“Be kind today my sweet boy and pray for those who are unkind for you. Now get out and go learn boy.”
I remember my mom telling me this most every school morning as I eagerly jumped out of our gold minivan to run inside to my friends. My naive young self never did realize how serious my mothers sayings were. I was foolish to the harsh realities of the world. I never saw the turned up brows or heard the scoffs thrown in my families’ direction as my white mother walked through the H-E-B with her three mixed children. All I knew is that if my sisters and I kept listening to our walkmen and didn’t make a scene we would all get to pick a piece of candy when it was time to check out. I never had to deal with much of anything thanks to my mother’s protective reign. Where we went to school, what neighborhood was safest, where we would shop. Everything move she made was made with my sisters’ and my own safety in mind. And, because of this, I never really understood why my mother was so afraid. Her careful planning kept me away from the evils of racism of which she knew. I had friends of every color growing up, not that I knew it at the time. We were all just kids playing together. I never had to deal with much any racism in the way my parents did.
When my mother was 18 she announced to her mother, my future grandmother, that she was in love with my father, a black man. Hours later she was out the door, 3 suitcases in hand, completely disowned. My mothers first personal experience with racism came from the woman who gave her life.
As I flipped through this novel I found it so easy to connect with on a personal level because my parents went through the same things in regards to racism. As Audre recalled moments of her mother protecting her from the cruelness of the world, I too recalled specific moments of my mother protecting me from a hurt she knew all too well.
When I grew older I questioned my mothers protectiveness. My life was so easy, ya know? I never had any real experience with racism and in my mind she was being paranoid. Upon entering high school she gave me my first day of school speech and, of course, reminded me that there were dumb people out there that would have ignorant things to say, but before she could finish I cut her off. “I get it!” I remember screaming, “You tell me the same thing all the time and it is so annoying!” I don’t know where it came from, to quote the greatest movie of our generation, “it was like word vomit,” and I instantly regretted it because crossing my mother was and still is something no one should do. Expecting a quick slap I remember trying to brace myself without looking like I was on the off chance that she somehow wasn’t about to kill me, which, to my surprise, she didn’t. She starred at me for an almost uncomfortable amount of time and then very calmly went up the stairs to her room returning a few moments later with a old box i hadn’t seen before in her hands. She rifled through it for a moment and then placed a picture in my hand that appeared to be a portrait of her at the age of 20 after she had been in a severe fight. I had seen some pretty raunchy fights at school, but there was something about seeing my mom with chunks of her hair missing, gashes on her face, and blood dripping from her nose that made me uncomfortable to the point of feeling physically weak.
“You know what happened?” She asked in a way that really said, “You’re about to feel like a dumb bitch for going off on me, young boy.”
“What?” I uttered.
“When your father and I moved in together for the first time I got my ass beat by the group of girls that lived above us.” She didn’t have to say why because we both knew. “I know you don’t always want to hear what I have to say, but I say the things I do for a reason. You may not want to hear my words, but you’re going to and you’re going to respect them because I’m the only person in this world who cares about you every second of every day.”
I love this book because I see myself and my mother in it time and time again.
Ps, the movie of our generation is Mean Girls. Deal with it.
Seth, thank you for sharing such a personal story with us. I definitely see how your story parallels with that of Audre's.
ReplyDeleteI am slightly able to connect with this story as well, on a personal level and I feel that I can empathize with it, growing up one of few Latinos in an all white community and dealing with quasi-similar situations.
All in all, I have thus far enjoyed the detailed accounts of Lorde's life. I am interested to watch how she grows in the book since I feel like I've known her since she was little! This story seems to be very relatable in one way or another and I see this being a very good read for the class so far.
I love, love, love this blog post. I also related to this book on that same level. When my mother brought my father home (also black), my grandmother shoved a love-seat into the wall. The gash is still there as a constant reminder of how "wrong" it was to be born of two different races. In the case of Zami, I also remember having that naive feeling of never really grasping the sense that my mother was different to me, in a way that most others parents were not. To me, she was just my mother. I didn't know why she was lighter than me or why her hair flowed effortlessly, nor did I care. And it wasn't until the hateful, uncaring world informed me of our differences that I began to be self-aware. I enjoy watching Zami find where she fits in the same way that I, and apparently Seth as well, had to.
ReplyDeleteOh my gosh, Seth, I cannot thank you enough for sharing your story. I never realized how I related to this book on a personal level, until reading your own parallel.
