Alternative Lifestyle

Benee23 Comments

My name is Benee and I’m a “Freak Mama”.

(Hi Benee!!!)

What do I mean by this?

Well a few posts back, Tanji wrote about sex after marriage and children and a few people chimed in with their responses about how often and such. I reread that and realized I stuck out a bit. I’m not embarassed, but it makes me chuckle.

No marriage or kid is going to get in the way of a Freak Mama!! LOL

Two interesting facts about me and my sexual identification: I’m bisexual and I’m into BDSM. Yes, I know, you didn’t want to know that much about me. But it is relevant to the issue at hand.

You read Cocoa Mamas, right? So you know I’m going through a divorce and that I’m currently single and dating. You also know that I’ve realized that on the other side of 30 and marriage, I’m far more selective about people I engage with on that level. This is a nice way of saying: Mama aint getting none!! (ok, not “none” but I’ve never been this scarce is my entire adult life!)

So as a single woman, co-parenting a son with the man I’m divorcing, I’m finding my needs are not being as met as I’d like them to be, so sex is almost always on my mind. What’s been on my mind moreso lately is how far I’m willing to go to raise my son to be as open and liberal as I am about sexuality. I’m one of those people who has extremely liberal beliefs about sexuality, orientation, identity, preference, etc. I’m a couch activist for LGBTQ awareness/issues. I’m involved in a BDSM/Kink community on and offline. I believe that these are parts of me that are quite important.

So how do I raise my son with an understanding and appreciation for my liberal ways? Does his being a boy, a Black boy at that, pose any limitations, as Black men are notorious for being conservative about alternative sexuality issues? Will my liberal upbringing have a negative impact or influence him in ways that might hurt him down the line? Is it OK to take him to a LGBTQ Pride Parade when he gets over his fear of crowds? Do I introduce him to women I would date as I would men (after whatever time period)?

What about my kink side? Is it ok for him to see me wearing a collar, for example, if I become collared by a Dominant? Is it ok to see me kneeled down next to a Dominant while that Dominant eats his dinner? Do kinky mothers have to set limits on their outward behaviors around their children? Would that be like hiding though?  He’s already discovered my “Special toy” and has even gone in my drawer and brought it to me, offering it and saying “Here Mommy, you need to relax…” o_O What if he discovers my whips, floggers, collars, plugs, clamps, canes, well, you get the picture. The “What’s that?” question is bound to come.

How far is too far? How much is too much?

As a mother, should I be expected to slow down with my “alternative” sexual activity? Am I setting a bad example? I know married folks have sex with their kids in other rooms, but what if I bring someone over and I’m engaging in some kinky BDSM scene and I’m screaming? I might scare my son!! He gonna think dude is trying to kill me!! LOL

What are your thoughts??

A Weighty Issue

carolynedgar6 Comments

I took my kids to the pediatrician for their back-to-school checkups recently.  Health-wise, both kids checked out just fine.

But as is the case every year, my kids’ doctor pulled me to the side to mention my daughter’s weight.

“She’s gained 12 pounds,” her pediatrician mentioned in a whisper.  She showed me the height/weight charts for her age, showing her weight hovering slightly above the top line for her age group.  Oh, she said in passing, she also grew an inch.

I did my best not to Kanye shrug.  “Did she mention to you that she’s doing yoga?”  I asked.

“Yes,” the doctor said, then gave me the name of a nutritionist.  She also ordered some blood work to check my daughter’s blood sugar/insulin and cholesterol levels, among other things.

Everything came back normal, as it always does.

My daughter is a muscular girl.  She always has been.  She is as strong as an ox.  I outweigh her by a good thirty pounds, and she picks me up like it’s nothing.

She doesn’t play any sports now, but was heavily into gymnastics for about four years.  She has tried every sport from soccer to softball.  She swims, ice skates and bikes.  Last year, at 12, she did adult aerial acrobatics classes.  This year, she is taking adult yoga classes with me.

And did I mention she’s a size 6?  Hardly a size worn by the clinically obese.

Yet, ever since she was a baby, doctors have plotted her weight on a graph and told me, in hushed tones, that her weight was in the upper percentiles for children her age. 

