On my soap box...can't help it

Lately my mind is just in high gear. I can’t stop thinking and each time I think an important thought, or have an “aha” moment, I remember that I must blog about it and put it down. Last nite I said to Joe that I really feel empowered. I feel everyday that with everything I am doing and thinking I am advocating for my child. I never realized I would be one of those over-active mothers, involved in trying to save the world for their child. I mean, I know that I’ll be a good and loving mother, but there is a fire in me right now. I just want to make sure that everything is as good as it can be for this little girl, this innocent baby who will need me to fight for her and raise the bar on my life like never before. I mean she isn’t even with me yet. She quite possibly isn’t even alive yet. But something inside of me just wants to knock one out of the ball park for her.

I started thinking about the whole world of racial identity. It’s obviously a hot topic right now with the whole Imus debacle. Keep in mind I work in the media and have mixed feelings about freedom of speech issues, etc. I think certain things are funny, and in a sense when certain personalities say things, we are basically just making fun of ourselves and the stupidity of stereotypes. But then I sit back and think as a mother. I cringe now when I hear certain jokes about Chinese people. Someone at work was imitating a Chinese accent. I was insulted. Where did this come from? Why am I so on edge about this? My daughter and I will be of different racial backgrounds. To the stranger looking at us the first thought they will always have is that this child is Chinese. That will always be the first thought they have of her. If they happen to be Chinese, White, Black, and Hispanic,-they will see her with me and first thought, she must be adopted. This will always cross people’s minds. It will be a reality that we will always have to live with. Who knows what her classmates will say. Will they make fun of her and her family or be supportive? . My job now is to make sure she never feels different. Let her know that she is loved by me as deeply and as passionately as she would be if she looked exactly like me. Let her know that she is an incredible person who can do and be whatever it is she wants to.

Looking back on my life I can honestly say there were times that I felt different. For whatever reasons, I felt like I didn’t fit in or that I was somehow very different then the others around me. There was also a time when most of the people around me were of different ethnicities and races. That time in my life was fantastic in the sense that it truly helped me try to live my life in a “different skin”. I realized how lucky I was to be able to have people judge me for me, and not for the color of my skin. This story sticks out for me- I was sitting in a business meeting with a group of African American women. The leader of the meeting, a good friend at the time, started the meeting and said, “Welcome my sisters. She went on to talk about the particular project we were working on and then made a comment that as “black women it’s important that we all come together on this” (or something like to that effect). Then she stopped, and laughed, and looked at me and said, “g-d Wendi, I keep forgetting you are white. You are just Wendi, my sister.” She saw me for me at that moment. I had made an impression on her and I was just Wendi. I want the world to see my daughter for everything that she is. Not how she is on the outside, and how different the rest of her family look….but for the whole package. This is what I will fight for. This is what will make me cry. This is what will help me make a difference in this world.