Scenes from a Wood-Paneled Conference Room
Today, my students and I discussed branding, the difference between public and private space, the shrinking of the former, and if and why we care about that, how capitalism can sometimes look like pre 1989 Romania a la an Andre Codrescu piece we read last week and an anecdote about Walmart censorship in No Logo which we read half of this week. (Those of you following along at home, feel free to get yourself a copy and read to the end for next week.) Summary: my students are jaded cynics who don't believe in social mobility and would rather buy something expensive than something of equal quality but a lower price because "it just doesn't feel the same." Sorry, Stephon, my students and Cole's students all think your shoes are doomed.
Thoughts on the Film Linked Below
It isn't news to me that Black girls have this awful time with beauty standards in the U.S. Heck, every girl has a hard time with beauty standards in the U.S. And Black girls have a worse time, because even if they became anorexically thin, like the models on the billboards, they are still not white, with long, straight hair, like the models on the billboards. And I worry about all aspects of that frequently. I worry about the anorexically thin part and the skin and hair part and I worry about the sexualization of Black women--particularly darker-skinned Black women--in the media and in U.S cultural history and I worry, worry, worry that my daughter--the most beautiful person I've ever met--will fail to fully know just how beautiful she truly is. I know, I know, it's the inner person that matters. But whatever. Nat is beautiful both inside and outside. She just is.
We spend quite a bit of time telling her she's beautiful. I call her "Pretty Girl" or "Beautiful Girl" constantly. I gush about the beauty of her hair while I comb it, however squirmy and unappreciative she might be. And when her hair is finished, we make a special trip to the mirror to go and admire it. "Pretty girl, with pretty brown cheeks and a pretty brown chin and pretty brown eyes and beautiful curly hair" I croon. And she admires herself with real appreciation, almost flirting with her image.
It is certainly not something I would do with a white daughter. I really wouldn't. I would probably not comment on appearance much at all. And with Nat, we do also praise her for being smart, strong, patient, trying hard, practicing, learning, sharing, etc. When she was a baby, I used to sing-song to her "pretty girl, smart girl, sweet girl, big, strong, girl!" and she would break into a huge grin when she heard it.
But I worry about the beauty thing and race. The doll test in the film below is really sad, as many of you pointed out. Clearly school desegregation really had little to do with Black children's view of themselves. But you know what's sadder? I have a heck of a time finding a doll the color of Nat in the first place. I know doll plastic isn't exactly the greatest match for skin in any shade, but the "black" dolls are all several shades lighter than my girl. To me, they look tanned versions of the white dolls. If I tried to say, "the doll has skin like Nat's!" I doubt she'd see the resemblance. And many of the black dolls have curly, but still relaxed hair, compared to Nat's.
As if a doll could solve this problem for my baby. I know that's ridiculous and oversimple. But it is just another example of how the popular culture doesn't value my daughter unless they need a token for a Bennetton or a Baby Gap ad. And I worry that the culture will be more influential than a mother--especially one who has white skin and long, straight hair herself--complimenting her daughter's beauty.
Pregnancy After Infertility: Sensitive Content about Someone's Good News
I have been waiting on pins and needles to tell you that my BFF, who "failed" her second IVF about a year ago, gave up and decided to wait until she was more financially and geographically stable and adopt from China (ironically, she couldn't do it now, under the new regulations), called me in a hotel room while traveling to my in-laws' for the holidays to announce that she just peed on a stick and it was distinctly positive. They weren't trying. It just happened.
This didn't by the way, happen because they decided to adopt. Nor did it happen because they "quit worrying about it and relaxed." Do you have any idea how stressed out some fertile people are? It happened, because when she was doing IVF and responding pretty poorly, she found that only about 1 in 4 or 5 of her eggs was any good. So it took her about 4 or 5 times as long to get pregnant as it might have otherwise. She's had an early ultrasound and all looks great. She says the embryo has officially graduated to fetus and so now I am telling you.
I am so happy for her! And for me, because I get to be an aunt! And I get to be moms together with her!
Now, everyone whisper a prayer, knock wood, or cross your fingers.
P.S.
Oh, and what's your favorite book on toddler adoption?
P.P.S.
I missed the whole blogging for choice thing, but I am pro-choice, because the alternative is the government forcing women to carry and bear children against their will. And that scares me more than abortion, however sad abortion might be.