Her plots on the height/weight graphs have remained remarkably consistent since birth.  She’s of average height and above-average weight, according to the “official” weight charts. 

For some reason I can’t fathom, her doctors have equated “above average” with “abnormal” and “weight problem.”  This infuriates me.  Humans come in a range of shapes and sizes, heights and weights.  The fact that my daughter’s weight has plotted consistently on the height/weight graphs since birth strongly indicates that this is just how she’s built, period. 

I always feel like there’s some implicit indictment of my parenting involved in these discussions.  Every year, the doctor grills me about what the kids eat.  “Do they drink soda and processed juice?  Do they drink milk?  Do they eat vegetables?  Do they eat fried foods or fast food?  Do they eat sweets and candy?”

My answers always seem to surprise her.  The kids get soda only when we go out to eat at restaurants.  The only juice I buy is orange juice, which they drink mixed with seltzer.  My daughter drinks fat-free milk, and my son prefers rice milk.  They love vegetables, especially spinach.  Fried foods are rare, and they mostly can’t stand fast food.  You’d have to force-feed them McDonald’s, which they’d promptly regurgitate.

The doctor always looks at me like she doesn’t quite trust these answers, even when the kids give consistent responses.  For many years, I was also overweight.  In these questions, I saw the assumption that here we were, this fat black family, greasing it up on Popeye’s and ribs and fries with nary a veggie in sight. 

Except the kids weren’t, and still aren’t, fat.   The reality that we have a healthy diet, that we generally don’t eat “soul food,” and that my kids are quite physically active, doesn’t jibe with the chronic-obesity-in-the-black-community stereotype.

This year, it annoyed me a bit that my daughter’s doctor hasn’t seemed to notice my own fairly dramatic weight loss.  Hey, I wanted to shout, I’ve dropped close to 70 pounds in the last two years.  Can you stop looking at us as a bunch of fat black folks now?

Apparently not.

Before we left the doctor’s office, I told my daughter, as I do every year, not to worry about the doctor’s comments about her weight and to just keep doing what she’s been doing.  

I said to her, “I know how and what you eat.  You have a very healthy diet.  You eat very little junk food, and only as an occasional treat.  You work out.  Whatever your weight, you haven’t gone up in size at all in the last two years.  Don’t worry about what they’re saying.”

I am trying to raise a teen black girl with a healthy body image.  If my daughter were in fact in danger of having a real weight problem, I would be on the case.  I struggled with my own weight for most of my life, and I feel like I have finally figured out how to maintain control.  If I were concerned about her weight, I would be working with her to count her calories, to honestly assess her food intake, and to balance it against her activity level.  She would be drinking more water and getting more daily exercise.

She’s already doing all of that.  My own weight loss efforts have provided her with good examples of how to lose weight and keep it off the right way.  Her body type is what it is.   The last thing she needs is to become insecure and anorexic because she’s not tall and thin.  She will never be tall and thin.  And that’s OK.

As long as she remains within her own range of normal, I’m not worried about her weight.  In my opinion, as long as that remains the case, her doctors shouldn’t be worried, either.

Back In The Day…

Dr. Mama Esq.2 Comments

Back in the day/When I was young/I’m not a kid anymore/But some days/ I sit and wish I was a kid again…

– The Pharcyde

We started this blog back in January, and already it is nominated to be the best parenting and family blog in the black blogosphere! Your support got us nominated, and only you, dear reader, can make us the winner. Please take the next 30 seconds to click on the Black Weblog Award button to the right and vote for CocoaMamas in the best parenting/family category (it’s on page 3 of 6). Don’t forget to go all the way to page 6, and click submit so your vote is counted.

We are so grateful for all of you who read us each week. We are committed to continuing to provide interesting and provocative content that speaks to Cocoa motherhood and Cocoa parenting. In keeping with community spirit we nurtured over the past 8 months, we are soliciting your feedback. Please use the comments below to talk to us. What do you like about CocoaMamas? What topics did you enjoy? What topics would you like to see us cover in the future? What could we be doing better?

We can’t wait to hear from you.

