White moms, mixed kids, and hair (again)

Here we go again. Seems like this issue recycles over and over.

Read this article first, published on The Root, but it will probably make you mad. It sure lit a fire in me. I’m a White Mom With Biracial Children, and What I Do With Their Hair Is No One’s Business

Other than no one should just come up and touch your child's hair, I couldn't disagree more with this writer. 

As a white mother of biracial Black children it was my job and responsibility to learn the cultural values around their hair and how to care for it properly. I am glad Black women - including friends and strangers in the store - offered advice on products and techniques. I didn't know. My kids deserved to have hair that looked like their peers' hair, and that was healthy and neat. 

Frankly, after I learned how to braid, plait, twist and make puffs, even with practice, I was only just okay with my daughter's hair. And we had a few relaxer and hot comb disasters as she got older and wanted processed hair (like her friends). We found a stylist who could do blowouts for special occasions. And someone who could do awesome braids. 

I was relieved when she and her friends started doing each other's hair in high school. It was an art form I never mastered. And I was so glad my son and his friends found all the barbers that could make tight fades and designs in their loose, mixed kids hair (you remember the 90s, right?) 

My granddaughter and me. Different hair, different needs.

Change is brewing

I'll be 59 in April and somehow this approaching birthday - or more accurately, the beginning of the final countdown to 60 - has triggered the beginnings of seismic internal reflections about life, direction, time lived, time left, and so much more.


I don't plan. I lean into change, and when what I need to do and where I need to go manifests itself, I leap. I feel the tremors of a great leap coming. Similar to when I came out almost 25 years ago in my mid-30s. I had inklings, feelings, and then a slow rumbling (and a few secret kisses) that were telling me I was queer and needed to leave the good life I was living, and leap into the amazing life I've lived since. One day it all fell into sharp focus - I was actually driving in my car and suddenly yelled to myself, "I'm a lesbian!" and started to laugh and cry - and then I acted. Within a month I had left my kind husband, announced my queerness to the world, and found my first girlfriend.

The next great shift is coming. I'm leaning in and getting hints and signs. But mostly, right now, I don't know what will come. I just feel it coming. I'm thinking of re-activating this blog in some kind of way, to document the unfolding. Or maybe a new blog, or a different kind of thing all together. Or maybe I'll fall off the grid and be in coffee shops or out in the woods. Or downtown. Or someplace else in the world. We'll see. 

In the meantime, here's a very old piece of writing (with apologies to Tim O'Brien) that I did shortly after that last seismic shift happened (so long ago I still put two spaces between sentences). Reading it today, it is so corny, but so full of the amazement and pure joy of being a freshly hatched queer girl all those years ago.

The things she carried out 

When she walked out of the closet she carried her secret with her, and her children, but left behind her borrowed last name, and her husband, who was not surprised but sad to see her go.  When she walked out of the closet she looked around and saw doors flinging open everywhere, and a chorus of radical dyke angels greeting the multitudes, who were dressed in all kind of ways, and going in all kind of directions.  She saw the attorney in heels and a three-piece suit, the school superintendent, who was dancing under bright lights and not hiding his face.  She saw mothers everywhere, and fathers, and even a bevy of grandmothers.  Kids were twirling around a Maypole and holding streamers of every hue in the rainbow.  Lavender kites were flying in the sky.  When she walked out of the closet she saw artists and car mechanics.  She saw her friend the piano tuner and his new lover playing blackjack at Mystic Lake.  From the corner of her eye she saw her fifth grade teacher surrounded by a big crowd of aging teachers, nurses and nuns.  They were singing old Andrews Sisters songs and bent over laughing from their attempts at three-part harmony.  When she walked out of the closet she saw the women she had secretly kissed and touched, saw her future lovers and friends, who were no secret to anyone, and amazingly, were all together having a party and dancing to Nina Simone, Sade, Anita Baker, Stevie Wonder and even Prince, that bad boy. When she walked out of the closet and opened the door to the rest of her life, she never once turned back except to wave goodbye.

October, 1993

Our VRBO vacation

My spouse Susan and I just returned from a nine day vacation to the beautiful Pacific Northwest. We spent a few days in Vancouver BC, a couple on Whidbey Island in Puget Sound, and a few in Seattle WA. For the first time, we used Vacation Rental By Owner (VRBO) to book where we would stay. VRBO is an alternative to hotels - you can find places that are in people's homes, duplexes, apartments and more for short term rental.

Experiencing VRBO-style lodging was an adventure within our adventure and I'd like to offer up a review of our experiences to help other VRBO explorers with their choices.

