculous results when you are talking about someone who can barely trace their black heritage, who would never be identified by society in general as a black person, and who will never know or experience any amount of discrimination as they would if they were actually a minority.
Now... as far as Keyshia Cole... though her answer was thought-provoking insofar as the general topic, it was quite a head-scratcher for me. Why? Well, because Keyshia Cole doesn't know who her daddy is. By every report, her mother was a drug addict, and didn't know who she was with during her crack-fueled binges. There has been a lot of speculation about who her father is, but no definitive answers. Maybe he was a black man, maybe he wasn't. But the bottom line is Keyshia neither knows who her father is nor has she had an experience of being raised in a multi-cultural household or society. She's an R&B artist who is largely unknown to anyone who doesn't follow R&B. Moreover, she gave this statement on Black Entertainment Television, which is... well... the only channel that plays her videos. So... you know.... Self-identification really only works when, as stated above, there's some basis in reality. I mean, I could call myself half-Vietnamese, but that doesn't make it true or reflective of my life experiences.
Ignoring the Keyshia Cole craziness, what about the rest of you? What do you think about the one-drop rule and self-identification? Should we leave it up to individuals to (within reason) identify themselves; or is there some societal value in forcing the "black" label on half-, quarter- and 1/16th black individuals, regardless of how they seem themselves?
Halle Berry, A Model of Feminism
You may have heard the good news: Halle Berry has proven that feminism is not dead!
Oh, sorry. I realize that was confusing. After all, Halle Berry, known from flitting from one (abusive or just otherwise dysfunctional) relationship to the next, whose career heights are directly proportionate to her looks and how much boobage she flashes rather than her actual acting talent (which is negligible at best), who thinks she's haunted by the spirits of other beautiful women from the past, and who is a notoriously bad driver, is not exactly the first person to come to mind when you mention "feminist."
However, this week, Ms. Berry, with the help of the family court system, achieved one of the goals of old school feminism: that men and women be treated equally. You see, this week, a judge ordered that Halle Berry pay her baby daddy, Gabriel Aubrey, $20,000 a month in child support. This amount was requested by her ex-love on the basis that their daughter, Nahla, should be able to live in the lifestyle with which she had become accustomed during those times she is with Daddy. Hey, it worked for Camille Grammer, right?
So thanks, Halle (and Gabriel), for helping keep us equal.
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Oh, sorry. I realize that was confusing. After all, Halle Berry, known from flitting from one (abusive or just otherwise dysfunctional) relationship to the next, whose career heights are directly proportionate to her looks and how much boobage she flashes rather than her actual acting talent (which is negligible at best), who thinks she's haunted by the spirits of other beautiful women from the past, and who is a notoriously bad driver, is not exactly the first person to come to mind when you mention "feminist."
However, this week, Ms. Berry, with the help of the family court system, achieved one of the goals of old school feminism: that men and women be treated equally. You see, this week, a judge ordered that Halle Berry pay her baby daddy, Gabriel Aubrey, $20,000 a month in child support. This amount was requested by her ex-love on the basis that their daughter, Nahla, should be able to live in the lifestyle with which she had become accustomed during those times she is with Daddy. Hey, it worked for Camille Grammer, right?
So thanks, Halle (and Gabriel), for helping keep us equal.
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My Jillian Michaels Mini-Rant
Oh, are you here because you thought I was ranting against Jillian Michaels? Boy are you out of luck.
Look, personally, I'm no Jillian Michaels super fan. I didn't watch The Biggest Loser [I've seen it maybe three times ever]. I got her Wii Fitness game a couple years ago, and it bored me to tears -- now I know why it was on sale. I don't dislike her though. And, quite honestly, on a daily basis, I don't even think about her. I imagine most people don't.
All of the sudden, though, Jillian becomes a mom, and she's everywhere you look. Last week, when I saw the first picture of her adopted daughter and newborn son, as they say on Ni-Hao, Kai-Lan, "It made my heart feel super happy!". I'm one of those mommy-geeks, so any time I see a picture of a happy mother and child, I'm ecstatic. Even moreso than my usual mom-geekdom, however, I was overjoyed because Ms. Michaels and her partner adopted a child from Haiti and their biological baby [yes, I said "their." DEAL WITH IT] looks (though I am not sure if she is) biracial.
And then I read the comments on the article on People.com, and my super happy heart got super stabby. Forgive me, I'm still training myself to ignore the comments. I have to keep reminding myself that the anonymity of the internet makes every darn fool come out and show off their ignorance. I have to tell myself that most people don't think like the people who comment on news (including entertainment news) articles... If I let myself think that most of the world thinks like the comment world, I truly could not live here. I could not.
Apparently people of the Comment World fall into the following camps: (1) normal people who are happy to see a happy mother and that people are adopting [these are my peeps]; (2) people who are upset her child(ren are) is black; and (3) people who, most of whom weren't even aware of Jillian Michaels' sexuality prior to this point (I know I wasn't; didn't care either way. Still don't.), who can't get over the "OMG, she's gay! And why do gay people have babies? And is she going to make these babies gay? And that child isn't hers if she didn't carry it or contribute an egg!" camp. These are the people I'm ranting against. In a word: Seriously?!?!?!
