Addicted to Race is New Demographic’s podcast about America’s obsession with race. Here’s a rundown of what you’ll find in this episode:

What do you do when your white supervisor’s child asks you why your skin is brown? Is the New Haven Firefighters Supreme Court case evidence of “reverse racism” against whites? Carmen Van Kerckhove, Latoya Peterson, and Tami Winfrey Harris discuss.

Right-click here to download an MP3 of Addicted to Race Episode 109
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Wow! I just checked our stats and it turns out we had close to 400 people registered for my free teleseminar yesterday, “Love and Sex: What’s Race Got to Do With It?”

Those of you who joined me live - thank you! Those of you who missed it, don’t worry. If you registered, you will get an audio recording via email. (You can still register for the audio now if you’d like to hear it.)

As you know, this call was a preview to a new program I’m launching called The Racialicious Experience.

Let me tell you more about it.

I’ve been really inspired by the quarter million people who visit our blog Racialicious each month.

Our readers have told me that the blog is a refuge for them, a place where they can come to feel sane, and that it provides them with something that’s missing in their offline lives: a safe space in which they can have relaxed, authentic, and productive conversations about race.

So I began thinking to myself: would it be possible to replicate those qualities of our blog into something bigger? Into a live experience?

And that’s how The Racialicious Experience was born.

It’s a 6-week program in which we’ll explore how race impacts the way we view the world, our experiences in the workplace, our family life, our sexual and romantic relationships, and even the way we do or do not express our authentic selves. We’ll conclude with the biggest question of all: Why does it even matter? At the end of the day, what’s the human cost of racism?

One of things that I believe is missing from a lot of programs out there that explore race or diversity, is this human element.

A lot of corporate diversity training, for example, is really about telling you what you should or shouldn’t do in the workplace. And there are a lot of programs that fall into the anti-racism or anti-oppression training category that can stay too much in the abstract: they deal with issues of racial justice, social justice, but often don’t connect those issues to how these impact the actual lives of everyday people like you and me.

That’s just one of the things that sets this program apart from others. I really want us to focus on how race and racism impact us as human beings. How it prevents us from forming real connections with one another. How it can even get in the way of allowing us to express our authentic selves. How does that impact our spirits? Our souls?

Now, I’d love to accept every person who applies for this program. But, there’s just no way I can accommodate everyone and still provide the select, hands-on experience you need.

So, to honor my commitment to you, I’ve decided to limit enrollment to two select groups of 15 people.

Also, because it’s so important to this experience that I create the kind of safe, intimate space that will most conducive to authentic conversation, I have created an application process for this program. Only those who are accepted will be able to participate in the program.

I’ve created (a rather long) page with all the details you’ll need to know about the format, the dates, the tuition, the application process, etc. You can read it here, and also request your application: http://www.racialiciousexperience.com

One thing you should know is that I must receive your application by 5 pm Eastern on Wednesday, July 8th, in order for you to be considered for this program. So if this sounds like something you’d like to participate in, please do get your application in early!

Thanks! And I hope you’ll join me this summer for The Racialicious Experience.

If my purse ever gets stolen, it’s Dave Chappelle’s fault. In the spring of 1997, I attended a barbecue at the home of a friend in Los Angeles. Since the party was almost exclusively populated by a particular type of television writer (think Conan O’Brien), I was taken aback when a young black gentleman entered the festivities. Given L.A.’s then-fearsome reputation as the home of rogue cops, riots, and drive-by shootings, I was scared that the newcomer was a crack-crazed Crip out for honky blood. But, no, it was Dave. Once I realized my mistake, I spent the entire evening agreeing with his every word and laughing at all the comedian’s jokes.

And I have spent the next 12 years leaving my purse wide open and at least six feet away from me. It’s my penance for having automatically assumed a black man in L.A. was a criminal. Being black doesn’t get me a pass on unconscious negative feelings about African-Americans or the shame we feel when they become conscious. We see the same cultural indicators as everybody else—back then, hours of riot footage, rap videos, and the O.J. trial had created an automatic connection in my mind between African-American Los Angelenos and danger.

