The American Navel

I can't believe it's been over a week since I've posted!

The past few weeks I have been hard at work on my photography business and website! It has certainly "taken over", in addition to my other familial duties...PLUS we've all been ill.  With that said, I have been writing this blog post for over a week in between figuring out my packaging and pricing and all the exciting things I will be offering my photography clients!

So the week before last, while I was figuring out how I will conduct my business, I looked at many photography websites, especially those catering to newborns, babies and young children.

When it came to my bio, I debated whether or not to include a photograph of myself. When I looked around, I found only a handful of photographers without photos of themselves and thought I might as well, even though my initial inclination was not to display one on the site. I felt that I was advertising my work as a photographer - did it really matter what I looked like....?

When I showed the site to my husband, his first comment was, "I don't think you need your photo"...

I stopped.... annoyed (not at him), that it ALWAYS seemed that when I thought something and did the opposite, maybe I should have done what I was initially going to do. I went on to explain to him that almost all the photography websites I checked out included photos of the photographers and added that it did make sense to me, that a parent would want to see who was photographing their children.... Wouldn't I??

Maybe a note about my husband would be helpful... He grew up in France, and is for the most part, French... Culturally European (and West African... But the focus here is the European). He then made a comment about Americans...always thinking about their own navel....as if they are the center of their own Universe.... Now.. he's not the only one who said this - I showed the site to a neighbor of mine - also European and she also asked about my photo.  I chuckled!  Now I'm really  beginning to think it's a crazy American thing... (side note: I am in no way bashing Americans - I am only pointing out and interested in discussing cultural differences...)

So after some thought I went with my gut... and took my photo down... for now... until I have one that I'm happier with..

But what they were saying complimented each other - my husband was talking about his noticing this culture where we don't debate topics that stray far from ourselves.  Instead of talking about "Malcolm" (his example), we focus on our lives...  I mean... could my blog be in that category... probably...uh yes... even though I try hard not to..

My neighbor's comment was particularly concerning if one thought what the had to say was so interesting that we had to share with other people.

Now, I know many people NOT on Facebook and many not concerned with letting others know about their daily ins and outs in what others think, but I don't know if it's a purely American thing... It could be an artist thing...  I mean when you work for yourself and write or act or dance or promote yourself, it's hard to stray from that because YOU are your "brand" - YOU are your own bread.  It could also be a product of our society... "iPhone" "mobile ME".... "iPod" "iPad"... our everyday products focus on ourselves...

There's a fine line between just enough me and too much me... but it can be annoying or frustrating maybe to meet people who are constantly thinking about me, myself and I.  We require so much attention these days.  What would be do if we shut off the twitter and Facebook... it seems so rare to have a telephone conversation these days... so much is done by text and I'm not excluding myself (although I'm working hard NOT to make this about me).

I would really like to hear what people think... Are you a perpetrator of constant navel-gazing?... be honest... OR do you avoid it like the plague and attempt to participate in discussions about things other than yourself?

 

The Stuttering Photographer and Elizabeth Halford

Starting a business is hard. You have to think about the ins and outs of how it will function.  In the beginning it's just you - so there is much more to think about and you write lists and there's advertising and marketing to think about.  Maybe even investors!  THEN - if you're a SAHM, you have to figure  out your business plus your family life!

It's enough to drive a person mad!

All this before you've even thought about how you're going to actually approach people, because let's face it - it's so much easier to just sit behind a screen and type / edit away (I mean I am a playwright) - but there is something about person-to-person interactions... (they're rare in this day and age).

With that said, I was really happy when I came across Elizabeth Halford, an American photographer living in Great Britain.  Her blog has been quite helpful as I think and create the intricacies of my new baby photography business (Like us on Facebook / GarBaby's Photos - Shameless plug...).  Elizabeth has ptosis and does "Vlogs" on YouTube.  After "Vlogging" for a while, she received a lot of questions about her left eye (video below).

