Acknowledging The Unseen

I have 4 children. For those of you that know me, you know how much I love my kids. Around this time every year, I seem to get a little more contemplative. They’re getting older, I’m getting older. From the end of July through the end of August, in a 6 week span, they all celebrate a birthday. This week, is my youngest’s birthday and with each kid, I remember the moment they came into my life, a part of my family. Like most mothers, I find myself thinking about what makes each kid special, how they’ve enriched my life simply by being born and sharing who they are and where they fit. Each child has a place in my heart and I can’t imagine my life without any of them, special events like holidays or celebrations wouldn’t be the same without them. I’m not saying that I’ve never had a family event where one of them wasn’t in attendance, I’m saying that if they were absent – they were missed. Their conversation, qualities and presence was missed. I thought about this quite a bit this week. I commute about 35 miles into downtown Los Angeles 5 days a week to the financial district. I’ve worked in the same building for a little over 13 years. I’ve seen a lot of changes, architectually, economically and demographically. Downtown has changed. Lots of companies are now vying for the privilege to cater to the executives and their families that have moved into the city to be closer to their jobs. I guess that’s a good thing for them and for revitalizing the area. Along with the folks that have moved in and changed the demographic, and the companies that have moved in to cater to them, there’s another steady and growing population. There are the many homeless people that were there before the lofts were revitalized, new apartment buildings erected and the “young, hip and wealthy” moved in. It disturbs me that with all of the improvements the area has gone through, there is an entire population of have nots that live on bus benches, push their entire lives in shopping carts. Talk to themselves, beg for money for a mea, etcl.

I think about some of these people and as each year passes, I wonder about them personally. How they came to live on the streets? Were they missed by their families? Were their mothers missing them the way I know I would be missing mine? I know from talking to some that drugs were the catalyst for their descent. Others, I’m sure that mental illness played a part – though I wonder if the onset of the mental illness was apparent before their present living circumstances, or as a result from being on the street. I can’t imagine living on the streets – especially in the downtown area and not needing therapy, medication, hospitilization or all three. I see the haunted, vacant stares, and know that I would look the same way; many are hungry, hungry enough to search the trashcans in search of a meal; the begging, the air of utter despair – I see these individuals and I wonder who’s child this was and if they are missing them? If it’s their birthday? I wonder if their family’s heritage and traditions are lost or dying on the streets of downtown Los Angeles. If they had children, grandchildren that they’ve never had the opportunity to know, and in turn to be known.

Most people ignore them. They are frequently unacknowledged. I wonder how I would react if I were asking for help, only to have most people act like they didn’t see me.

At times like this week, I think of my own children and how I would miss them if they became a member of this segment of the population of people; the “unseen” that walk and live on those streets, here and all over the country without an anchor, without a family or a support system? There are some programs in place, I know, but not nearly enough. The Los Angeles Mission is nearby and does offer some services. I know that the Fred Jordan Mission mostly helps the growing number of poor and homeless families. I think that holidays are when most people think about the homeless. I think about them mostly around this time of year. The time of year when my kids are another turn another older. When I’m feeling blessed that I’ll have the opportunity to wish them a Happy Birthday. Wondering which of the men and women that I see and have seen are having a birthday this month too? I don’t know what the solution is. I don’t know if there even is a solution that would work across the board and help these folks with even the basics. A clean bed, food to eat, shelter. I’ve heard that there are probably more than a few homeless people that won’t get help at these establishments because they either don’t feel safe, or can’t keep the small amount of personal belogings they own with them.

I know one person in my life that sees and acknowledges these people. She thinks of them and she tries to make a difference. She lives across the street from me and she is what I describe to the son of mine lucky enough to claim her as “the jackpot of mother-in-laws” but really, we all have benefitted from her compassion. Just knowing her and there are people like her in this world. Twice a month, after asking companies, individuals etc for donations of food, paper products etc. She spends a day cooking whatever ingredients she’s been fortunate enough to purchase or is donated and takes it to feed the homeless and hungry. There is some comfort in knowing someone personally that sees a need and steps up to the plate.

I hope one day, I am able to be counted among her ranks. Someone that is helping to make a difference, someone that hears a plea from those that are frequently “unseen and unacknowledged” and answers the call.

The Power of Forgiving

The act of forgiving is powerful. Forgiveness not only has the power of releasing the burden of guilt from the perpetrator, but it also frees the forgiver.  There are many people in this world that carry their guilt around because they either never learned how to apologize, or for whatever reason ( guilt, shame, hurt) didn’t feel they were worthy enough to ask for it. I’ve tried to teach my children that when you do something that warrants an apology, give it and do it as soon as you realize you’ve made a mistake or caused pain or trouble. It not only speaks of your character, it allows the person you’ve wronged resolution – the act isn’t just for the person that you’re apologizing to – it’s just as equally important for you. It doesn’t make you weak, on the contrary; It gives you the freedom to move ahead and THAT makes you stronger.

I think that some that will read this post and might think it an odd subject matter, that grown folks know how to say ‘I’m sorry’ and keep it moving. You’d be surprised at the number of people that I’ve come in contact with in my lifetime that couldn’t move forward because they have some pent up anger, guilt, grief, shame or hatred for someone because either they weren’t apologized to (sincerely) or hadn’t apologized for an infraction that they knew warranted it.  If you find yourself in either situation, you need to get busy making that apology – even if and I would say especially if you are just apologizing to yourself. The stress that isn’t being released can make you sick. It can also make you toxic – or both and more importantly it can (and will) impede your ability to move forward.