So, I was actually excited to read about a new study published in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology in which researchers from the University of Washington confirmed the validity of the Implicit Association Test (IAT). The IAT made a lot of news late last year when results showed that 70 percent of those who took it harbor an unconscious preference for white people over black people. And no, I’m not talking about 70 percent of white people—I mean people of all races who took it, including African-Americans. Read more…

It’s Thursday, which means it’s time for another gratuitous cute kid pic. This one comes from reader Jenn F., who says: “These are my sons. Danny is 6, and Rome is 3. We adopted Danny from Ethiopia in 2007, and the boys have been fast friends since the day they met.”

Got cute kids? Send their pics to team@antiracistparent.com.

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Free to Be… You and Me is a record album and illustrated songbook for children, first released in November 1972, and later in 1974 as a television special, featuring songs and stories from celebrities (credited as “Marlo Thomas and Friends”). Using poetry, songs, and sketches, the basic concept was to salute values such as individuality, tolerance, and happiness with one’s identity; a major thematic message is that anyone, whether a boy or a girl, can achieve anything one wants.

The album has become a cult classic across the United States amongst many who were children in the 1970s.

Advertisement: Join Race Changers a community of people working towards an anti-racist future, one week at a time

This, I think, is an illustration of why conversations about race can get so darned muddy and difficult. We all come to them with different context. Morgan MacDougall said of her colleague’s response: “…her post has surprised me a little just with two points: 1) I wasn’t her ‘boss’ but a part-time writer at the time. It’s interesting to see the dynamic from her side. I feel embarrassed that she saw me in a position of power and I turned the situation around the way I did. 2) I was never, ever ‘peeved’ at her answer. I mentioned it as a light moment the next day when it came up as I made a PB & J sandwich. I saw the conversation completely different, which is another interesting thing I discovered.”

It can be tough to open up personal racial interactions to scrutiny. I greatly appreciate both of these women’s contributions to Anti-Racist Parent. Thanks, Jackie and Winter, for allowing us to leverage an awkward moment to spark more discussion about parenting and race.]

written by Winter Johnson

An adorable 3-year-old stared at my face for several seconds, looking at me with curiosity when his infamous question shattered the silence in my boss’ office.

 “Mommy, why is her face brown?”

To be honest, I almost burst out laughing. I am no stranger to questions about my race – when I tell people that I am African-American, they usually don’t believe me. I get curious looks from men from men and women of all ages, people who examine my light skin, almond-shaped eyes and long(ish) hair as if I am a walking oxymoron. But I never expected it from Jackie’s son.

I had scored my job at momlogic only six months earlier, and being one of the only people of color there, I was of course aware of my professional need to not appear as the “angry black girl.” Plus, this was my boss’ kid! All these facts that swirled through my head as Jackie and her husband awkwardly looked at me.

I didn’t know if she wanted me to answer. I didn’t know if she was going to answer – or worse, what she would say. Most of all, I didn’t know if little Jacob had ever seen a black person before – and that broke my heart.

But Jacob was looking at me still (as were his parents), so I leaned over and said, “Well, dear, people come in all different shapes and sizes and colors, and I am the color of peanut butter.” A neat way to sum up a really strange and sensitive situation – I even felt a little proud of my simple way of getting out of the scenario, until Jackie seemed peeved the next morning that her son compared to me to his favorite snack during dinner: a PB & J sandwich.

Due to the fact that she was my boss, I didn’t feel that I could give her the hard truth: that while Jacob has seen people of other races, maybe he hasn’t seen enough people of color to make a difference in his life, or to remember that some people are brown and others are like buttermilk and others are like well-cooked toast.  I’m a self-proclaimed foodie – don’t judge me for comparing skin color to my favorite snacks. 

I know that Jackie was blasted all over the blogosphere for her reaction to her son’s question, but my sentiment wasn’t one of anger. It was sorrow – that any child in the year 2008 would be raised in what I assume to be a very homogenous environment. I was blessed to have friends of all different colors from the time I was very young – I had chopsticks in one hand and an enchilada in the other. As an adult, I know that this has made me a well-rounded individual, ready to embrace those who are different than myself.