We were on a budget and were trying to stay as close to $130/night or less if possible (actually we first tried for $100 or less, but the pickings were pretty slim), so we were looking for studio or one-bedroom sized places. We had amazingly good success in two out three of our choices (check the links for each place to see the listing, including photos):

Stay one: Strathcozy, Vancouver 

Good friends recommended this spot and I can see why. This fabulous unit is half of a duplex owned by two wonderful gay men who lovingly updated the rental unit. Every single detail was considered and executed in their remodel. Highest quality appliances, and it included laundry and a jacuzzi style tub/shower! Cozy and comfy through out. Spotless. Nice touches like coffee and a basket of snack food in the kitchen. Sweet little balcony off the dining room. A full bedroom with a very comfortable bed and quality linens. And they were totally great guys. 

When our hosts realized Susan was significantly mobility impaired from a knee and ankle sprain, they bent over backwards to make sure we had what we needed and even helped haul our luggage upstairs. They were generous and gracious. We enjoyed brief chats when we encountered them in our comings and goings and they offered great tips on where to go, what to do. Had we stayed longer, I think a happy hour with them would have happened. 

The place is located in the Strathcona neighborhood, an easy shot to all the Vancouver spots we wanted to visit. 

Lesson one: Recommendations are the bomb and we loved renting from fellow queers! (They gladly also rent to straight travelers.) Rent this place if you are ever staying in Vancouver.

Stay two: Langely Studio Apartment, Whidbey Island

This was our biggest disappointment. The rental is a backyard studio (perhaps a converted garage?) in Langely, on the southern part of the island. No view of the water, but a short walk into town and the views. Places were relatively more expensive to rent on any of the Puget Sound Islands since we were looking during high tourist season, so we did our costing cutting here, choosing this spot over one that would have cost $20 more a night but would have had a view of Useless Bay.

What were we thinking?! (We were probably still shooting for under $100 when we booked this one.) People, when you are on a budget, also remember you are on a vacation and you may never pass through where you are again in your life! It was cool and rainy while we were there and for the cost of a nice meal out we could have been reading and looking out of a window onto gorgeous Puget Sound. But instead we had a view of a backyard.

The unit itself was worn and clearly pulled together on a budget with aging furniture and 80s era appliances. And no special touches at all - there weren't even ice cube trays in the freezer! It was akin to visiting your aunt, who hasn't updated her place for 40 years and worse, has lost interest in cleaning. I wouldn't have minded the worn so much if it had been clean. There was dog hair all over the bedspreads and even on the window curtain in the sleeping area! The bar of soap in the bathroom was very used (sliver-sized). The lock to the sliding door was worthless. Luckily crime is low on Whidbey Island because a crafty seven-year-old could have broken in. There is more, but I'll quit - you get the idea. And we never saw the owners, not even a hello (they left it unlocked for us and we had paid in full already). We were on our own in someone's dingy backyard digs, in the rain. Luckily, we were only there for two nights and one full day.

Lesson two: Don't be so cheap! Get the room with a view! And beware of fixed up units in people's basements and backyards. Make sure they are what you want because there are some hot messes out there! The photos for a listing can be deceiving so look closely and think about what you are seeing. A place like this would be better for a family with kids and pets because no worries about wrecking a fancy or fussy place.

The only photo I took. Susan in the cramped bed, window looking out to the rain and side yard view. 

I wish I had taken a closeup of the dog hair decorating the curtain.

Stay three: St. John's Apartments, Seattle

For the last leg of our trip we stayed in an awesome storefront apartment building that had recently converted some of their units to short-term rentals. We were in the oh-so-hip Capitol Hill neighborhood (which is also the gayborhood) and loved being in an area full of interesting people (of the young, inked, pierced, hipster variety with a Seattle grunge twist) and easy walks to many cool, affordable restaurants, bars, and coffee shops. There was a great Thai restaurant just below us and we were right next to a grocery store. We even walked across the street one evening to a funky bar to watch the Seahawks game.

The unit was clean, nicely updated and cozy. Amenities included coffee and basic stuff like sugar and spices. The manager was a nice, friendly young woman who was very accessible and helped me lug our suitcases up to the unit and offered suggestions of where to eat that were close by (Susan was still limping her way through our vacation). We loved walking down the stairs and right onto a busy, happening street (well onto the sidewalk). And parking came with the rental, which was great as parking was expensive and a challenge to find. The location is an easy shot to anywhere you want to go in Seattle, by car or public transportation.