CocoaMama Love,

LaToya

Private Parts

Dr. Mama Esq.20 Comments

“Billy, what are you doing?” She says this to her son as he gets dressed in the morning. His four-year-old body is naked, but instead of putting on the clothes right next to him on the couch, he is instead enthralled with that extra-special body part that it seems all little boys are enthralled with – his penis.

Again she asks, “Billy, what are you doing?” She’s trying to be patient, but this is a daily occurrence, and she’s getting tired of it. She’s trying to bring it to his attention instead of saying something directly to him. “Billy!” He finally lifts his head, looking at her with a questioning, and frankly annoyed, expression. “Yes, mama?”

“What are you doing? Didn’t we talk about only touching your penis when you are alone, in your room? Don’t you remember that your penis is private?” Silence. “Well, do you remember?”

Billy gives a long sigh. “Yes, I remember.” He turns and begins to put on his clothes in his particular way, inspecting each item to make sure the sizes are correct (only 4 or 4T) and the tags are in the back. As he works, he speaks: “But when I’m in my room, I can touch my penis, right mama? I can do it then, right mama?”

“Yes, Billy. Now please finish getting dressed.” She tells his three-year-old sister, Bonnie, who has been dressed for hours, to sit on the potty. As Bonnie does so, she joins in the chorus. “Billy can touch his penis in his room, right mama? And mama? I have a vagina like you, right mama? And I can touch my vagina in my room, right? Mama? MAMA!”

She starts to feel a little dizzy in all this talk of penises and vaginas. She knows it was a good idea to teach them the real names of their parts, to not make the words or their actions negative or taboo, to supplement that talk with the notion of privacy, to let them know that no one was to touch their private parts but themselves, mommy and daddy, and the doctor, and even then, only with permission. But she can’t shake…

“Come on in here and let me see. I’m your auntie, just like your mother. You can show me.” She didn’t want to show Aunt Mo. She didn’t want to show Aunt Mo the breasts that were just beginning to appear, she didn’t understand why she had to. Her auntie made her take off the blouse she was wearing, the training bra too, and her auntie touched her chest, feeling the new growths. Her hand traveled downward. For the second time in her young life, she felt like not just her body was naked, but her soul too.

“Yes, children, you can touch your private parts, your penis and your vagina, when you are in your rooms, by yourselves. But remember, no one else is to touch your penis or your vagina, you understand? Not mommy or daddy or anyone, unless you say it’s okay. And no one should even be asking to touch you unless mommy or daddy is there, like when we go to the doctor, you understand? And if someone does, you yell and say NO as loud as you can, you hear me? And you come and tell mommy or daddy, okay?”

What kind of talks do you have with your children about their penises and vaginas?

First Day of School Blues…

Salina19 Comments

Feeling like the 1950’s up in this house.

My son attends a predominantly White and Asian school here in our city.

No Black teachers or administrators.

He’s often one of the few or only Black students in his class.

As I sit listening to my thoughts, writing the first day of school speech I will deliver on Sunday night; I’m wondering….

Why, in 2010, am I compelled to remind him that he represents his entire race, you know, that whole ‘fictive kinship’?  I mean we DO have a Black president…

Why, in 2010, will I emphasize the importance of him sitting in the front of the class, close to the teacher, to demonstrate that he is there to learn? Why else would he be, right?

Why, in 2010, am I going to explain that he is to walk with his head high, look his peers and teachers directly in their eyes, and let them KNOW: he is a strong Afrikan male, not some boot licking negro. And yes, I will use those EXACT words.

Yes, even in 2010, I will revisit the type of backhanded compliments and examples of racial micro-aggressions that he might hear from his classmates and instructors. I’ll go so far as to role-play and challenge him to think about how to respond.

I know.

It’s a bit much, isn’t it?

Still, here, in 2010, I will drill him on the type of racial stereotypes that cling to his body like masking tape, influencing how everyone sees and responds to him.

You’ve got to work harder.

You’ve got to be the best.

They expect you to fail.

Be the most polite.

But don’t let anybody push you around.

And then there’s my spiel on staying “down” with his folk who aren’t as privileged as he is.  I don’t care if other folk want you to believe you’re “different”, you’re not. “Your loyalty and allegiance”, I will say,  “is with your folk who are marginalized, pushed into the lowest tracked classes, not with those who tell you that you’re special.”

