Maybe black parents should really, really consider homeschooling their black sons

Do I even need to say why?

We could start with this suspension that just happened because a 12 year old boy was accused of staring at a young white girl.  The case makes me sick to my stomach because this same girl was able to dump milk in someone's lunch and get a way with it.  She sounds like a little tyrant, but a black boy "stares at her" and he gets suspension. No kid needs this!

It is no secret that black boys are unevenly disciplined in school.  Let's look at my own son before we started homeschooling.  The kid sitting behind him who was not black was allowed to smack him in the back of his head all.day.long.  But, the second he spoke up or yelled at the boy, or touched the boy, he was threatened by the teacher.  I'm sorry, that's just crap.

But if that's not enough for you, lets look at the facts as a whole.  By fourth grade many African American boys are already falling behind in the classroom.    This tells me that black boys should skip at least elementary school, maybe middle school too.  They need time to become independent boys, assured of their value and place in the world, before joining any formal education institution.
But you can't homeschool?  You are a single parent? Do you need two salaries?  That's not really a problem.  There are dozens of homeschool academies in every major city your kid can attend... but do your due diligence and be careful.  Make sure it is being run by people who will make your kids a priority. 

I guess that is all I have to say for now.  I try to stay away from race for the most part, in my life, and in my blog, but this is one of those straws-that-broke-the-camels-back type of moments.  fur-real.
These kids need to be given a chance, and if the school are not going to do it, then it is the job of the parents to figure it out. 

Freedom

Conversations that changed my outlook on life part 2:

So there's this person who I have known pretty much all my life. Our relationship has always been tenuous. They are demanding. Their love language is gifts... for them... monetary. I don't love that way. So, needless to say, we butt heads. A lot. 

But because of the nature of the relationship, I tried. Over and over. But the older I got, the more I became secure in saying NO. That caused problems. 

After one particular NO. I was told, and I quote: "I hate you. I have always hated you. I will always hate you, and there is nothing you could ever do to change that." Believe it or not, that did not leave me devastated. It freed me. 

In that moment, I understood that my actions would never, ever, ever, EEVVEEERRRRR earn me love. NO. Being who I am would earn me the love that was meant to come to me. So from that moment on, I felt a heavy weight lift from my spirit and I became more authentically myself, knowing that some people are gonna love me, and some people just are not, and I need to stop trying so hard to be who other people want me to be. 

So if I am not that person you remember, who was kinda needy and always seeking approval, you can blame it on MY PERSON, who I will always love regardless, but whose love I can do without if there are strings attached.

Regret

(little girl making big decisions)

(I am stealing this from my Facebook page).  After writing it, it seemed really relative to my blog.  

Conversations that changed my outlook on life... Part 1.
When I was working a second job at a department store preparing to get married, I worked across the aisle from a woman on the other side of marriage. She had been married many, many years, and before her hubby could retire, he had become sick and she was his care-taker. She also had to work for the first time after having been a stay at home mom. Her kids used to come into the store to say hi. Her son was a doctor, and her Daughter was a business woman, and she... She was bitter with regret that she had wasted her time raising her kids and taking care of her husband because look at where it landed her.   

I think she told me these things because she knew I aspired to stay home and take care of my kids and husband and wanted me to escape her fate. She did not scare me from my course though. I saw kids I would be glad to call my own someday, and strength in her ability to adapt.  

But she did scare me away from the sin of regret. I determined that day that whatever came of my life and my family that I would be strong and happy and regret-less.
Sure I regret being unkind on occasion in a couple of circumstances, but I do not and will not regret sacrificing for my family. In the meanwhile, I have also found that gladly sacrificing for my family does not mean ignoring my own needs.

I think what I am trying to say to myself, and my friends is that we all make different decisions in our lives, and then we have to live with those decisions.  We need to do them happily and without regret and bitterness for ourselves and those close to us, and that there is nothing wrong with sacrificing for ourselves and our loved ones.

Personally, for me, doing such has led to greater happiness and fulfillment and has set me up for what seems like a bright future.  Of course I am determined to make it so.

That's not a bomb. That's my belly!

The Atlanta airport TSA now screens with one of those full X-ray machines. Sometimes, I get flagged to be expedited though security, where at most, they check my palms for residue, and sometimes I get the full she-bang.

When I do have to go through the X-ray machine, I have to say it is kind of humiliating. First, you go in, barefoot and put your feet on the germy looking painted feet on the floor, then you lift your hands above your head... and you know... just know, someone is checking out your body and all of its secrets.  Some people do this step and then keep moving, shaking off the feeling of personal violation.  But me... no, not me.

I have to then stand on the next germy foot pad and get felt up.  Apparently the girth I hold around my middle region looks like strapped-on explosives.  The last couple of times, someone rubbed the back of their hands over my stomach, to which I replied... "It's just fat."  They usually giggle and agree.  This time, the young lady kneeded my belly as if she was making pizza dough. It made me feel nauseous.  I replied, (cuz after you are violated, you have to say something, right?).. I replied, see, It's just fat.  She rolled her eyes, and I walked away. Personally I still feel like I deserve a steak dinner.

I'm sorry, I realize they are trying to protect the passengers and myself, but this makes no sense. If my face is chubby. and my legs are as thick and shapely as they are, and my butt is... well, my butt, then chances are, that the girth I am packing on my middle is a flesh belt, and nothing more.

They should really spend more time looking for actual terrorists.

But at least, they stopped combing through my hair, because an afro or a braided bun is surely hiding something right?

Update:  They felt up my stomach, back, and hair on the way back... I'm pretty sure they're not allowed to check your hair anymore.