Though I’ve tried to pass this information to my own children, recently I faced a situation where my youngest son said some pretty hateful things in anger to his sister. Things that if someone that was not related to her had uttered those words, they probably would have been beaten within an inch of their lives by the same kid that said them. He was angry – very angry and she was devastated. When the smoke cleared a bit and both had finally calmed down, I talked to both of them repeatedly. She wasn’t in a forgving mood and he couldn’t bring himself to ask for forgiveness. Real life – it happens, even when you know better.  Fast forward over a couple of weeks, them barely speaking to one another, not in a cooperative mood, and like an open wound, those feelings were allowed to fester. Neither of them getting to benefit from the simple act of forgiving. 

During the time they weren’t speaking to each other, I talked to both of them. Him because no matter how angry he was, he needed to apologize. I told him that if something happened to her and he hadn’t apologized, he would carry that with him forever – and it’s a lot easier to ask someone else to forgive you than it is for you to forgive yourself, especially when you no longer have the opportunity to do it. I spoke with her because she needed to forgive him, to release her anger with him and get rid of the toxicity building in her heart.  I’m pleased to say that they’ve worked it out. Forgiveness, it’s not for wimps. It’s powerful medicine and it can cure what ails you.   



I’m Baaaaccckkk!!!!!

I’ve been ignoring this blog since my departure from the Danger Project a couple of months ago. Though I’m no longer a member of that project, I’m grateful for that opportunity because without the invitation to become a participant, I probably would have not been nearly as motivated to start a blog, the creation of this blog means that  I would HAVE to write.  I have moments when I aspire to be a writer – a good writer; but I’m not sure that I have what it takes or that the voices in my head should necessarily be given the opportunity to have an audience. Not because my thoughts aren’t relevant or valid – but because they are; and not everyone will welcome or appreciate my musings. That said, I can only hope that if nothing else, my random thoughts will give you something to think about. If not today then tomorrow.  

Originally, this blog entry was going to be about how distasteful I’ve found the way some women and specifically our women (women of color) treat each other. I say “our” because I am a black woman. I was raised by a white woman and I was taught that women – all women should hold each other up. Women of color I give special reference to because we are a minority of a minority. Our mothers, aunts, grandmothers, great grandmothers, etc. survived through some of the harshest times in the history of this country because they were able to depend on one another in hard times. I wonder sometimes if those “harsh times” ever came back, if we as a sisterhood would be able to survive. From what I’ve seen, I’m not so sure.  Here’s an example:

  I’ve recently had an instance when I’d taken one of my granddaugthers out to a store and encountered a young girl around her age looking her up and down and rolling her eyes and looking like she had something nasty in her mouth.  My granddaughter is beautiful, and I’m not saying that because she’s my granddaughter, she’s one of those children whose mother (or grandmother) is stopped regularly in a store, restaurant or some other public place and told how beautiful she is. We thank the observer and keep it moving. She is 8 and not really comfortable with being singled out – and has never really been.  So, on this outing where she was looked at by the other little girl with such disdain, I sideyed her reaction. She looked at the girl, gave her a “who do you think you’re messing with? smirk”  rolled her eyes and kept on walking.  When we left the store, I asked my grandbaby about the little girl – wondering if maybe she knew her. She said she didn’t but that the little girl gave her a nasty look and to quote her exact words said: “I gave it right back to her ZsaZsa – I’m not a punk! ” To say that I was shocked that 2 little girls who don’t know each other would act in that manner – shocked me is an understatement. In my day (yeah, I’m old!) or her Mama’s day, the taste would have been slapped out of our mouths so quickly, we wouldn’t have had time to prepare for it.  Apparently,  “The Golden Rule”  Treat others the way you want to be treated – is no longer in vogue or of value?  I’m not sure.  While I know that life is ever-changing and the only constant is change, respect isn’t a fashion accessory. It is ALWAYS in style until someone does something to provoke a change in status. 

Women universally belong to a sisterhood. We (most but not all) are the nurturers and not just for our children but for the world at large. We have set and enforced the rules in our families and though not always successful, set the example. Now that the example is changing, I wonder what kind of women our little girls, grands etc are going to be? We have the most input when it comes to raising the children. If my friend Muhjahid Woodson-Qahhar’s stats are accurate, most of us women of color are rearing these babies by ourselves. I shudder to think what our example is showing the next generation and how they will implement what they’ve learned? 

After we left that store, I wondered to myself about the other little girl.  “What example must she have witnessed for her to see another little girl and immediately treat her so nastily at first sight?”  Why is that okay? What kind of women will these little girls grow up to be?  What kind of sister-friends will they be? What happens if they as women and specifically as black women face a time in history so tumultuous that they’d need to fall back on one another? Would they survive – would we survive?  

As a member of Facebook and an admin in a couple of rooms, I’ve seen the dynamics between other women in certain groups turn from sugar to spit in a short span of time. It’s usually caused by a lack of respect – a lack of acknowledgment that the other person in the equation should be treated the way that person (whatever their capacity) would want to be treated.  I wonder where exactly generationally the breakdown has occured and wonder even harder at how you fix it?  Can it be fixed?