I can already anticipate the anxiety my speech will imbue.

I wonder if maybe this once, I should hold my racially charged diatribe…

Maybe this once, it will be enough to say: HAVE A GREAT DAY! DO YOUR BEST!

But I can’t.

Maybe next year.

@work mom

Tanji6 Comments

In the midst of what will probably always be the most “successful” year of my life, I faced  completely debilitating “defeats.” After recently having been offered two challenging responsibilities at my job, English Department Chair and Founding Director of the Duke Ellington School of the Arts Film Program, I fell ill in the first and second trimester of my pregnancy. I was out for a total of five weeks only; however, it was the hardest five weeks of my life. I could not eat, was confined to my couch, I vomited nearly non-stop and lost thirty pounds. My home-I.V. would repeatedly fall out my arm, followed by a visit from a nurse, who would fight to find another vein, and the cycle would repeat ad nauseam.

After having been promised by our school administration that the newly appointed Academic Dean would provide coverage for teachers, the lazy, pompous Dean refused to “roll up his sleeves and get dirty with the rest of the staff.” After a few weeks of my students arriving to my class and sitting there, when they came at all, I was replaced, as an English teacher, by a Georgetown undergraduate, and my chair position was granted to a new hire with no experience. They also hired a male teacher to “co-teach” my Film classes with me for the rest of the year. I was told, on my sick-bed, that due to the “indefinite” nature of my leave, and the fact that I had been relieved of 50% of my teaching duties, I would be reduced to “part-time” staff, with 50% pay. Fortunately for me I was aware of my rights under the Family and Medical Leave Act. Once I threatened them with that knowledge they sung a different tune about my pay, and informed me that they were giving me a “break” for the rest of the year by allowing me to feel worthless and unappreciated at work, while paying me my regular salary.

When I decided to have my youngest child, my husband and I had a brief and one-sided (self-serving on my part) “conversation.” He was certain that he wanted to have another child, I was willing to compromise on this part, but we had to have the baby immediately because I spent my entire twenties “having babies” and though many would argue that “I didn’t miss a beat,” I silently dealt with some form of professional/academic sacrifice/discrimination with each pregnancy. Most often it manifested in some adult superior refusing to allow me to progress to my full potential because they felt I would be incapable of performing because I was a mom.

I am secretly afraid for all of my many single, childless, professional girlfriends who I am quite certain will one day be the target of discrimination at their jobs when they decide to have children. I am also grateful, particularly after what happened with my youngest child, that I had my children when I did, while I was still in school, first in undergrad and then while pursuing my Ph.D., because if I was knee deep in a tenure track job I am almost certain I would have cause for concern.

By the end of that school year, I had a beautiful baby girl, my Ph.D., a new job as a postdoc at an Ivy League institution (I started filling out job applications after the first threatening conversation) and my sanity. I still miss my students at Duke Ellington dearly and regret that I allowed anyone to throw me “off track.” My pride is also still hurt. Women face unfair discrimination as a result of choosing motherhood all the time. Male teachers (and Ph.D. students) advance, despite having children, completely unscathed.

The Rising Popularity of Single Motherhood?

Benee11 Comments

Maybe you haven’t noticed, but people (read: Hollywood) seem to be embracing single motherhood these days. I know, I know… it seems impossible, right?

Well, it is only possible if you are White, or at least non-Black.

In recent years, there have been a number of movies about White women having babies in unconventional ways. Knocked Up, Baby Mama, The Back-Up Plan, and The Switch are all movies about White (or racially ambiguous, in the case of JLo’s movie) women become pregnant or seek to have babies in ways other than being married or in committed relationships. These are romantic comedies that usually involve the female falling in love during pregnancy or after having the child, so they all pretty much end up happily. Seems cool, right?

I have to ask then, as a Black single mother, where is MY positive, funny, romantic representation?

In 2009, CNN featured an article about out-of-wedlock births being at an all-time high.

Nearly 40 percent of babies born in the United States in 2007 were delivered by unwed mothers, according to data released last month by the National Center for Health Statistics. The 1.7 million out-of-wedlock births, of 4.3 million total births, marked a more than 25 percent jump from five years before.

