There is so much going in the world and I have been trying my best to stay informed but gosh it can be overwhelming and heavy. Every day I read about covid 19 and police brutality and poverty and wonder how we will get through this time in history. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer and the middle class is dissolving. Americans are sick and dying and struggling and being beaten and killed and arrested and not getting their basic needs met. It feels dystopian yet I have watched it all unfold before my eyes and it is very real. So I take my family on a hike. We breathe the fresh air and for a moment try not to dwell on the suffering but live in the present moment. On a former landfill we find beauty. A place named after a civil activist who fought as hard as he could to fight oppression. We are revitalized and move forward.
It’s like capturing a moment in time. Eight and a half. You played with beads and doll house. You loved reading Moomin and Yotsuba. You did homeschool work at your desk. In this room you listened to audio books. You wanted to join the Melendy’s and the Penderwick’s. In this bed you slept and grew. In these four walls your life carried on though the outside world seemed to lose its balance, fighting a world pandemic and civil rights movement. We talked about these topics of course, but in your room, in your imagination, you dreamed of a more just and safe world for us all.
In a piece entitled “Living Abroad is My Way of Prolonging My Black Son’s Life” posted in the New York Times by Imani Bashir:
“I refused to attempt giving birth in the States because black women are three to four times more likely to die in pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum than their white counterparts. Black babies have an infant mortality rate that is higher than babies of any other race. I simply wanted us to stay alive, and I could not trust that to be the end result if I stayed in America.”
In conversation with a friend, “Do people look at your sons differently, when they hit a certain age? And at what age is that? I feel like people are so in love with Nasir right now, but I fear that this is going to change, I said to her. She told me that it changes around 10. That’s when you start to experience teachers claiming your child has behavioral problems, and when women start clutching their purses or walking briskly past to avoid contact with your precious boy.”
“In the United States, black children face harsher punishments and more frequent disciplinary actions against them than any other race in a school setting. Black children are 18 times more likely to be tried as an adult than white children are for similar crimes. And according to the American Psychology Association, black boys as young as 10 are viewed as older and less innocent than white boys.”
All children and families should be supported. All communities should pull together to bolster its a citizens for a better future. Black lives matter. This only the beginning. Every child deserves to feel safe and protected, no exceptions. We protest to fight systematic rascism.
The weather has been too warm to stay in so we have been setting our up our blanket under the shade of the trees. Emma has discovered a tree covered in cocoons, caterpillars and moths and is completely enraptured by them.
Emma brought her first ever calico critter travel dollhouse out to the balcony this morning. Again she is proving to be the most creative with space. She began her story with the Little House characters moving house and then sets up each detail. She brought along more characters to add to the fun. This will continue for some time so math is on hold. Play comes first. She will only be young once and we are in a pandemic. It’s good to have these priorities in place.