See what I mean?

In light of my recent post about implicit bias, here's one striking example of totally overt racism--it makes me sick to my stomach. I think some of my friends were surprised by some of the comments I personally received regarding the adoption, but clearly racism is out there and kicking. I post here, not to give this guy more press, but rather to give people a chance to respond, in a polite, appropriate way, to the baker himself and to spread the word to like minded people in New York to boycott this guy's bakery. The text below is from a posting on my adoption forum, but here are some other links, some with pictures, which I refuse to post:

National Post Article

Racismreview.com

Huffingtonpostarticle

Drunken Negro Cookies: New York Baker's Offensive Obama Tribute


Lafayette French Bakery, a pastry shop in New York's Greenwich Village, started selling "Drunken Negro Face" cookies on Martin Luther King Day in 'honor' of President Obama.

One customer told My Fox NY that store owner Ted Kefalinos said to her, "Would you like some drunken negro heads to go with your coffee? They're in honor of our new president. He's following in the same path of Abraham Lincoln; he will get his."

Kefalinos spoke with Gothamist, and denied suggesting that Obama would be assassinated. However, he saw nothing wrong with the cookies themselves.

Later, he apologized to the New York Daily News.

"I'm sorry that people were offended by the cookie. We were just trying to make a large number of people happy, and instead we made a large number of people confused and angry."

In a followup interview with My Fox NY, Kefalinos said he had been getting death threats over the cookies.

link: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/01/26/drunken-negros-cookies-ne_n_161073.html


Here is their info if anyone is interested in contacting them.
Lafayette French Pastry Bakers Inc
26 Greenwich Ave
New York, NY 10011
(212) 242-7580

Creepy Mom?

Ok, so we are putting together photos to send to the newbie in Ethiopia. Apparently since the birth of the girls, I have not taken a solo photo, nor have Dan and I taken them together. We do have some nice family photos, though, thanks to the nutty family photographer, Frank. I was messing around with my camera in my computer at work, and took some photos. Please take a look and let me know if you like any of them, 1, 2 or 3, or whether or not I look so creepy/weird/crazy, I should just give up and try again at home. It's hard to do a non-creepy fake smile! I'm going to crop out some of the work-y background if I end up using any of them. You won't hurt my feelings!

Saturday, and bribes.......

The morning started like this at about 7 a.m. Dan doing some work on the 'puter and Doodle, well, playing on the 'puter, too.

And then it was off to freezer ass, er, I mean parent-tot ice skate. Actually, there was a haircut for Moo in there, too, but I digress. So we went to skating and all was well. Last week was particularly difficult for Doodle, with lots of falls. She cried, but eventually put her chin up and made it through the entire class. I bribed her with a pretzel from the concession stand and a trip to Narbucks, rhymes with, well, you know, afterwards. I felt a little bad about it, I wanted her to end on a high note.... and, let's face it, I was freezing and my rear was on fire, so the guilt was short lived.

Today was incredible, no falls for either of us. I chatted it up with hockey skate dad today, who likes to show off by stopping suddenly and spraying up the ice and skating backwards. His daughter has made a complete turn around. She's stopped the crying and ditched the red walker thing. I was telling him that last week was bad, and that I bribed Doodle with the junk food and complimented him on his daughter's miraculous progress. He confessed that his daughter hated the first class so much, she didn't want to return. His solution? He bribed his daughter with a trip to toy store (the one with the giraffe) if she would go to class and try to skate without the red walker thing. He says he took her to the store and let her pick out whatever she wanted, no matter the cost! After each class she attends, she gets to go again and pick out a new toy. I refrained from asking him what these skating lessons have cost him, but I'm dying to know. Or maybe, not. The way I see it, we're learning to skate for the pure joy and accomplishment of it. Today, we even forwent the hot cocoa and split the pretzel. By the end, we will be one with the ice and will have achieved total consciousness, so we have that going for us, which is nice. (Any Caddyshack fans out there? No?)

We're gearing up for a movie night, so I'm going to go. I'll try and remember to take some pics of Moo's new do.

Implicit bias

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised when someone in a conversation tells a joke or utters a discriminatory word or make a subtle dig. But I am, and always end up feeling a little hurt and angry. Hurt, because I tend to take things personally and usually I know the person speaking pretty well and angry, because, well, it's wrong, and even if you don't get that it's wrong, you should understand when to engage your inner filter and keep your mouth shut. And failing ALL that....even if you don't know that one of my family members is gay (and some good friends), and even if you don't know that we are adopting from Ethiopia, and even if you don't know that I am a feminist, and even if you don't know that my stepmother is black, and even if you don't know that my best friend in the whole world is brown, you should know that diversity is a part of my JOB! Have you not wondered why I am always the one making corrections and gentle reminders?