I just hope that all children (Jacob and Brady included) will have the same opportunity I did.

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I am constantly looking for images of girls defying the gender binary to teach my boys about equality.  I have recently started to talk to them about Emily Yeung.  In the above segment she is learning how to snowboard.  In many of the episodes she is learning all about the world and never do they focus on what she is able to do or what she should like based on gender.  Though these are just small spots shown in between cartoons, they send a powerful message.

The video I wanted to post is about her learning to play soccer but unfortunately it is not up on youtube.  She clearly states in the video that “sporting equipment should be made for boys or girls because girls can do the same things as boys can”.  Hearing her say that just made me want to cheer..

The Emily Yeung spots are a clear example of the ways in which the media can disturb social constructions, if the images are created by a progressive voice.  There are not enough examples of this, and instead our sons and daughters are over ridden with terrible female role models like the bratz dolls.  Even finding a cartoon or a youth geared program in which a girl is not obsessed with boys, make up, or looking pretty, is a rare phenomenon. 

I am further impressed with the fact that Emily is a bi racial child.  Race has never been a subject that the mini episodes have focused on, thereby allowing her visibility to speak for itself.  She is presented as a beautiful, precocious child who is interested in the world around her.  The high visibility of a bi racial child is also very uncommon in media where images are mostly reflective of the white supremacist state in which we live.

As Emily learns about snowboarding, farming and science etc., the audience learns right along side her.  What makes these small spots so beautiful is everything that is not said.  In an equal world, the profile of a young child like Emily Yeung would not be a special that is aired to teach diversity; it would simply stand for a young girl learning about the world.

Look, as parents, we all do the best we can. Sometimes our best isn’t good enough.

Read our post here.

The author of the MomLogic post, a reader of Anti-Racist Parent, wrote to us and asked for an opportunity to add context and clarity to the piece that drew so much ire. Below is what she wrote.]

written by Jackie Morgan MacDougall, originally posted to The Silver Whining

“Believe none of what you hear and half of what you see.”

I remember those words being uttered throughout my childhood by my dad. I thought he was the coolest, wisest guy in the world (still do) — where did he get these little gems to live by? He always had words of wisdom handy, like he kept them in his back pocket just waiting for one of his 13 kids to need it. It was not ’til years later I realized that statement is from the mouth of Ben Franklin and not Bob Morgan. Whatever - he’s still cool in my book.

That sentence has never rung more true than now. You see, words that were written — typed at my computer by my very own fingers — have left me as the focus, perhaps even a target, in a number posts and comments on the Internet, creating opinions of me that couldn’t be further from the truth. But I can’t even blame them.

A year ago, I wrote a piece for momlogic, entitled “Mommy, Why is Her Face Brown.” I told the story of how 3-year-old Jacob, on a visit to my office, asked that very question while chatting with a co-worker in my office. I wondered whether I should even write it… worrying about every word, questioning myself through every step of getting it up on the site. I didn’t once reveal the real me in it, instead opting to tell the story in a soft and delicate way — tying it all up in a pretty little bow at the end like it was a special episode of “Blossom.”

But that wasn’t my biggest mistake.

When Jacob asked that now infamous question, I turned to my co-worker to field it. A move that makes me cringe when I think about it, one of those moments I replay in my mind, continually feeling ashamed at the cowardly way I handled my own son wanting his mommy to help him work through something in his head. I dropped the ball entirely. My co-worker playfully addressed the question, talking about her gorgeous skin being a “shade of peanut butter,” something that would come up every afternoon during lunch when Jacob would bite into his PB&J sandwich.

But there were other things going on that day. I’m disappointed in myself that I didn’t share the complicated feelings swirling around in my head and heart. Expressing them and asking important questions could possibly have created conversation and not just evoked judgment and anger.

But I didn’t.