There are so many negative statitistics related to the likelihood of how these lives of these children will turn out. Oftentimes, these statistics are associated with people of color (Black, Non-White Latino). According to the article 72% of Black children are born out-of-wedlock, compared to 65% American Indian, 51% Latino, 28% White, and 17% Asian. White women have the second-lowest rate, yet Hollywood seeks to glamourize their plights and paint the picture that when White women have children outside of traditional marriages, it is because the women choose it, they are older, they just want to be happy with babies and don’t want to wait for men to come around. “Knocked Up” is the only movie that made it “accidental”, but the main character had a great career and a high paying job, so it was assumed that she would do just fine because she could handle it.  She briefly considered abortion, but opted to keep the baby and prepared herself to raise it alone because the father was a less-than-responsible stranger. In the end, however, they fell in love through bonding over the pregnancy and it all worked out for the best.

This idea of choice is important. According to the article 50,000 of women delivering babies annually are single mothers by choice. It cites women getting older and dealing with biological clocks ticking as motivation and sperm banks as the answer. However, these methods are costly, so chances are that these women are financially capable of handling the expenses of raising a child alone.

What about Black women? Are we making the same choice? This article  talks about the rise of single  Black women adopting children, suggesting Black women too often encounter men who show little interest in being married, so they take it upon themselves to become mothers as their child-bearing window begins to close. According to this article, Black single women made up 55% of public adoptions in 2001.  There are 330k+ Black women aged 35-44 who have never been married or had children, which the article suggests is the motivation for Black women seeking alternative means to become mothers.

Can we afford it?  From the articles referenced above, we spend an average of $15,000 to adopt or go through in vitro fetilization or the use of sperm from sperm banks.    But then, this article says that 38% of Black single mothers live at or below the poverty line. Economics is definitely a factor for women of any race, but it seems as though Black women are more likely to face economic challenges. But, many of us highly educated, career women are still spending money to become mothers. 

So where is our movie?

I could comment on the lack of positive representation of Black women, Black love, and Black families in Hollywood in general, but that’s another idea. I’m wondering how something that was once a negative stereotype most commonly associated with Black women is now suddenly becoming the “in” thing among White women… and why is Hollywood now romanticizing it?

Where is the non-Tyler Perry written/directed/produced/acted/scored/distributed/animated movie about a successful single Black woman who CHOOSES to become a single mother, does so successfully, and falls in love in the process? Or maybe she doesn’t have to fall in love, but find some support. One of the earlier articles said that 80% of children born out-of-wedlock are born to romantically involved parents, so being unmarried doesn’t mean not being happily in love or in a good relationship.

So where is our movie?

Where is our TV show?

I’m pondering all of this as I find myself a divorcing single mom co-parenting a small child and finding myself ready to date again. I’m pondering this because of my concern that my being a single mom is a negative in terms of being found appealing as a mate. I’m pondering this because of the negative stigma still attached to Black single moms that I hope to debunk or at least avoid. I’m pondering this because I’m wondering about the likelihood of finding a mate who takes us as a package deal if so many single non-mothers are struggling to find mates. I’m just doing a lot of pondering and I’m wondering how you readers feel about this Hollywood trend and the lack of positive representation of Black single mothers in media.

It Ain’t My Fault

Dr. Mama Esq.10 Comments
  • Montana Fishburne, aka Chippy D, actor Laurence Fishburne’s daughter, getting into the pornography business.
  • Nicole Richie, singer/songwriter Lionel Richie’s daughter, circa 2003-2007, high on heroin and pain meds, arrested and jailed.
  • Maia Campbell, the late author Bebe Moore Campbell’s daughter, suffering from bipolar disorder, high on meth and allegedly prostituting herself.

We tend to believe that when a child ends up a young adult going down the wrong path, the first place to place the blame is on the parents. Chris Rock made this folk wisdom a funny platitude when he said that as a father, his only job was to “keep my daughter off the pole!” We tend to believe that who people grow up to be as adults is the direct product of the inputs of their parents. Those who turn to drugs, alcohol, prostitution, gambling and any of the other vices of the world are often thought of as children who weren’t loved enough, disciplined enough, paid attention to enough, protected enough, read to enough, sang to enough, just overall parented enough. The general idea is that lousy kids come from lousy parents.