Anyway, here are a few of my favorite examples:

"Why a black baby?" Gee, we wanted a purple one, but they were fresh out.

"The baby's mother has at least 5 other children, right?" I love this one, especially since I have not shared the birth story with this person (not with other people, either).

"And then, there was a BLACK MAN in my apartment." Gee, not an intruder, not even a thief, but we had to specify a Black man?

"How old are your real daughters?" Hmm, as opposed to the fake one we're adopting?

"I would be afraid if I went there I would be the only white person."

"You are just being too sensitive. When the baby comes home, she'll just be American."

I've leaving out the over-the-top really offensive ones. There are also many more subtle examples but frankly, it takes too long to describe the conversations and the context to be worth it.

I despair of these conversations. I often hear how I'm being too sensitive, that the person didn't mean it that way, that I can't expect people to know better, it was just how they were brought up, etc. I am sick of it. Even though I speak up, I don't feel like I am making a difference.

I once spent 45 minutes trying to explain to a woman why we could refer to rugs and lamps as oriental, but it was offensive to refer to people as oriental. When someone has no global perspective, and is resistant to change, it's pretty difficult.

It is not to say that I am free of bias. I'm not. I'm working on it, but I'm not perfect. For example, I sometimes assume when I see a mother and child of different ethnicities, that the child is adopted. I know it is not right, I know there are interracial couples out there and count some as my friends, but it is often my first thought: "I wonder if that child is adopted." Part of my background, being in the process of adoption and being friends with far more adoptive parents than interracial couples, informs my bias. I suppose that it's better than assuming the caregiver is a nanny, etc., but it's still a bias. And I'm aware and I'm working on it. And I usually keep my mouth shut. And if I f* it up, I'm sure people like my friend Julie will call me out on it.

I don't want to be a total downer, so I'm proposing a little fun here. The folks at Harvard have developed a computer exercise, a sort of nerdy game, if you will, to help you determine your implicit, hidden biases. The have political, gender, racial, and other tests you can take. Click here to take the tests. I suggest you take them with your significant other or your friends and compare notes.

Preliminary results from these tests are fascinating, but not surprising. They show, for example, that white people overwhelmingly have a pro-white or anti-black bias but also that significant numbers of black people have a pro-white or anti-black bias. Click here for some articles about the project and its results.

Also, if any of the 10 of you who actually read the blog are brave enough to share about your test experience, I'd love to see comments.

Yea Federal Government!

Last week we witnessed two stunning feats of governmental efficiency-- we received our new passports in less than two weeks and received the approval of our fingerprints (the second set, mind you) for the adoption in a mere 4 business days. I know those of you who have never done an adoption paperchase may not fully appreciate how incredibly rare and awesome this is, but if you would imagine going to the DMV once or twice a month on the busiest day, but never getting to the front of the line, on a day when the air conditioning is not working and it's 95 degrees out and you didn't bring a pen or pencil and you can't find one anywhere, and when you get to the front of the line you have forgotten an incredibly important piece of paper that you didn't know you had to bring ...... that's a little bit what it feels like. Actually, it's worse, but I don't want to scare away any potential adoptive parents.

So I'm not sure if it's because the economy is in the toilet and they fear for their jobs, or all of the federal employees have Obama-mania but whatever the reason, I am grateful for these small favors. Yea Federal Government Employees! Yes you can! Process those passports! Check those fingerprints! We even got a nice letter with our fingerprint approval congratulating us on the adoption, with a form that we could have used the first time around--figures, we had to hunt for that one for a while.

I do wonder though, if the quick turn around times were due to our scrupulous adherence to the rules? Can you just imagine the passport processor weeping as he processed our application, "They used the black ink, just like I asked them, and they STAPLED their photos to the application, and LOOK, they wrote checks in the correct amount! I love these people, kiss kiss! They go to the front of the line!" It could happen. I'll bet that fine print about the black ink gets a lot of folks.

Now we have a tentative court date in Ethiopia, March 25th, but our agency tells us that the judges on that day may not get through all of their cases, or may not even hear any of the scheduled cases that day. So let's all send some of that governmental employee mojo to Ethiopia. 'Cause we can't travel until we are through Ethiopian court, and we want to pick up the newbie as soon as we can!

Parent/Tot Ice Skating Lessons -- Dorothy Hamill, I am not

The Doodle has been bugging me for a while to take ice skating lessons. I waited as long as I could, and she still seemed interested, so I frantically signed us up this week. See, since I waited until the last session of ice skating, a week after the session started, our only option was a parent/tot class. I tried to guilt Dan into it, but he wouldn't budge. At one point in time I could skate reasonably well, but that was at least 13 years ago.