As anyone who knows us or has read my blog recently can tell you, Jacob was certainly not a kid who asked “why” very often. In fact, to this day, he has used that word less than a handful of times. You know those kids who are all, “why, why, why”? He’s not one of them. It’s one of the very things we go to early intervention for, clearly stated on his goals — “W questions.” And a year ago, I can honestly say he had not once uttered that word, his ability to express himself not sophisticated enough to communicate those thoughts.

When Jacob asked us why her face was brown, Jeff and I were dumbfounded. We can both recall wondering simultaneously “are you kidding us — where the hell did that come from?” There were so many reasons we were stunned, in addition to developmentally. We were in the process of waiting for Lucy to come home from Taiwan, something we discussed every single day in our house. We looked at pictures and talked about adoption and were lost in learning all there was about the Taiwanese culture. Jacob never uttered a word about his sister looking any different. We live in the LA area, we have friends and family members with different skin colors, backgrounds and nationalities. Never once was it something he mentioned and it’s not like we were pointing out to a 3-year-old, “notice how so-and-so looks different from you.” It wasn’t something we were afraid of, we just hadn’t arrived there yet.

During our adoption wait, I was obsessive. Not only were the attachment and bonding books devoured every night as they sat on my nightstand, I was doing everything I could to learn how to empathize with my daughter and some of the feelings she might have — how she could certainly see herself as “different.” I was emotionally raw and terrified to think my baby girl could be judged based on how she looked. Like any mother, I wanted to save her any pain, or at least minimize it. The way to do that (as much as I realistically could) was by educating myself. Prejudice and racism was at the front of my mind. I spent countless hours on adoptee blogs, reading articles and expert advice — doing what I thought was right by my daughter.

I can remember that day in my office so clearly. I remember the feeling of nausea that swept through my entire body. My initial reaction, the thing that drove me, was the fear that my son — my innocent, sweet, lovely son — had hurt someone I worked with, someone I respected, someone I cared about. What I never realized was that it was I who hurt her.

I missed a teachable moment that day. But the person who needed to be taught wasn’t Jacob. It was me. I was given the opportunity to provide my son his very first life lesson through conversation. I blew that chance. Because of this, those who have commented on momlogic have offered their own opinions of who I really am, wondering why my children are so isolated by the snooty white woman and kept from anyone who doesn’t share my same skin color. They question what I teach my children. They assume I am racist.

In all the time I’ve been blogging, I’ve most always been able to shake off negative comments, knowing that they come from others’ anger or ignorance — but I don’t want to do that now.

Because this time, it’s different. Some of them are actually right.

Recently, other blogs caught wind of the post and have written their own thoughts on it. While some are outright bashing me, others have created conversation. Anti-Racist Parent, a site I was introduced to while waiting for Lucy, is a place I have turned to on a number of occasions, reading posts and comments that have helped me through some of the challenges I’ve felt while waiting for and parenting my internationally adopted daughter. Now editor Tami Winfrey Harris was writing about me, expressing her feelings on my post, inviting four of ARP’s columnists to weigh in.

And today it’s Lisa Belkin of the NY Times using my experience as a topic of discussion, asking parents to share what they’ve taught their children about race.

I will be honest with you here. My first reaction to all of this was to curl up in the fetal position and feel sorry for myself. I wanted to beg momlogic to pull the post down. I wanted to pretend I never wrote it, hoping that the sites who linked to it would never get any hits. Then my feelings flipped and I wanted to comment on every single post, explaining that I’m not this evil person… I just made a mistake. Surely they couldn’t believe that I would be the clueless priviledged white woman that’s being judged all over the Web, could they?

I’m not going to do either of those things. I’m going to take ownership of the post and of my feelings. Because those who love me know who I really am and those who choose to see me as anything but my true self, I can’t change that. But I have learned a few lessons here. I need to continue to write based on my real feelings, tapping into my own original thoughts, my insecurities and fears, never losing site of being authentic. I will write the truth (according to me) and not what I think others want. I am human. I am flawed. And I don’t know about you but there’s a good chance I will screw up again in my lifetime. But I will continue to acknowledge my mistakes and hopefully grow from them. Because that’s all I can do.

by Carmen Van Kerckhove

What is it about the combination of race and sex that makes it so explosive? How is race getting in the way of your relationships without you even knowing it? What racial dynamics are driving the unconscious choices you’re making when it comes to your relationships?