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DG0wgHXubFE]

After watching Elizabeth's video, I mentioned her in a tweet!  I understood absolutely everything that she was saying!

You see - I stutter - I have since I was 5 and well, it's just a part of my everyday life.  Living as a person who stutters has had an absolute effect on the way I think about things and interact with people.  It is so innate, that some of my behaviors might seem unorthodox to others, even though they make complete sense to me.

Here are a few examples:

• I rarely introduce myself and if I am in a groups of people, I will wait for someone else to say my name.
  
  
  
  • This may give the impression that I view myself in such high regard that I need to be introduced, and while I do have pretty good self-esteem, I certainly do not think I am above telling another person my own name, I'd just rather not take 25 minutes to do it.
  
  
  
  


• I switch words in the middle of sentence if necessary.
  
  
  
  • If I can think of something that is easier to say, I'll say it.  For example, I prefer "spectacles" over "glasses" - the Glottal "g" is not one of my better sounds (and with a name like "G"arlia - you wonder why I don't introduce myself often...).
  
  
  
  


• I prefer not to argue.
  
  
  
  • Any sort of confrontation is hard and I avoid it like the plague ... WHY?  Because arguments are quick and people say things sharply that sting... but I normally come out of them more frustrated because I never actually said what I wanted because maybe I word-switched or just gave up.  The more stress / Frustration, the more I stutter... the more anyone who stutters will stutter.
    
    
    
    • I have witnessed James Earl Jones not argue... and he stutters.. that is his way to keep everything under control...
    
    
    
    
  
  
  
  

If you watched Elizabeth's video - she talked about not letting your "thing" (ptosis, impediment, etc...) stop you from sharing your gifts with the world.  She spoke about how God made you who you are and that is a wonderful gift to share with the world.

Her words meant a lot to me.  And while I have never let my speech get in the way of doing what I need to do, maybe it was a boost for me.  It certainly is a wonderful message that I thought was important to share.

1 year... 3 lines

Last year, I subscribed to Baby Center's updates and allowed their app to send weekly notices of my child's progress.

While I find the app pretty thorough, I normally ignore it - not that it doesn't have valuable information... I just don't always have the time to read it, but I do like having it.

But I digress — the message below popped up on my phone on my daughter's birthday...





If only this last year could actually be summed up in 3 lines.

But I can try...
"Congratulations! You've just made it through one of the most exhausting years of your life - only 17 more to go!"

Or

"Congratulations! Your Life as you know it is Over!"

OR

"Congratulations! You'll never go to the bathroom alone again!"

OR

"Congratulations! Privacy is a thing of the past!"

... You get the picture!

But in all seriousness - nothing beats this first year- watching someone literally grow before your eyes is such an amazing gift that I am more than honored to experience!

I wouldn't trade it for anything!

Competing to be June Cleaver

If you knew me way back when - you may not recognize me now.

Some days I feel like Martha Stewart: baking, taking care of our daughter, keeping up with housework...truly domestic. Other days, I wish I could call on my French au pair to go where I go so I could do the simple things in life that we all take for granted...like go to the restroom without fearing I'll have to jump off to save my daughter who may have fallen in the other room, even though she's just fine and asleep soundly in her crib.

Post-Grad School Blues

We've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on degrees that are packed in boxes we rarely unpack in between the annual apartment moves.

The time spent educating ourselves would lead one to believe that post-graduation would be a breeze.   Right....

But with an MFA in Playwrighting, Directing or Acting... job applications are not always "submit your resume and list your special skills".  It's not quite so black and white for everyone.

While a fair amount of our other friends are buying homes, having children or making their comfortable livings as doctors, lawyers and ... there are many of us out there becoming what we've dreamed of since we were children, not because it will necessarily make us rich (although we've never complained about a couple dollars), but because it makes us happy and truly "rich".