First, how in the world does it affect you at all if Jillian Michaels and her partner, any other gay couple in the world, or even one singular gay person, has a child? You can't make someone gay by raising them with a gay parent or two--if you could, then straight people wouldn't keep having so many gay children, now would they? And even if you could "make" someone gay, who the eff cares?? How does anyone else's sexuality affect you on a personal basis, unless that person is the one with whom you are partnered?
I, for one, am glad to see children being raised in a loving home, and I am especially glad to see black children being adopted. Unless or until someone else adopts a needy child, I don't want to hear boo about what you think about another couple's right to adopt. NOTHING. Haters will hate, but they certainly won't do anything to help, now will they?
So, although I was Jillian Michaels neutral, consider me a new fan... of her as a mother. To those of you out there who are negatively and hyper concerned about the gender of the person she loves or the color of her children's skin, go get a life, why dontcha?
(photo by People magazine)
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Look, personally, I'm no Jillian Michaels super fan. I didn't watch The Biggest Loser [I've seen it maybe three times ever]. I got her Wii Fitness game a couple years ago, and it bored me to tears -- now I know why it was on sale. I don't dislike her though. And, quite honestly, on a daily basis, I don't even think about her. I imagine most people don't.
All of the sudden, though, Jillian becomes a mom, and she's everywhere you look. Last week, when I saw the first picture of her adopted daughter and newborn son, as they say on Ni-Hao, Kai-Lan, "It made my heart feel super happy!". I'm one of those mommy-geeks, so any time I see a picture of a happy mother and child, I'm ecstatic. Even moreso than my usual mom-geekdom, however, I was overjoyed because Ms. Michaels and her partner adopted a child from Haiti and their biological baby [yes, I said "their." DEAL WITH IT] looks (though I am not sure if she is) biracial.
And then I read the comments on the article on People.com, and my super happy heart got super stabby. Forgive me, I'm still training myself to ignore the comments. I have to keep reminding myself that the anonymity of the internet makes every darn fool come out and show off their ignorance. I have to tell myself that most people don't think like the people who comment on news (including entertainment news) articles... If I let myself think that most of the world thinks like the comment world, I truly could not live here. I could not.
Apparently people of the Comment World fall into the following camps: (1) normal people who are happy to see a happy mother and that people are adopting [these are my peeps]; (2) people who are upset her child(ren are) is black; and (3) people who, most of whom weren't even aware of Jillian Michaels' sexuality prior to this point (I know I wasn't; didn't care either way. Still don't.), who can't get over the "OMG, she's gay! And why do gay people have babies? And is she going to make these babies gay? And that child isn't hers if she didn't carry it or contribute an egg!" camp. These are the people I'm ranting against. In a word: Seriously?!?!?!
First, how in the world does it affect you at all if Jillian Michaels and her partner, any other gay couple in the world, or even one singular gay person, has a child? You can't make someone gay by raising them with a gay parent or two--if you could, then straight people wouldn't keep having so many gay children, now would they? And even if you could "make" someone gay, who the eff cares?? How does anyone else's sexuality affect you on a personal basis, unless that person is the one with whom you are partnered?
I, for one, am glad to see children being raised in a loving home, and I am especially glad to see black children being adopted. Unless or until someone else adopts a needy child, I don't want to hear boo about what you think about another couple's right to adopt. NOTHING. Haters will hate, but they certainly won't do anything to help, now will they?
So, although I was Jillian Michaels neutral, consider me a new fan... of her as a mother. To those of you out there who are negatively and hyper concerned about the gender of the person she loves or the color of her children's skin, go get a life, why dontcha?
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Pop Culture Baby's Birth Story
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| Another Pop Culture star is born |
Let the story begin...
Dou Me, Baby
First, let me go way back. When I had Pop Culture Toddler, I enlisted the services of a doula for both during and after labor. Rhonda was invaluable. So I knew as soon as I got pregnant with Pop Culture Baby that I was going to go the doula route again. Rhonda had since retired from the baby doula game. I knew her daughter had stepped into her place, since one of my friends used Rhonda's daughter as her postpartum doula for her twins. I could have used her daughter. Instead, I decided to go the difficult route and get an out-of-state doula. Now, this wasn't something completely on a whim. Christi (or Diva Doula, as I now feel like calling her) is one of the moms from one of my WTE expecting boards. Her youngest daughter was born within days of PCT. She was even our board leader at some point and is currently one of the admins of our Facebook group. So while I didn't "know" her, I have known her for over three years. She had already served as the doula for some of the other November 2008 moms, and I wanted Diva Doula to "dou" me, too. As you can expect, Pop Culture Dad and pretty much everyone else thought I was crazy. But with Pop Culture Toddler, my midwives had predicted when I would go into labor, down to the weekend, and with a 13-hour labor the first time, I was feeling pretty confident about being able to get Diva Doula here in time.
