“As I get older, the more I stay focused on the acceptance of myself and others, and choose compassion over judgment and curiosity over fear.” ~ Tracee Ellis Ross.

I have a confession to make.  On Friday mornings I get up with my phone, with notes to myself as my guide for what I will write about this week.  I craft a title, find a quote, and off I go, hoping that my random thoughts and inspirations will weave together a cohesive and impactful message.  Writing in this semi-spontaneous way, sometimes the message veers off from my original intention.  Such was the case last week, as my title (One Drop) referred to the old way of classifying people as ‘Black’ (although that was not the term used in those days).  White folks deemed that so long as you had ‘one drop’ of Black blood (of African descent), you could not be classified as White. 

It seemed a timely discussion to have, since we have been watching a rising star, our candidate for the Presidency of the United States.  And since she can be called ‘Black’, or ‘Asian American’, this seems to confuse those who wish to sow discord and division.  Having raised four children who had to face the question ‘Yes, but what are you?’ during their childhood and beyond, I am sensitive to this need to know people’s ethnic origin, perhaps so they can be labeled, pigeon-holed and looked down upon.  As Sojourner Truth famously demanded to know: ‘Ain’t I a woman?’

What is obvious by keeping your eyes open, is that the United States is a colorful map of humanity.  Anyone who watched the Olympics on a US channel (which tends to keep the focus on the US athletes regardless of who is winning) would be forgiven for thinking that the country consists predominantly of people of color (POC).  This term, by the way, creatively allows for all variations of ethnic origin, since the term is very non-specific and basically means anyone who is not White.  But we also saw, in addition to the many shades in complexion of POC, athletes who were, like Kamala, the product of bi- or multi-racial love, parents whose ancestors started up on different continents but ended up together.  And like my children, they don’t fall neatly into the usual categories.

Second confession.  When I moved in with my high school sweetheart in Miami, a few years after leaving high school in Jamaica, it never occurred to me to worry about how my children would be received or perceived.  Selfishly, I imagined that children born to a couple who loved each other would just be children, with the added interest of how will the blending of the genetic pool affect their appearance?  Many families in Jamaica already have this interest, as the genetic pools often include sources from Europe, Africa and Asia (whether voluntarily added to the mix or obtained through less than pleasant means).  So each of the siblings in a family could be quite different, with blue or green eyes occasionally making an appearance, combined with more traditionally African complexion or facial features.  Which makes for a beautiful population, full of diversity and vibrancy.

Third confession.  I often have a hard time with organized religion, never liking a dogma which insists that you must believe certain facts to be absolute in order to guarantee your place in some imagined heaven.  This in spite of the fact that I was raised in a Christian church, with a minister for a father.  It bothered me, since I was a teenager, that one group of people (any of the organized religions) should think that only their God, their way of worship, their belief system, was the right way, and that all others were doomed to an imagined hell.  In my belief system, regardless of the presence of a Divine source for the world in which we live, what is important is how we treat each other, how we treat the world in which we live, and as one great orator put it this week, whether we leave the world a little better than we found it.  Having said that, there is much in the teachings of Christ which encourage just that, a commitment to being caring, kind and compassionate towards our fellow human beings; loving our neighbor; being meek instead of bragadocious; so many concepts that if we followed them the world would be a much better place.  The hijacking of the term ‘Christian’ by those White Nationalists who embody everything that Christianity is not has certainly stained the legacy.

Having been caught up in (and sometimes slept through) the event that was thrown by the Democratic Party at their national convention this week, like many in this country, I have been infected with the joy and possibilities that energized that space.  There was a diversity and inclusion in those gathered there, both in the loud, raucous crowd and on the stage. that suggests that we can indeed be a nation of harmony, that we can move beyond the cruelty and divisiveness that was exposed over the past decade.  Each night’s program was opened by a person of a different faith.  One speaker declared that ‘no one has a monopoly on what it means to be an American’, a concept which some people find foreign! For in their America, there are White folks, (the ‘true’ Americans) and there are the scary ‘others’.  As if the White folks are not the original illegal, undocumented immigrants who poured in over the borders, raping and pillaging and conquering. 

After the past decade of watching in disappointment, depression and despair the increased exposure of the existence of malicious racism still alive and well in this country, it has been so refreshing and renewing to hear people of all walks of life affirming the beauty and necessity of inclusion and diversity.  I have joined a Facebook group where there are many people (apparently White) who finally feel free to express their disgust at the bigotry, misogyny and cruelty that exists in the country, and to feel joy at the possibilities of a more harmonious country.  It finally feels that if we keep the faith, a new day will dawn, and America will finally be kind again.

After a week of celebrating mothers who raised strong daughters, of fathers who live with compassion and concern for their neighbors, of politicians who demand that we think not only of our children, but of all the children of the world, it is humbling to recognize that sometimes the best advice comes from those whose lives were the hardest.  A woman who was suspicious of those who took more than they needed, or who took more than they gave.  A woman who left her daughters with simple, memorable phrases to guide them (don’t complain, Do Something!).

This Friday morning, I hope that you can see beyond our differences to celebrate our common humanity.  Regardless of political or religious affiliation I hope you can rejoice in the selflessness of those who live their lives in service to others.  And I hope you can hear your own parents’ wisdom as they encouraged you to elevate your own life and those of your children. Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.