Lesson three: Professionally managed short-term-stay apartments are a great option for city stays. If we had gone with the basement unit in someone's home that was choice number two for us, we would have missed all the fun and maybe encountered more dog hair. We paid $20 more a night to stay here and it was more than well worth it (I'm still scratching my head about our cheap-ass choice on Whidbey Island). 

Conclusion: We loved the variety and interesting options we found using VRBO. While it was expensive, it was comparable to if not cheaper than hotels, and included kitchens! And best of all, they were mini homes, which was so nice for times we just wanted to stay in and chill (except for you know which one). We are leaving hotels behind on future trips and will continue the VRBO way! I'm glad each spot was different, giving us a good sample of what's out there. Next trip we'll be more savvy. But for our first try, two out of three ain't bad! 

If you aren't lucky enough to have friends who you can stay with in the places you are visiting, VRBO is a spendy but great alternative. If you are traveling with another couple or a few friends, you could rent two bedroom places that would cost less for each person overall and not be stuck doubled up in a hotel room - now that's a deal to consider!

Happy travels!

Best party/reunion Soul Train playlist ever

I make playlists and post the best of them here. 

I didn't make this one, but it is perfect. And the gifs...

The 59 Best Songs For The Soul Train Line At Your Family Reunion

Remember the day we elected a Black man president?

Where were you on election night, 2008? Seems so long ago, doesn't it - the night we first elected Barack Obama President of the United States of America.

He's been our president for almost six years now - one and half terms. My world of progressive, liberal, solidly democratic friends has differing views on his presidency. Some are disillusioned - he didn't live up to their hope for great, radical change. Some feel he's done the best he can in a landscape of partisan gridlock and tea-party-fueled racial hatred, and that he has accomplished a lot. I'm in that camp, for the record, but both points of view are valid. 

Yet in 2014, wherever your politics fall, in so many ways he is President Obama first, and President-Obama-the-first-Black-president second - or at least that fact is less sharply in view. We are used to him. We have watched his daughters grow up and we have watched Michelle Obama be awesome as she makes her way as First Lady with such panache (which is probably such an act of buttoning up her full self that we under appreciate what she is actually pulling off).

But let's go back. Let's remember our own personal Nov 4, 2008 and what that moment in time felt like as we gathered to watch in wonder and disbelief as - in our lifetimes, our children's lifetimes, our parents' lifetimes, and for some our grandparents' lifetimes - we elected an African American man president of these racist United States.

I'm awash with those feelings right now. I am three quarters of the way through Americanah, (click on the link if you don't know about this amazing piece of literature by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie) and just finished her recounting of electing Obama president, and so my memories have flooded back and I'm am sharing them now, free flow unedited blog style, before they recede and fade back to gray.

A small group gathered at my house, some of my circle of black, brown, and white lesbian friends, my spouse, my adult daughter, my young granddaughter, a friend's adult child, and another friend's small child. We watched history unfold, together. We were abuzz with excitement and anticipation as the results rolled in. We held our breaths and waited, and maybe prayed. And then all joyous hell broke loose and soon we watched with utter amazement and unabashed jubilance as this beautiful, brilliant man and his beautiful family emerged from the darkness of election night out into the lighted stage of Grant Park in Chicago to speak to the world as President-Elect Barack Obama. It was a moment where everything seemed possible because we had just achieved the impossible.

My granddaughter is now nine and her only conscious memory of a U.S. president is of Barack Obama, and of the First Family at the White House being a Black family. This may not occur again in her lifetime, but think about this - the foundation of her thinking about power and leadership and what is normal and expected includes this reality - that the guy in charge and his family look like her family, even down to the intricacies of interracial extended families. For me, this is something at least as powerful as whatever President Obama accomplishes or doesn't in his two terms - that utterly profound shift in point of view about what is possible AND what is normal.

So while we go about our daily lives in 2014 (it's time for me to go grocery shopping), whether you are disappointed with President Obama for the drones, or pipelines, or not doing enough for Black people and poor people; or if you love him almost without exception for who he is, what he is trying to accomplish and has accomplished, and because he achieved this "first" and changed the world forever - take a step back into your memory and your heart and remember the night of Nov. 4, 2008 and how it felt to see the world crack open and possibility explode ten thousand fold.

Here are a couple of snapshots and a video that are a part of my experience. I hope this post and these images inspire you to look back, too. Thank you, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, for pages 437-449 of your book, and the sharpness with which you painted that night and helped me to float for just a while in my own memories of that remarkable moment in time. 

Grandbaby, age 3

 My daughter and me

Yes we can!!

Moments before the election was called... 

And a few TV shots of what followed. (There are no photos of our victory hugs and screams because we were all living it, not recording it).