Then of course came the GD diagnosis. Because I ended up on medication to control my blood sugar, my midwives told me that if I didn't have Pop Culture Baby early, as I did PCT, they were going to induce me at 39 weeks. Everyone, myself included was fairly confident, though, that I would go early again. Boy were we wrong. Apparently I controlled my sugars almost too well. So instead of growing a behemoth baby and ginormous placenta, I was forming a fairly regular placenta and (what was to me, anyway), a teeny baby. At my Level 2 ultrasound, PCB was measuring a few weeks behind, and was 18th percentile. PCB was predicted to be six pounds if I went full term. Because of the gestational diabetes, I had ultrasounds every three weeks. While my fundal height was always perfectly on track, the ultrasounds always showed a baby that was measuring a couple of weeks behind. Kind of weird considering that our 3D ultrasound revealed really chubby cheeks. *shrug*. So week by week, my confidence going into labor at 38 weeks again began to wane. And then...
Long Labor? False Labor? WTH Knows?
Ten days before my due date, I started having really regular contractions. They were frequent enough that I started timing them. First they were far apart. Then as the day went on, they sped up to 10 minutes apart, and then 8. I e-mailed Diva Doula and asked her for reassurance that I could have contractions 8 minutes apart for a number of days. Based on the ultrasound I had just the week before, PCB was still measuring small, though better than before (now 25th percentile), but PCB was just small enough that I wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of going into labor early and having a teeny tiny little baby. Diva Doula told me to lie down on my left side for an hour or so, drink a lot of water and see if my contractions slowed down or stopped. They didn't. Then she told me to just say the word, and she would get on a plane; her hubby was getting ready to get her on a plane. We talked it through for a while and decided, just in case, to get her on a plane. If she was here for a couple of days, that was fine. Better than her missing the birth altogether.
Diva Doula came in, and I continued to have contractions. Then, at some point right before I went to bed, they disappeared, only to come back with a royal vengeance while I was sleeping. I was afraid I would go into labor in the wee hours of the morning; but at least Pop Culture Dad and Diva Doula were there. The next morning, I told Pop Culture Dad to go on to work, and I would call him if he needed to come home. By then, I had steady contractions 5 minutes apart. He later told me that he got ribbed all day for being at work while his wife was in labor. During the day, Diva Doula and I tried to help the labor along. We went geocaching. We drove around. We walked. At one point when we were walking around my neighborhood, the contractions got so bad I had trouble walking. We were actually getting close to the point where my midwives told me to call them back. But I didn't feel like I should go to the hospital yet. So we went back to the house where I decided to go relax in the tub... and the contractions disappeared again. WTH? Same pattern as the night before, my contractions got frequent, horrible and painful in the middle of the night, but no magic happened.
The next day was my midwife appointment. The midwife with whom we met, Mary, thought it was weird that I had contractions that steady and close that got stronger and then went nowhere, but it wasn't unheard of. She checked me, and it turned out I hadn't made any progress from the week before. I was still a fingertip dilated and about 60% effaced. So I basically had two days of contractions for nothing. At this point, I was days away from being 39 weeks. It was time to talk induction dates. Mary told me point-blank that, two days of false labor notwithstanding, Pop Culture Baby was not ready to go anywhere. An induction date at the early end of 39 weeks would not be a good idea. I began to get fearful that an induction date at any time would not be a good idea. But seeing as I only had a one week window in which to give birth (gee, thanks, GD), I picked my due date as my induction date. Might as well make it to 40 weeks, right? Mary agreed to give me Prepadil the next week to see if that helped move things along so I could avoid induction. It was a great start, but still pretty sucky. I went back to my car and cried. Hard. Diva Doula was such awesome support (a necessity when you feel like a complete tool, like I did). We went walking and geocaching some more, in hope of sparking more labor. Nada. That day, I decided the GD diet was off. Let me tell you, I really enjoyed my comfort-Frosty that day.
Diva Doula went home the next morning, and I went to the hospital for my Prepadil. Mary told me to go walking (preferably around a mall with a credit card) to see if I could get some contractions going. Nada. When I went in a few days later for my midwife appointment [now after a full week and a couple days of "false" labor, which felt pretty damn real], I was ready to tell them not to induce me at all. I was really afraid of being one of those ladies who has a horrible induction experience and ends up either having an awful, long labor or winding up getting a c-section. I had another ultrasound. Pop Culture Baby had a growth spurt, and was suddenly estimated at 50th percentile. Dawn, the midwife that day, checked me again. I had made a wee bit of progress, but not much. In fact, I had gone from 60% effaced to 50% effaced. WTF?? Dawn, however, was convinced that I was ready, and that an induction would go beautifully. As some added insurance, though, Dawn stripped my membranes and scheduled me for another Prepadil the next day. She warned me that the stripping may do nothing, or it could send me into labor. You just never know. Later that day, I was in the grocery store, having the worst contractions to date. I actually felt pretty good about going into labor. I had bloody show that night. The next morning, I ended up calling my midwives at 4 a.m. to see if I should even go in for the second dose of Prepadil, because I was having contractions 6 minutes apart. I was told that even if I ended up not going into labor, they could not administer Prepadil with my contractions that close together. So, basically, I just had to wait and see if I went into labor. This should be no surprise: I didn't.