Upon exiting graduate school, I believe there is a cloud that follows - it's hazy and colorful - one believes in the mirage of dreams from this cloud and then one day, you're down, the lowest you've ever been and who's there to help you?  Not help you in a little way - but help you in a way where you can be honest... we're not talking, "did you finish the play?".  We're talking head-hunters and job interviews at non-profits, waiting tables, corporate resumes and working at the GAP...


Post-Grad School is full of this extra stuff that has nothing at all to do with how many beats are in this scene or what is this character's objective.

Driving through this mess can seem hazy until you realize it's not only you out there.  But it can all mess with your identity.  If you get caught up in "What size sweater were you looking for", how long until you begin creating the schedule or doing things you're good at to pay the bills.

A healthy balance is hard, but necessary.  With the right people surrounding you - totally possible.

To all my post-grad school graduates, keep driving, surround yourself with good people and don't forget what you always wanted to be!

Happy Belated Black History Month

I was remiss in not mentioning the start of Black History Month in Friday's "Oreo" post. One might think that with a blog entitled, "The Day I Found Out I was Black" that I might be the first to take note, but motherhood distracts me from most of what made me who I was before having a baby and priorities are shifted.... sometimes drastically.

In my case, having a baby thrust me back to the days when I accomplished a lot in little time AND excelled (however I'm stilling working on the excel part).

So while my degrees and focus on black identity and culture in America and the Diaspora were 1st on my mind once upon a time, these days I'm most likely thinking about what I should make my daughter for lunch and if I should go to Whole Foods today or tomorrow.... before or after she naps.

However, my experience as an "Oreo" is exactly what led me to work on my MA in African American and African Diaspora Studies. So maybe it wasn't a bad introduction after all.

Happy Black History Month!

A Shout-Out to all my OREOS!

Happy Friday!

In honor of the end of the work week, let's keep it light... with a poem....

This poem is from "The Day I Found Out I was Black" - which was performed in 2004 at Indiana University.  I haven't read it in quite some time, so looking at it now made me chuckle  a little.  While I seriously had those feelings, it's nice to have gotten past them, but I know I'm not the only one who felt that way or who feels that way.  I have encountered many "oreos" since high school... had I known more, we could have bonded... but not all "oreos" make friends...you smile at one another, wave, have polite conversation, but that's pretty much it.

Last week, there was a re-tweet by playwright Katori Hall of a link to young woman's play "Life as an Oreo" by April A. Jones (@aprilreign91) - I have been thinking of this since then and dedicate this post to April and all the other Oreos out there!

 

 



 

 

 

 

 



 

Helmet Hair

Gabby Douglas made me think a lot this summer... I wrote this right before the Olympics wrapped... I suppose I finally have the guts to post it ...5 months later... remember my procrastination problem...

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Before my 1st communion in 2nd grade, I begged my mom for a perm. The other black girls in my elementary school had perms, and I wanted silky straight hair like theirs instead of my thick, almost unmanageable mane. Until then, my hair had been completely natural. For the first 5 years of my life, our nanny, Mary, would wash, blow dry and use a curling iron to straighten my hair with Vitapointe. Looking back, I wish that had been the case forever - I would have had the long hair I wanted... but natural. There is a photo of me with my brother on a “Slip and Slide” before my perm – my afro was large and in charge! How embarrassed I was to let the white girls at school see me like that. How proud I would be now.

[caption id="attachment_99" align="aligncenter" width="85"] ...my afro was large and in charge...[/caption]

As a child, I loved being light-skinned. I was comforted by the fact that I was closer to white. My hair, on the other hand, wasn’t quite there yet. My mother's curly and easily manipulated hair straightened with ease, while mine broke, burned and everything else if not properly cared for.