We show up to the class and Doodle is one of two kids in a helmet (Thank you, Kim!). Hey, the kid knocked out a front tooth twice, once after tripping on her own feet--I wasn't going to take any chances. I had rented skates; the other parents in the class, all of them, had their OWN. Great. Even the lone Dad on ice had on a well-loved pair of hockey skates.

Doodle was a natural, she didn't even use one of those red walker things that look like supports for aging gnomes. I was the first wipeout of the class, even before the kiddos. All in all, it was fun, even though my ankles were on fire.

She was a trooper, fell a few times, but never cried, just got back up. Much better than two of her classmates, who pretty much cried the whole time. Don't look over there Doodle. See, ice skating is FUN! Take that professional skater parents--your genes did not translate!

Doodle really started to get the hang of it. Me, not so much. At one point the instructor told her that she would be better off NOT holding on to my hand. That's how bad I was.

I'm determined not to make an a** out of my self next week, so watch out! I might be coming to an open skate near you! I might even borrow Doodle's helmet.

Dear elliptical machine in the basement.....

We've been together for 2.5 years now. You were good to me when I couldn't huff my way through level 1 for ten minutes. You were there for the after-work and the weekend workouts. But, we've grown apart. First it was the exercising outside. Now, I have to come clean. I've been cheating on you with a newer model at the work gym. There. I said it. He's more aerodynamic, and has all the newest bells and whistles. His level 7 resistance is just as good as your level 3. Couldn't you have just had more levels to make me feel better? Must you mock me with your 3s and 4s while I sweat in agony? And his incline, it's awesome. My a** is killing me, but I think it is working.

I know that I've been ignoring both of you these last holiday weeks, and don't think I haven't noticed your disapproving glances as I availed myself of the cheese tray. I was so looking forward to our reunion last night but you disappointed me. See, someone had removed my favorite trashy celeb magazine from the screen, and I could see your taunting. "Keep up the good work." "Burn those calories!" "Increase the pace!" "You can do it."

Just so you know, the machine at the gym is the strong, silent type. I may be visiting him more often. My friend Julie had a breakup with her treadmill and I don't think that will work for us... maybe we can ALL be together? A workout threesome if you will? Think about it.

And just so you readers out there don't think I am this super workout/buff personal trainer type, here's a transcript of last night's workout. Dan was working late, so it was me and the girls.

10 minutes in: "Mom, can we do dance party?" "Yeah, can we?" "pant pant pant ok let me pause it." I then pause the machine, chug some water, go over to the stereo, put my ipod on the speakers and blast it.

Lots of frantic dancing to 'Play that funky music white boy.'

20 minutes in: "pant pant please pant stop playing with Mommy's exercise pant ball."

21 minutes in: "pant do not play pant pant with the weights."

22 minutes in: "pant do not touch pant the exercise ball pant or naughty chair."

22.5 minutes in: Girls inexplicably remove their leggings, keep dancing and start fighting over the exercise ball.

23 minutes in: "naughty chair pant both of you pant on the stairs pant pant five minutes"

24 minutes in: "Moo pant do not pant play with the pant stuffed snowman pant no toys pant in naughty chair." Sweat wiping, momentary pause on doing the arms with the feet, reduction in resistance.

28 minutes in: "pant ok out of the naughty chair pant pant say you are sorry and hugs pant" "Do we have to kiss?" "Yes." "Ewwww, she kissed me on the lips." "Pant do you want pant go in the naughty chair pant again?"

33 minutes in: "I hate this song." "ok, pant change it." Kung fu fighting basts. "Yea! I love this!!!" Now we have dancing and fake kicking going on, with some kung fu noises for effect.

35 minutes in: "Do pant NOT pant KICK pant your sister! Pretend pant kicking"

36 minutes in: Doodle loves Justin Timberlake and turns up the volume.

37 minutes in: More fighting. Unclear what the cause is. Moo runs upstairs.

37.5 minutes in: "pant Doodle go see if Moo pant is crying."

38 minutes in:"She's fine Mom, she had to go potty. But she won't share her juice. Please Mommy can I have some juice?" Now there is violent fighting over the juice. I lose it. "ok, pant I need 6 more minutes people. Then pant juice. Pant pant you are pissing pant me pant off here. 6 MINUTES pant. PLEASE!! Pant, wiping sweat, Mommy needs six more minutes. Please (begging this time).

38-45 minutes: The gravity song from Wicked. Over and over and over. At least they were quiet and not beating each other.

Dan: "Hi hon, how was your workout?"

Edited to add: This post has taught me the following:
1. Aha! That is why Dan goes running by himself
2. I'm a wimp. Check out Julie's blog. I could never subject myself to the abuse by the Wii that she and others in her comments are enduring.
3. I have bizarro taste in workout music.