Eviction Day
Diva Doula came back the next day. We basically snacked on labor cookies and got together snacks and everything I needed to go to the hospital. Diva Doula also taught Pop Culture Dad various pressure points and techniques to help me during labor. We talked about how my labor went with PCT, and for the first time ever, I realized that (save for my water breaking on its own), that I had made zero progress until I was given the dreaded pitocin monster. It was possible that I'm one of those unlucky ladies who will contract for days and days without any real progress, absent medical intervention.
The next day was eviction day. And, I won't lie: I was terrified. I had always planned on having a completely natural birth. Now, after more than a week of false labor, I knew I was going to get stuck with pitocin whether I liked it or not. And, let's face it, my confidence in my own ability to face pitocin without an epidural was very very low. I was also terrified, after having such a long period of unproductive labor, that I was going to end up either in labor for 24 hours or with a c-section... or worse, both.
My induction was scheduled for 7 a.m. on the 29th. Pop Culture Dad, Diva Doula and I left the house at the buttcrack of dawn and started heading (late) to the hospital, only to get a call as we were getting on the freeway that there were no beds available, so I'd have to call back in a few hours to see if I could come in. They ended up telling me to come to the hospital between 11 and 11:30. We got there at 11ish and had to wait a while. They hooked me up to the pit drip around 1. When I went in, I was 3 cm dilated and about 50% effaced. Pop Culture Baby was at a -3 station. So, yeah, not even close to anything happening.
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| Leaving for the hospital... again |
A few hours went by, and the contractions were getting worse, but it still looked like I had a long time to go. Pop Culture Dad and Diva Doula were fantastically helping me manage my pain and sneaking me food and drinks. At 5:30 or so, I posted a message to the impatient mommies on our parenting group that the "aunties" were going to have to simmer down, because Pop Culture Baby wasn't making an appearance any time soon. The ladies were all on gender watch and tired of not knowing what kind of equipment PCB was bearing. Around 6 or 6:30 , my midwife checked me, and I was 100% effaced, but still only about 3 cm (but this time a "loose" 3 instead of a hard one) and at a -1. She asked if I wanted to have my water broken. We debated it for a while, especially the warning about how much it would suck. Eventually, in the interest of not being in labor all freaking night, I told her to go for it. Almost immediately after she broke my water, things really kicked into gear [shit got real, y'all!].
At some point around 7 p.m., I was just done. Diva Doula and PCD were absolutely fantastic, but I knew I had barely made any progress before all of the madness started, and I couldn't imagine being like that another four hours or whatever. So I started asking my midwife if it was too late to get an epi. She said "probably," and she and Diva Doula kept encouraging me to keep on, at least for a while. **WARNING WARNING HERE COMES THE TMI/YOU'LL-KNOW-TOO-MUCH-ABOUT
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| Thanks, Debbie! |
Honestly, I had absolutely no idea what was going on at this point. Diva Doula had to fill me in on some of the finer details later. After PCB popped out (literally), Debbie held her up so we could see the gender. Even looking, I had no idea [I swear I know what the parts look like!]. I think I was just still surprised there was a baby there. I still didn't know if I had a son or a daughter until Pop Culture Dad announced, "It's a girl!". I vaguely remember saying at some point after my eyes focused and I noticed that there was in fact a baby there, "Oh! And she has some color! Yay!". I had another beautiful little girl. A 7 pound, 12 ounce, 20.5" little princess (who, other than her much smaller size, slightly darker skin and brown eyes, and fantastic dimples, is an exact replica of her big sister, who is a pretty close carbon copy of me).
One of the best parts came after we were released to my room. My mom and Pop Culture Toddler were already there waiting on us. When the nurse wheeled me in with Pop Culture Baby, PCT walked up to us and said, "Hi, [Baby]. I'm your big sister." Tears. Flowing.
Everybody Wants the Diva to Dou Them
I didn't go into a lot of details of how Diva Doula helped me before and during my labor. For one, it's hard to go into details after the fact. I just remember her there duing the labor, constantly moving and things to do to help out, and her encouraging me along the way. I vaguely remember the little pep talks. They're all fuzzy right now, but I remember at the time, they really helped get me through. To use one of her favorite phrases, Diva Doula (aka Mrs. Christi Mooney of Serenity Birth in GA) was just AWESOME SAUCE. There is absolutely no way I would have been able to do a pitocin-induced, pain medication-free birth without her support. And I probably would have lost my sanity before the main event, too. Remember pregnant ladies: Google is not your friend; but a good doula is.
In fact, Diva Doula was such awesome sauce that the midwife on-call the morning after I gave birth told me how much Debbie had bragged about her, and they wanted to know what service she was with and how to refer her to other clients. You can imagine their disappointment when I told them she's not local. Thanks to Christi's dou-ing, my midwives all gave me the "Rockstar" award for the week.
