I don't want to talk about the things that affect me or hurt me for others to say things like I'm so sorry you're going through this or you are so inspirational to me. When I speak about the hard topics I speak about them in hopes to provoke change. To provoke a new way of thinking and a new approach that will not only benefit me but benefit those around me also affected by the hard topics. I am not looking for sympathy. I'm not looking for a hand out. I am simply telling it as it is. I've heard things like what do you expect, you decided to subject yourself to discrimination by living in boonie town. Well my response to that is this; I have experienced discrimination in boney town and in very diverse populations. It makes no difference where I live, the discrimination will always be there because my skin will always be brown. I have had coffee thrown at me while being told go back to where you came from while driving in Toronto, Ontario, a very diverse area and plenty of people of color. I have had someone stop their car, come out just to throw racial slurs at me out of the blue, me just minding my own business, oblivious of this attack. I have been told I was: a coon, a monkey, a nigger, a drug addict, all in a very culturally populated area. I have had smoke blown into my face while standing in a bus shelter and told that the welfare system is corrupted because of people like me and the other niggers who don't pay taxes (Wasn't even on the system and paid my taxes). I chose not to have my children be subjected to racial slurs and tensions by removing myself from this area. The incidents happened more frequent than I could wrap my head around them. I wanted my children to have the same or similar advantages of the average Canadian child. Not the average black child but the average Canadian child. So I moved to the boonies. In the boonies my kids have been able to utilize the extras the inner city schools won't get, like a decent education, access to music, sports, technology that they wouldn't otherwise had gotten in an inner city environment. I raised my kids to be the best them they can be, not to be the best black kid they can be. Race has been such a big issue lately that it causes some uproar of conversations at my dinner table. It causes tension within my own household because of the varying responses towards it. I have been silent for a long time while I mend the hurt feelings of my kids from being told they couldn't possibly have done an A plus job on an assignment because people of your color cannot possibly have the understanding to complete such complex things. I have had to simmer rage between siblings who have varying views on how a racial incident should be addressed. The unequal treatment of black males verse black females. I have had to deal with unresolved feelings from my children when called niggers, monkeys or pretty for a black girl. My kids have triggered this post because I have always said I will protect my children no matter what and help them be the best they can be. I write this with feelings of disservice to my children for not teaching them how to be black while growing up. My eldest said to me that she was happy to not be taught to be different because it allowed her to see herself for who she is and what she is capable of rather than a black girl plus whatever the title is that may be added. She believes that because she is able to see herself for her and not limited by her skin she is able to fight through the labels and barricades that society tries to place on her. My children are thriving despite the racial attacks whether passively or aggressively thrown their way. Why do I write this then some may ask. I write this because the first insult/swear words that my youngest has ever dealt with is being told she's a nigger. I write this because instead of the typical conversation of counseling my child on why people say hurtful things I have to add racism to the hurtful things. I write this because my kids cannot go anywhere without me knowing where they are for fear that them being late or unaccounted for could mean they were lynched or arrested (yes I worry about that in Canada). I write this because they fight. We fight for everything and or paths are constantly blocked. I feel defeated most days. I don't know how many different ways I have tried to be of comfort to my kids through everything they go through. I feel broken most days but I still have to build them up. I don't know how to continue to do this for them, my heart is hurting and I feel broken. When I advocate for my kids or I expect policies to be followed, our human rights to be granted, I have been told you're asking the right questions and these are the questions that needs to be answered. So who is going to answer the questions that mothers and fathers of color have about the injustice they experience and now their children experience. How can we stop talking about change and actually change something. Report and statistics will not change the emotional damage racism has on our entire society. This is not a black problem this is an everyone problem. I'm going to just end this by quoting one of my favorite quotes: "Be the change you want to see in the world".
We know Reiki may not be the first treatment that comes to mind for your colic infant. As a parent, maybe you've heard of this powerful ancient branch of energy medicine during prenatal yoga, on social media, or over dinner with your spiritual friend. And maybe you think it's a stretch to seek a Reiki practitioner to help heal your baby's uncontrollable colic crying. Think about it like this: if you’re part of the 1 in 10 adults who integrate complementary alternative medicine (CAM) into your own life through yoga, acupuncture, or meditation, why not look into a remedy that will treat the underlying imbalances of your baby’s colic condition, not just the symptom? Why not treat their stress like you’d treat your own?
I can’t quite believe that just over a year ago I became a mum for the first time. It is a truly amazing experience that nothing quite prepares you for. The amazing highs and shocking lows are all part and parcel of the parenting journey. Some days can be a challenge and others a complete enjoyment which makes you wonder how you thought it was challenging.
I stood there, crying — no. Sobbing, hysterically into my brother's chest. I'm 23 years old, and I stood barefoot in my front yard hyperventilating, shaking, trying to catch my breath.
Mesmerized, wide eyed, with all of the curiosity and fear of an eight-year-old boy, lying on my belly, propping my head up with my left hand, slowly, achingly moving the right one forward just a hair above the tall natural fescue. The heat of the afternoon sun, high in the cloudless sky was warming me through my bones. Controlling my breath, smelling the purity of the dirt and the fresh moisture of the grass, my eyes were polarized, unblinking, not wanting to squander my chance to catch the biggest grasshopper I had ever seen. I was happy in his solitude, this quiet peaceful place, no one could ruin the moment for me.
You didn't know me, and I didn't know you. We were merely strangers that shared DNA. The saying blood runs deep is both true and yet, a lie. You see, I will never live without you, even though I did live without you. I will never forget you, though from day to day, you were like a whisper rather than an actual presence in my life.
Have you ever seen anyone that was so stressed out that they changed, including yourself? As I remember as being a young girl and helping my mom watch my younger brothers, I have seen it a lot in my family and friends to identify it. To see anyone you love go through harsh times is not fun to see nor tempting to bring out of the blue, mostly being at the age of four. Looking back, I had been affected and now look at me, my emotions take control of me more than it should.
Parenting is the process of promoting and supporting the physical, emotional, social, financial, and intellectual development of a child from infancy to adulthood. When people think of parenting, they picture changing diapers, messy feeding times, chasing them around a grocery store, little league, back to school shopping, or paying for school lunches.