I’m going to share that and much more on a FREE CALL happening THIS Wednesday, July 1, 2009 at 1:00 pm Eastern time.

“Love and Sex:
What’s Race Got to Do With It?”

Sign up to reserve your line for this FREE call today

On this lively, information-packed 60-minute call, you’ll learn:

• What “racial scripts” are and how they influence your interactions with others.
• Why an increase in the numbers of interracial couples is NOT evidence that racism is declining.
• What assumptions people are making about you right now based on the race of your partner.
• How these assumptions can interfere with everything from the friendships you form to your career prospects.
• Hidden influences you may not even be aware of and what to do about them.

Reserve your line for this FREE teleseminar now

Limited lines are available for this call, so you’ll want to make sure you reserve your spot right away.

Just click the link above, enter your information in the boxes on the page, and you’ll receive the complete call details via email.

We will record the call, but only people who have registered will receive instructions on how to download the audio recording. So even if you’re not sure if you can make the call live, register now!

This call is a content-rich preview to an exciting new program I’m launching called The Racialicious Experience. If you’re a fan of our sister blog, you won’t want to miss it!

Addicted to Race is New Demographic’s podcast about America’s obsession with race. Here’s a rundown of what you’ll find in this episode:

We dedicate this episode to the memory of Michael Jackson and explore the role that race played in his life and career. In what ways did his music break racial barriers? What did the changes in his physical appearance say about his relationship to his racial identity? Carmen Van Kerckhove and Arturo Garcia discuss.

Right-click here to download an MP3 of Addicted to Race Episode 108
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Click here to never miss an episode by subscribing to us in iTunes
or
click the button below to play it immediately

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About a month ago my husband came home with the December issue of Ebony magazine. I grew up seeing copies of Ebony around the house and so did he. But neither of us really read Ebony these days, so I was curious when I saw the top of the magazine peeping out from under a bag of apples.

I picked up the magazine, saw the whole cover and immediately understood why my husband bought it: Michael Jackson was on the cover.

My immediate reaction was to furtively hand it to him and hiss, “Hide that thing before the kids see it!”

He immediately understood me and tucked it into his bag.

This may seem like an odd reaction, but Michael Jackson has been a mythical figure in our household for a good part of this year.

It all began one day when I was watching VH1 Classic and Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” came on. My sons, ages four and six, were completely hypnotized. They stared at the TV with their mouths hanging open. And as the video played, they both wanted to know, “Mommy, who is THAT?”

“That’s Michael Jackson,” I replied.

“Michael Jackson,” they breathed reverently. And I knew how they felt. That era, the “Off the Wall” and “Thriller” era of Michael Jackson was simply amazing.

“I wanna see that again,” my youngest demanded. He didn’t care when I told him that I couldn’t just make the TV channel replay a video. And before long, his demands escalated into a tantrum and he got sent to timeout. Twice.

Later on I heard him saying, “I’m Michael Jackson,” and singing, “Beat it! Beat it!” to himself over and over again.

When my husband came home that night, the boys were eager to tell him about their latest obsession. And my husband was happy to dig through a closet and pull out a dusty VHS tape of ancient Michael footage. The tape had videos for songs like “Rock with You” and “Beat It” as well as footage from TV performances like “Motown 25” where Michael first did the Moonwalk.

But, by the time my boys began viewing the video for “Smooth Criminal”, they were confused. Those of us who’ve been alive during the past thirty years have witnessed Michael’s changes gradually: skin color lightening, hair straightening and facial features morphing. But for a couple of kids to see it within the blink of an eye, it’s really confusing.

Plus, in “Smooth Criminal”, Michael’s wearing a hat and his hair is longer than in the previous videos. And the skin tone on his hands isn’t the same as what you see in “Beat It”.