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| Diva Doula and Pop Culture Baby |
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| First day home with my girls |
I am sure someone has to wonder if I had any media going on during labor, especially considering I once claimed (okay, okay, last year) I'd love to have "Bohemian Rhapsody" playing in the background when I gave birth. We did not have the iPod going. Darn shame, too, considering the short amount of time I spent pushing actually would have left us with a little "Bohemian Rhapsody" left over -- not that anyone would have had time to cue the song up! I actually did get to follow through with my media birth plan, though. We watched Knocked Up for the first two hours of the induction. And, as I had planned a couple of months before, we got our NPH fix. I packed a few DVDs of How I Met Your Mother, but while I was having my awful, water-breaking-induced contractions, we were watching (Ha! "Watching") Dr. Horrible's Sing-along Blog. Good thing we brought our portable DVD player. The L&D room only had VCRs. Oh, how I wish I was kidding!
It's a....
GIRL
Pop Culture Baby made her arrival Thursday evening. Details and birth story to come....
On “Meeting” My Friends
For those of you who actually read and pay attention to all or most of my posts, I imagine a few of you may be thinking, “Well, it’s the end of June. Whatever happened to that April meetup with the other Mommy Bloggers? Ooh.. I bet it got cancelled or didn’t go well.” If there’s anyone who thinks this way, I really couldn’t blame you. In fact, I went to a party last week, and someone point blank asked me if this meetup had ever even happened. I didn’t blame him either. After all, it’s sort of weird if something goes well that it wouldn’t be discussed, right? Well, it went well, fabulous in fact. I’ve just been lazy in getting around to actually writing about it [compare this to Brittney’s three posts about it…]. And, honestly, I’ve been trying to figure out exactly how to word how I feel.
In a sense, I feel like I should have so much to say, because the weekend was so awesome that I should actually have to edit myself to keep the gushing and word count down. On the other hand, meeting up with two of my closest friends who I had never, prior to April 8th, seen in person, felt so natural and so normal, that it felt like any other day out of my life – only in a vacation setting. Honestly, once we got past the initial “crap, are we going to get along in person?” it was like I was just going on vacation with two of my best friends and their families, nothing more.
Without going into too much detail, we were all nervous about finally meeting even after we had all arrived in Phoenix. Turns out, we had nothing to worry about. Everyone got along pretty well. Of course, every now and then we had to resolve the occasional toddler dispute over toys or had trouble figuring out dinner plans for a group of 11 (well, 10.5), but other than that we had a fantastic time. The first night, we hung out around the hotel and ate pizza. On Saturday, since it was raining, we took the kids to Amazing Jakes, an indoor play place and let them run themselves ragged. Sunday, we went to the zoo and then the pool, before our farewell dinner at Bennihana.
The whole weekend was perfect, and Sunday night, we were all sad to go. Of course, this lead to the discussion of “What were we thinking??” making the trip so short. With two days basically reserved for travel, we only had two full days to spend time together. We decided to rectify the situation as soon as possible. Next summer, we’re planning on taking a trip to the Northeast, going to Kat’s neck of the woods. In November, everyone will come down to Texas, and we’ll all take a trip up to San Antonio to walk the River Walk and take the kids to Sea World [tickets have already been booked!!]. And in a wonderful showing of generosity and friendship (a gesture that makes me tear up every time I think about it), Brittney – who is just as pregnant as I – is throwing me a baby shower in August, and she and Kat will be staying with me for the weekend.
Of course, no matter how many vacations we plan, it seems like it’s never enough. Whenever one of us is having a hard day, the general feeling is usually, “I wish you guys were here.” However, even though we’re not physically near each other, we are always there for each other.
What I’m Looking Forward to Most in 2011
There are a lot of things I look forward to in 2011, but nothing more than my meetup with my two closest friends I’ve never seen (in person).
I know for many, if not most, people, it’s unusual to say that someone’s among your “closest friends” if you’ve never met in person, but this is actually pretty standard for me. I am an internet/social networking geek going way back. In the late-80s/early-90s, I had a little system called a “U.S. Videotel.” It only existed in Houston and Dallas, but was basically one of the earliest chatroom systems around. Anyone who had a U.S. Videotel terminal (and in later years, a computer disk) could connect. There was an early form of e-mail, chatrooms, graffiti boards, you name it. Heck, I even won front row NKOTB tickets once for chatting online. Back in the day before anyone had even heard of internet dating and chatrooms, I fixed up my mom – who was afraid of meeting people online – with a NASA engineer with a “Who wants to date my cute mom?” graffiti post. The relationship didn’t last, but because of their one date, my mom and I were among the first non-NASA employees to try Virtual Reality. In high school, I had a group of friends I’d met in the Yak chatrooms on Videotel. Some of my friends were in Dallas, some were in Houston. After months of hanging out online, we did a meetup at the Galleria mall. That meetup became an every-other-week thing. I still have a picture of Jessica, Kevin, Rachel and I hanging out in front of the ice skating rink. Good times. And my first friends met online.
I also did online dating before there was an internet. In fact, later in life, I even dated a guy who was one of the pioneers of internet dating – a friend of mine for over a decade who revolutionized the BBS dating system only to be part of the group to first launch their site on the WWW. That same dating site was really my first social network. Instead of just meeting people to date, I made friends – lots of friends. There was a large group of us that went out nearly every week when I was in college. In fact, one of those friends recently posted on Facebook a picture of me at a New Years Eve party 15 years ago – pictures of our whole Matchmaker crew, in fact. All of this happened back in the days of dial-up. Yes, the internet and I go way back, and I can thank her for me meeting Pop Culture Dad [thanks, Match.com!].