Bullshit.

Let’s face it: some people are going to grow up to be crackheads, meth-smokers, pimps and prostitutes no matter what kind of family they come from. Some people are going to lack self-control and self respect no matter how many times their parents told them they loved them, no matter how many times they were lovingly disciplined, no matter how many books were in their homes, no matter how organic their food was. Nasty adults come from families were the parents were the nicest people on the block, who hugged their kids all the time, limited their television watching, and didn’t allow violent video games in their homes.

The fact that you now are different from your siblings, and you grew up in the same house is evidence that parenting is not the end-all-be-all in how people turn out. There are so many other things going on, things we discuss on this blog all the time. And I’m sorry, this might make me lose cool points among you all, but I’m saying it – I’m not taking all the blame if my kids don’t turn out to be the greatest in the world. I’m doing my best, giving them most of what I’ve got. (Not all, cause we gotta save a bit for ourselves!)

I’m not saying that the Fishburnes and Richies and Campbells did all they could – I have no idea. But you probably don’t either. At the end of the day, if my kids end up as prostitutes, high on drugs, or in porn, it ain’t my fault.

What do you think? Do you blame the parents when you see young adults acting out? If your kids go down the wrong road, will you blame yourself?

Ya’ll have me thinking…

Salina18 Comments

I’m constantly thinking about parenting, specifically, how to do it in a way that will “guarantee” that my son grows into a responsible, healthy, spiritual, generous, socially active, loving, compassionate warrior. There are times when the task is daunting, especially when I dare venture into the world of popular media culture.

Yes, I’m talking the world of “106 and Park”, the various music award shows, and lord help me, the radio stations with POWER, KISS, and LIVE in front.  Each time I’m more distraught, terrified even at the thought that the young folk today are being “raised” on sex, sex, and more sex.  Casual sex.  Unprotected sex. Irresponsible sex. And my worst fear: Teen sex.  They can’t escape it-  the teenage musical icons: Rihanna, Drake, Lil Wayne, and even Miley Cyrus have ALL made sexually provocative and explicit songs and videos.  It absolutely boggles my mind.

I’m sure we could all share anecdotes about young girls and boys reciting sexually explicit lyrics, simulating the infamous ‘stripper dance’ to the obvious delight of all within visual distance.  I imagine we’ve all swapped stories, appalled by the mamas who let their young daughters go out dressed in ‘booty’ shorts and barely there tops, quickly passing judgment on their questionable parenting styles. How many of us were ready to storm BET after watching Lil Wayne, Drake, and whoever else perform “I wanna ….. every girl in the world” while those young girls came out on stage, dancing and performing for the audience?  Yet since then Drake has become one of the biggest selling rap artists in the last few years.

I bring this up because media is a powerful cultural transmitter. Society’s values, norms, and even expectations are reflected in the music, film, television, and even social networking sites.  Research shows that young people interact with some form of media for multiple hours everyday. They can’t escape it.

So I have a question, should we do everything in our power to keep children from interacting with media, in hopes to keep them safe from it’s influence?  Do we stage local and national protests? Do we write letters? Do we boycott? What do we do?

Or do we even care?

i know i’m not supposed to talk about this but . . .

Tanji11 Comments

it used to be a really hot topic. even without picking up glamour magazines with “sex secrets” and “statistics” women, and in particular i mean my girl’s and I, used to talk about “it.” i’m afraid that because i’m married now (and have been for the last three years) and because i am 30 and because i’m a scholar (and because that means i’m only supposed to write about “Serious” topics), and because i have three kids and the majority of my friends are still single (even though that use to mean that we could talk about it), i may never get this out again . . .

i miss sex. it’s not that i don’t have it anymore but i really do think it’s true what they say about marriage and kids, once you do both, you just don’t do “it” that much anymore. i hate to sound like one of my kids but boooo whoooooo. this is so unlike me.

this won’t be a long one ladies, because somewhere in the rational part of my mind I am well aware that Internet publishing about my personal sex life is probably academic career suicide. However, I really wish I had some answers for how married CocoaMamas get “it” done?