Comments on: Musings On Miscegenation

By: Jazz

Jazz — Sat, 25 Aug 2007 02:36:37 +0000

Funny, I think our Moms could be pals.

Me: What is it with people staring at me?

Mother: It’s just that you are the most beautiful girl they’ve ever seen.

If I didn’t hold on to that, I’d hate to think of what I’d have for self-esteem.

By: dorothy

dorothy — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 03:04:11 +0000

I pray for your mother’s wisdom with my own child.

By: Janice

Janice — Thu, 23 Aug 2007 01:15:44 +0000

I think the reason that your mom was able to say (and believe) such an incredible thing to her child was because she was secure and self confident in her own “being”. Obviously she was able to pass this along to you and this is what you are teaching your own children, your students and your readers.

By: Chookooloonks

Chookooloonks — Thu, 23 Aug 2007 00:56:15 +0000

I think I love your mother.

By: Babz

Babz — Wed, 22 Aug 2007 22:16:16 +0000

I am SO using your mothers wisdom! I have 4 adopted children, they all look different, I mean DIFFERENT. My husband is a very light-skinned man and I am very sheba comely–meaning I am dark skinned. So we are always getting stared, and I imagine people are trying to figure out the gene pool. So from now on I am going to say to my children exactly what your mama said. You are so beautiful that’s why they are staring!

By: Jennifer James

Jennifer James — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 22:28:10 +0000

I’m not a child of a mixed marriage, but I might as well have been judging by the number of times I was called a “wannabe white girl” because I spoke proper English and my nose was always in a book.

By: Tiggerlane

Tiggerlane — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 19:20:48 +0000

Good response from your mom…and a good lesson for us all. Good and bad people come in all sorts of packages – and I hope I am exposing my daughter to a wide enough cultural experience (totally AWAY from where we live) so that she can be loving and accepting of people.

You sound like such a caring teacher – the lesson of that day had to be FAR better than what you had in your original lesson plan!

By: Oh, The Joys

Oh, The Joys — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 19:09:36 +0000

I love your mother’s comment about your beauty. She’s so right.

By: Aruni

Aruni — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 18:35:16 +0000

Your mom seems really smart. My husband is white and our kids are mixed. I think they are beautiful. I’m fortunate to live in a time and place where that doesn’t seem to be much of an issue anymore…especially here in Austin, Texas. Now when I lived in West Texas I could see that being more of an issue.

When I lived in Albuquerque in the late 70s, I felt people in our predominatly white neighborhood didn’t know what to make of us. I remember a 9 year old blond haired, blue eyed kid at school calling me the N-word (i just cant type it here even though you have already typed it in your post). I had no idea what he meant but he said it with such hate that it scared me. I still remember how I felt when he called me that.

I hope my kids never feel like they don’t belong. I guess now people may stare at us when we got out, I just don’t notice anymore or care.

By: Gillian

Gillian — Tue, 21 Aug 2007 16:53:39 +0000

What a mom. What a great, great reply.

I looked at Heather’s post, and unfortunately read all the comments. Dear god in heaven, it was like banging your head against the wall. Forgive me Heather, but in retrospect you should have ignored her. She was not open or receptive in the least. She set MY teeth on edge! God bless your patience.

You, Mama Mocha, are receptive. Plus spirited. But I, as a white woman, don’t typically feel excluded from your righteous indignation. I’m allowed to be mad with you. So, I like that – too many times, I’ve had friends of other colors who would experience something wretched, then gather others of the same color to bitch about it, and ask me not to join in, because I just couldn’t understand. OK, that’s fair, I don’t. But you don’t understand my childhood loneliness as a Navy brat who moved every other year. Or my sister’s pain as the one with the lowest grades in the family, surrounded by A students. Or my girlfriends’ pain as a pair of lesbian partners, rejected by society and stared at with open hostility. Nobody knows anybody’s pain, really and truly. We all come from a place of pain, unique, and consuming. Kicking me out of your friendship when things get “racial,” though, deprives me of the opportunity to share your pain, and feel it with you, and maybe help heal you, or at least love you. Kelly – you don’t kick me out. And I thank you.