Given my long history of online relationships, it is not unusual that at the beginning of my pregnancy, I found myself in pregnancy forums. At the suggestion of a friend, I tried iVillage briefly. It didn’t really work out for me. Soon, however, I found my home on What to Expect.com. And it was there that I met Kat and Brittney – my two closest friends I’ve never met. Heck, two of my closest friends, period.
We were all due at various times in December 2008 [even though two of us ended up giving birth in November]. We all started off active on the forums, and then Brittney sort of disappeared from them. Kat and I remained active on the boards (according to our husbands, maybe too active at times), and forged a friendship. She eventually became the Den Mother of our expecting board and a featured blogger, and somehow talked me into doing both too. It was through the featured blogger program that we reconnected with Brittney. Even though there was no “office,” Kat and Brittney were my coworkers. Most importantly, though, they were my friends. Kat and I were already frequent e-mail chatters, and eventually we roped Brittney in too. Our friendship consists at times of more than 100 e-mails a day – and it’s at the point where we apologize for having real lives and not getting to e-mails sooner.
We have “celebrated” kids’ births and birthdays together, as well as our own birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. We have helped each other through trying times and cheered each other on during triumphs. We have watched our bellies grow together and watched our children grow from itty bitty babies to sassy toddlers. We have shared every major and minor event in our lives (past, present, and plans for the future) together. We have talked politics, religion, music, television, movies – you name it. And sometimes we’re stupid and silly just for the sake of it all. We may have never met in person, but we are a strong set of gal pals.
Really, it’s geography’s fault that we’ve never met. Navigating between Massachusetts, Texas and Arizona isn’t exactly easy – particularly with six adults and five children among us. Last year on New Years Day, my one and only one resolution was that I would finally meet Kat and Brittney in person. They each made reciprocal resolutions. It’s been a really busy year for all of us (particularly with Brittany being pregnant and giving birth to the gorgeous Isla in July), so the meetup never materialized. However, in September, we decided that if we couldn’t complete the meetup by year-end, we would at least book it… And we have!
In four months, I will “meet” my good friends, their hubbies, and their children. Considering our husbands and kids already know more about each other than people we see fairly often, I imagine the meetup will feel more like a family reunion. My daughter already refers to them as aunts and their children as cousins, so I really do feel like I will be seeing family.
Brittney once said she imagines our meetup will look like this:
I imagine, given our personalities, it will look more like this:
Either way, I’m sure we’ll blog about it.
I know for many, if not most, people, it’s unusual to say that someone’s among your “closest friends” if you’ve never met in person, but this is actually pretty standard for me. I am an internet/social networking geek going way back. In the late-80s/early-90s, I had a little system called a “U.S. Videotel.” It only existed in Houston and Dallas, but was basically one of the earliest chatroom systems around. Anyone who had a U.S. Videotel terminal (and in later years, a computer disk) could connect. There was an early form of e-mail, chatrooms, graffiti boards, you name it. Heck, I even won front row NKOTB tickets once for chatting online. Back in the day before anyone had even heard of internet dating and chatrooms, I fixed up my mom – who was afraid of meeting people online – with a NASA engineer with a “Who wants to date my cute mom?” graffiti post. The relationship didn’t last, but because of their one date, my mom and I were among the first non-NASA employees to try Virtual Reality. In high school, I had a group of friends I’d met in the Yak chatrooms on Videotel. Some of my friends were in Dallas, some were in Houston. After months of hanging out online, we did a meetup at the Galleria mall. That meetup became an every-other-week thing. I still have a picture of Jessica, Kevin, Rachel and I hanging out in front of the ice skating rink. Good times. And my first friends met online.
I also did online dating before there was an internet. In fact, later in life, I even dated a guy who was one of the pioneers of internet dating – a friend of mine for over a decade who revolutionized the BBS dating system only to be part of the group to first launch their site on the WWW. That same dating site was really my first social network. Instead of just meeting people to date, I made friends – lots of friends. There was a large group of us that went out nearly every week when I was in college. In fact, one of those friends recently posted on Facebook a picture of me at a New Years Eve party 15 years ago – pictures of our whole Matchmaker crew, in fact. All of this happened back in the days of dial-up. Yes, the internet and I go way back, and I can thank her for me meeting Pop Culture Dad [thanks, Match.com!].
Given my long history of online relationships, it is not unusual that at the beginning of my pregnancy, I found myself in pregnancy forums. At the suggestion of a friend, I tried iVillage briefly. It didn’t really work out for me. Soon, however, I found my home on What to Expect.com. And it was there that I met Kat and Brittney – my two closest friends I’ve never met. Heck, two of my closest friends, period.
We were all due at various times in December 2008 [even though two of us ended up giving birth in November]. We all started off active on the forums, and then Brittney sort of disappeared from them. Kat and I remained active on the boards (according to our husbands, maybe too active at times), and forged a friendship. She eventually became the Den Mother of our expecting board and a featured blogger, and somehow talked me into doing both too. It was through the featured blogger program that we reconnected with Brittney. Even though there was no “office,” Kat and Brittney were my coworkers. Most importantly, though, they were my friends. Kat and I were already frequent e-mail chatters, and eventually we roped Brittney in too. Our friendship consists at times of more than 100 e-mails a day – and it’s at the point where we apologize for having real lives and not getting to e-mails sooner.