[caption id="attachment_25" align="aligncenter" width="196"] As a child, I loved being light skinned...[/caption]

So when I saw Gabby Douglas at the gymnastic trials in June, I got it. I didn't need any explanation for her hair, nor did I think it was any of my business. I was thrilled to see she and Elizabeth Price (the other Black teen who qualified as an alternate) on the team! The last time I watched so much gymnastics, Shannon Miller and Dominique Dawes reigned supreme. It was wonderful to watch this milestone take place in the history books for so many young black girls and women (including my 5 month old daughter)! It was nice to be excited again about a sport I admired so much as a pre-teen.

I had my own Olympic hopes once, but as an equestrienne in dressage and show jumping. Not nearly as “hair-raising” as gymnastics, but nonetheless, a fine and decidedly “elite” sport. Even more misunderstood and still requiring training that can often be expensive. Unfortunately, my brother and I stopped riding before that dream could come true (or else my parents, like Gabby's might have been faced with similar financial difficulties). I stuck with and excelled at more artistic things: ballet, singing, and the flute.

[caption id="attachment_34" align="aligncenter" width="202"] "I had my own olympic hopes once, but as an equestrienne..."[/caption]

Remember the “kiddie perm” from 2nd grade? Well, I went swimming that summer – and my hair was badly damaged. My “large and in charge afro” - destroyed. By the time I went to band camp, the only option while away from home for so long was braids, so that my hair would stay in place and I could focus on my music. Feeling unsettled, I sported the braids and beads look that summer, around the same time as Serena and Venus Williams. But I wasn’t a tennis champion showcasing my fashion sense. I saw myself in the wrong body and I hated that style, as it did not fit my personality. I hated seeing my scalp and was so happy when a few braids in the back became unraveled and the girls in my cabin could see my “real hair”. I remember feeling so embarrassed, wanting nothing more than to have long flowing hair, preferably in the shape of a ponytail that swayed side to side like Abby, the blonde basketball playing twin a few years older than me in elementary and middle school  that I thought was "so cool".

The few sprinklings of black children and teens I encountered in my “elite” activities were not interested in bonding. We glanced at each other, gave a little smile, but mainly preferred to remain the only speckle in our group of friends - shedding light on being black and embracing our race when necessary.

By the time I went to my all-girls Catholic high school, I was absolutely certain I was in the wrong body, and to emphasize how alien I felt, nicknamed myself "Oreo", encouraging my white friends in my high school drama group to call me that (but somehow never letting my mother know).

The handful of times I sat at the black lunch table were both awkward and comfortable. I felt like I could fit in, but was afraid to fully embrace what sitting at the “Black table” meant... that I was Black.

But the one thing all of the black girls, oreos and non-oreos alike, had in common, that I was still not getting, was their hair. It always looked "tight". Mine was usually worn in a bun, pulled back... rarely down. But when it was - I got a lot of comments... seems that my thick hair really straightened well (after I learned to take care of it). I, like Gabby, loved it long and flowing.

All of this changed, however when I went to college and encountered Blacks in a collegiate setting that made me fully embrace who I was in my natural state. I “transitioned” back to my natural hair in 2003. I owe my transition in part to Carolyn, a woman one year above me who transitioned and had the most beautiful spirals. I had no idea that’s what natural hair could look like. After letting my relaxer grow out a little bit, I realized that I too had the same spiral texture. I was scared to completely embrace something I had been trying to fry for the past 13 years or so, but I knew that who I was would only fully come through once I was less concerned with fitting into a mold that included straight hair and a keen nose.

Gabby Douglas is an Olympic champion who has so energetically broken down walls and made her country more than proud. But she is still a teenager, in predominantly white environments, trying to fit-in, trying to focus, not wanting to be bothered and doing what most of the other girls around her are doing, which in her case, means throwing her hair into a pony-tail that doesn’t really sway, but is good enough to please her surroundings and get her through the day.

When we look to her in 2016 Brazil, she will be 20, have a few endorsements under her belt and most likely a “make-over” of some sort. Her story will have inspired millions and her hair... well, we’ll just have to see...