ReplyDeleteI remember my mom always reiterating how important it was to accept people, despite our variations in race, ethnicity, sexuality, gender, and class. I knew that she was open-minded, but I didn't completely understand her incessant lectures until, one day, she showed me a picture of her parents--my grandparents. I didn't understand her point, until she pointed out my Black Puerto Rican grandfather, who lovingly smiled next to my light-skinned Puerto Rican grandmother. My mom then explained the racism her parents had to endure throughout their marriage and the effects this had on her and her siblings. After their struggles resonated with me, I completely understood why my mother passionately instructed us the way she did.
Now that I have this in mind, I know that reading this book is going to impact me that much more. I cannot wait to continue Audre's story.
I can not image what the life is like for a mixed-racial person. I applaud your mom as very considerate and non-judgmental person. As I was reading the novel, I encounter some intimate personal narratives that I would not have faces otherwise. I think this novel fits perfectly with your own personal account in that Lorde was basically in the same boat as you were in; a minority except you have a mother who can give you a different perspective from a different race. I guess the reason why your mother would show you a picture of her after a nasty fight was to inform you that she was not an easy person to deal with and so should you be.
ReplyDeleteI think this goes to Barack Obama as well. I hear stories of states trying to secede from the union. I can only think that many people who may have thought about this were biased and skeptical about this African American president. I don't completely support Obama's policy on economy and especially foreign policy(because he does not pressure North Korea as Bush did). But at the sametime, we still live in society of prejudice. I believe this country faces another civil war in which people are as radically polarized.
Seth, as many have said your story was very powerful. I found myself feeling the extreme emotion along with you that must come with such a sudden shattering of innocence. Linda seems be an embodiment of contradictions: she lies to her children yet demands their respect; she is looked down upon by society and even loses her job because of her appearance, yet she also emanates a sense of wisdom in that she is sought after for advice in public by complete strangers. She has a sense of power that is at once real and artificial. She causes her daughter to feel both pride and shame. I have not had the experience of looking up to such a fearful, yet loving guardian, but I can certainly relate to the way that Lorde admires her mother. My aunt have me a similar sense of security when I was smaller, as she always kept a positive attitude and never failed to smile. I am looking forward to the development of the relationship between the protagonist and her mom, and can only hope that it does not make a turn for the complete tragic, as I would expect in this class.
ReplyDeleteLike most readings in this class, these blog posts continue to enlighten me. I am always made eternally grateful for the easy life I've had compared to the folks I read about, classmates included. Seth, your story is moving and I feel privileged to have been able to here it. These experiences are so important for us to share. I think one the key advantages of accounts like Lorde's is the realness of the stories told. The more relevant the tale, the more it speaks to the reader. I think this is why your post is so moving, Seth--it's very real. Curiously, there always seems to be less finesse in terms of style when you read the biographical accounts than in other works, like fiction novels. There's less metaphor and poetic convention. I think this negative correlation is due to the fact that the fluff becomes unnecessary in the face of a true human story. The more topical and relevant the account, the less need the author has to flower up their sentences. I think Zami is a key example of this bold, simple, unapologetic writing style. It's refreshing, and serves the subject matter very well. Just as I would not have enjoyed reading a embellished account of Seth's story, I feel like excessive artistry would have done a disservice to Lorde's account.
ReplyDeleteRandomly, I was thinking about the scene where Audre meets Toni and doesn’t understand that she is actually a little girl. I had a time when I was around three, four, or five where I met a dog, but I thought he was a stuffed animal because I’d never seen a dog so small before. It was one of those weird little ones that can fit in a cup. Anyways, it was my neighbor’s and when the grown-ups weren’t looking, I pinched its ear for some reason. I think it was because I couldn’t really fathom it actually being a dog. Anyways, that moment where Audre’s mother comes back by to grab her and Audre is so full of dread was the same situation I got into save that I was actually reprimanded (and for good reason) about the froo-froo dog. It is an interesting memory and certainly parallels Audre's event with the emotions of wonder and confusion that turn into a dread and shame. I suppose it points out how we may have similar tales even with a world of differences, times, and cultures between us.
ReplyDeleteSuch a powerful story. Growing up at the same time as you and also being of color, I can relate to your sentiment of feeling like your mom was just being dramatic and her talks were unnecessary. However, being biracial paints an even bigger target. It kind of reminds me of an episode of parenthood a couple of weeks ago when an african american mom had to sit down with her african american son and have the "we're different" talk. My mom also had this talk with me, but with their being black I presume it was alot easier to have as they were speaking from life long experience and a talk that i'm sure their mothers had given them. This is how I see Audre's mother, the challenges they face is a collective one. Although many our age don't have to deal with overt racism, I think its quite commendable for your mother to not ignore your differences and actually consider how your being biracial might affect how you're viewed by society. With the presumption of white privilege, I've never thought of how difficult and stressful it must have been at times for a white mother to have to deal with racial prejudices against she and her family.
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