We have “celebrated” kids’ births and birthdays together, as well as our own birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays. We have helped each other through trying times and cheered each other on during triumphs. We have watched our bellies grow together and watched our children grow from itty bitty babies to sassy toddlers. We have shared every major and minor event in our lives (past, present, and plans for the future) together. We have talked politics, religion, music, television, movies – you name it. And sometimes we’re stupid and silly just for the sake of it all. We may have never met in person, but we are a strong set of gal pals.
Really, it’s geography’s fault that we’ve never met. Navigating between Massachusetts, Texas and Arizona isn’t exactly easy – particularly with six adults and five children among us. Last year on New Years Day, my one and only one resolution was that I would finally meet Kat and Brittney in person. They each made reciprocal resolutions. It’s been a really busy year for all of us (particularly with Brittany being pregnant and giving birth to the gorgeous Isla in July), so the meetup never materialized. However, in September, we decided that if we couldn’t complete the meetup by year-end, we would at least book it… And we have!
In four months, I will “meet” my good friends, their hubbies, and their children. Considering our husbands and kids already know more about each other than people we see fairly often, I imagine the meetup will feel more like a family reunion. My daughter already refers to them as aunts and their children as cousins, so I really do feel like I will be seeing family.
Brittney once said she imagines our meetup will look like this:
I imagine, given our personalities, it will look more like this:
Either way, I’m sure we’ll blog about it.
The (Unofficial) Swirly Baby Convention
Recently, my family made the trek from Houston to Austin for the one-year birthday party for the twins of one of my oldest friends. [aside: Texas geography lesson coming up]. I knew that Pop Culture Toddler wouldn't be the only biracial child there, because the G twins are also biracial. That meant there would be at least three biracial kids there. I knew the odds were that there would be at least a couple more, but I had no idea that we would be attending the unofficial Texas biracial baby convention.
From the second we walked in the door, we were surrounded by swirly toddlers. There were the two cuties at the craft table, who were undoubtedly part-black despite the fact that they were sitting with their white mother. There was the British couple in the corner (mom black, father white) with their gorgeous six month old daughter. There was the blonde "black" kid with the dreadlocks. There was the mother who appeared to be herself biracial or maybe Jewish (close call) with her two children, one of whom appeared to be Hispanic, the other of which appeared to be half-black (they were both, in fact, half-black). There was my friend's cousin, who I hadn't seen in over a decade, with her daughter who was undoubtedly half-white (confirmed after I met the hubby). It was amazing! And I swear more and more biracial kids popped up after our arrival. Even better, most of these kids were generally my daughter's age.
At one point, my friend checked on the hubby and I to see if we were having fun, and I confirmed that not only were we having a great time (well worth the three-and-a-half hour drive), but props to her on filling her house and backyard with so many mixed kids. Her response was something to the effect of, "Wild, right? It's like a little Swirly Baby Convention!" That was the perfect description.
I know that biracial families are not unusual these days. As I've previously blogged, even the media (PBS Kids in particular) is starting to catch on that families these days look a little different from what people may have seen 10 or 20 years ago. I know that my daughter is not even the only biracial child in her classroom. That all being said, I have seriously, never in my life, seen that many biracial couples or children in one place at one time, and I loved every minute of it.
My daughter isn't yet at the stage where she's aware of race, but she has learned her colors, and she is smart enough to observe differences in people's appearances. I know that when she says "Mommy, brown. Daddy, white. Caitie, white," she's merely reciting colors (and she hasn't yet learned "beige" or any other fancier color descriptions like "raw sienna"). I know that when she sees a picture of a darker Hispanic girl with curly hair, points to it and says her best friend's name, she's not being unintentionally racist; she really thinks it looks like her friend (who, incidentally, is also biracial/multicultural). At some point, these observations will turn into awareness of differences. While I hope this "some point" is later rather than sooner, I'm glad that it seems there will be enough kids around her age with family makeups like her own that it won't seem so unusual to her. Too bad almost all of these particular kids live so far away.
Speaking of... Check my next post for a Texas geography lesson.
Posted from my iPhone
From the second we walked in the door, we were surrounded by swirly toddlers. There were the two cuties at the craft table, who were undoubtedly part-black despite the fact that they were sitting with their white mother. There was the British couple in the corner (mom black, father white) with their gorgeous six month old daughter. There was the blonde "black" kid with the dreadlocks. There was the mother who appeared to be herself biracial or maybe Jewish (close call) with her two children, one of whom appeared to be Hispanic, the other of which appeared to be half-black (they were both, in fact, half-black). There was my friend's cousin, who I hadn't seen in over a decade, with her daughter who was undoubtedly half-white (confirmed after I met the hubby). It was amazing! And I swear more and more biracial kids popped up after our arrival. Even better, most of these kids were generally my daughter's age.
At one point, my friend checked on the hubby and I to see if we were having fun, and I confirmed that not only were we having a great time (well worth the three-and-a-half hour drive), but props to her on filling her house and backyard with so many mixed kids. Her response was something to the effect of, "Wild, right? It's like a little Swirly Baby Convention!" That was the perfect description.
I know that biracial families are not unusual these days. As I've previously blogged, even the media (PBS Kids in particular) is starting to catch on that families these days look a little different from what people may have seen 10 or 20 years ago. I know that my daughter is not even the only biracial child in her classroom. That all being said, I have seriously, never in my life, seen that many biracial couples or children in one place at one time, and I loved every minute of it.
My daughter isn't yet at the stage where she's aware of race, but she has learned her colors, and she is smart enough to observe differences in people's appearances. I know that when she says "Mommy, brown. Daddy, white. Caitie, white," she's merely reciting colors (and she hasn't yet learned "beige" or any other fancier color descriptions like "raw sienna"). I know that when she sees a picture of a darker Hispanic girl with curly hair, points to it and says her best friend's name, she's not being unintentionally racist; she really thinks it looks like her friend (who, incidentally, is also biracial/multicultural). At some point, these observations will turn into awareness of differences. While I hope this "some point" is later rather than sooner, I'm glad that it seems there will be enough kids around her age with family makeups like her own that it won't seem so unusual to her. Too bad almost all of these particular kids live so far away.
Speaking of... Check my next post for a Texas geography lesson.
Posted from my iPhone
Biracial Families on Kids’ TV Shows
On behalf of biracial families everywhere, PBS Kids, we thank you for showing that it's perfectly natural and normal for parents to be different races, and we especially thank you for teaching this lesson by showing it, and not by making a big deal of the fact that some of your most popular characters are biracial.
My daughter is just starting to get to the point where she's really into "her" television shows. While we're getting ready in the morning, I turn on PBS Kids. Two of the shows that run back to back just before we run out the door include biracial families.
The first family like ours is on Sid the Science Kid. To be quite honest, I found this show really annoying at first. I've started to get into it, though, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that part of the reason I got into the show is because I finally noticed Sid's parents. Sid's mom is black, and his dad is white (Jewish, in fact). Actually, more accurately, his parents are orange. But I think it's pretty apparent that his mom (despite her orange skin and blue hair) is supposed to be black, and his dad (with his slightly lighter orange skin and dark red-orange hair) is white. This was made all the more obvious for people like my husband who just aren't that convinced, by their holiday episode. Sid celebrated Christmas and Kwaanza with his mom and Hanukah with his dad. You don't get more matter-of-fact than that.
The second of the biracial families is on Super Why!. Princess Pea [whose Super Reader alter-ego is "Princess Presto"] is biracial. The Wikipedia entry for Super Why! describes Princess Pea as "a girl of biracial descent." Honestly, I had thought she was just a black girl with green eyes – my family is full of them – but after doing a lot of Google research [sorry, I'm obsessed with this idea now], I've discovered that her father, Prince Charming, is indeed white. And her mother – the princess from the Princess and the Pea story -- is black. It took me a while to finally see the episode with her parents, but in true PBS Kids fashion, once it ran, I saw it 10 more times within the next month.
Seeing biracial families on television is a treat for me always. And it is especially sweet when the biracial families include a black mother and white father. It is actually rare to see a black woman with a white man (it is much more common the other way around), so it's amazing to see two shows that play back to back which have that sort of family structure. It's wonderful to think that my daughter will see shows with biracial families who look like her own, and that she will see how we are perfectly normal. So YAY for PBS Kids!!
The first family like ours is on Sid the Science Kid. To be quite honest, I found this show really annoying at first. I've started to get into it, though, and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that part of the reason I got into the show is because I finally noticed Sid's parents. Sid's mom is black, and his dad is white (Jewish, in fact). Actually, more accurately, his parents are orange. But I think it's pretty apparent that his mom (despite her orange skin and blue hair) is supposed to be black, and his dad (with his slightly lighter orange skin and dark red-orange hair) is white. This was made all the more obvious for people like my husband who just aren't that convinced, by their holiday episode. Sid celebrated Christmas and Kwaanza with his mom and Hanukah with his dad. You don't get more matter-of-fact than that.
The second of the biracial families is on Super Why!. Princess Pea [whose Super Reader alter-ego is "Princess Presto"] is biracial. The Wikipedia entry for Super Why! describes Princess Pea as "a girl of biracial descent." Honestly, I had thought she was just a black girl with green eyes – my family is full of them – but after doing a lot of Google research [sorry, I'm obsessed with this idea now], I've discovered that her father, Prince Charming, is indeed white. And her mother – the princess from the Princess and the Pea story -- is black. It took me a while to finally see the episode with her parents, but in true PBS Kids fashion, once it ran, I saw it 10 more times within the next month.
Seeing biracial families on television is a treat for me always. And it is especially sweet when the biracial families include a black mother and white father. It is actually rare to see a black woman with a white man (it is much more common the other way around), so it's amazing to see two shows that play back to back which have that sort of family structure. It's wonderful to think that my daughter will see shows with biracial families who look like her own, and that she will see how we are perfectly normal. So YAY for PBS Kids!!
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