“Are you sure that’s Michael Jackson?” my six year-old queried. I could hear the disbelief in his voice.

“Yes, that’s Michael Jackson,” I answered. But I wanted to say, “Nope, it’s not,” and shut the tape off. I’d never imagined that I’d need to strategize around how to talk about Michael Jackson’s physical transformation. How to explain something that most of us adults are still trying to come to terms with?

“No. No, that’s not Michael Jackson, mommy,” my son insisted and his little brother agreed, proclaiming, “Michael Jackson looks like me!”

Both kids wanted me to immediately turn off “Smooth Criminal” and rewind back to their favorite, “Beat It”. I was happy to comply; happy to go back to a Michael who seemed to have already had some work done but still resembled a black man.

I’m not one to debate whether or not the man really has vitiligo and has chosen to go through a de-pigmentation process. But I do know that his hair becoming less kinky and his nose becoming a shadow of its former self has nothing to do with a skin disorder. Those things point to someone running from the hallmarks of his own blackness, and that’s not something I want my sons, with their fledgling black identities, to see.

And so in our home Michael Jackson’s appearance has been frozen in time. My sons have gone along these past few months thinking Michael still looks like he did in the early 1980s.

Inevitably though, my husband left the copy of Ebony sitting in the bathroom. My six year-old marched into the living room a couple of days ago holding it. He curiously asked me, “Mommy, who’s this?”

I felt a little like a parent who must finally tell their child that Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy don’t really exist.

“That’s Michael Jackson.”

My son started laughing. He found my response so funny that he called his four year-old brother into the room and said, “Mommy’s trying to trick us!” He pointed to the picture and continued, “Mommy said that’s Michael Jackson!”

“Well, it is Michael Jackson!” I answered back.

There was more uproarious laughter as my son proclaimed, “Mommy, that’s not Michael Jackson! Michael Jackson’s not a white lady!”

They laughed even harder and the little one fell to the floor and began to roll back and forth while clutching his tummy.

And it would have been funny if I’d been joking. I mean, who’d have thought that “Beat It” Michael would turn into the image that’s on the cover of Ebony?

I wished I could tell them that it was merely a mask and that an unaltered Michael with a proud, wide nose and beautiful kinky hair awaited them inside the pages of the magazine. But that’s not the case.

I reminded them of the “Smooth Criminal” video and how they didn’t believe me then and didn’t want to watch it. I told them that Michael just kept on changing himself after that.

Of course, they got really quiet and wanted to know why and how.

I made the decision not to bluntly tell my sons something like, “Well, because of the insidious effects of racism, Michael hated being black so he cut and pasted himself into what you see on the cover of this magazine.” I could already see they were shocked and I didn’t want them to start feeling like there was something wrong with them too.

So, I told them that Michael says he has a skin disease that makes him lose his skin color. They had a lot of questions about that, particularly around whether or not they would also get this disease.

And then they asked about the nose and hair. I told them that Michael does what a lot of people do when they’re unhappy with the way they look: He changes his appearance with makeup, wigs and surgery.

It became another opportunity to talk about how to love and appreciate the skin, hair and body that you’ve been born with.

My sons ended up feeling sorry for Michael and wondered if doctors could change him back to the way he was before. I told them that I didn’t think so.

My savvy eldest wistfully touched the magazine cover, sighing, “Do you think he wishes he could still be brown like me?”

I wonder if any of us will ever know the answer to that question but I told my sons what I hope in my heart: Yes.

Liz Dwyer lives in Los Angeles with her husband of eight years, Elarryo Bolden and her two sons, ages six and three. Her great sense of adventure and desire to learn about diverse cultures took her to Guangzhou, China where she taught English to third and fourth graders, picked up some Mandarin, and managed to get into seven bike accidents. Liz taught in Compton, CA for three years and later worked for national education non-profit Teach For America. Liz has written and reflected on the world around her for the past three years at Los Angelista’s Guide to the Pursuit of Happiness. She’s currently freelance writing and working on her first novel.

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The following post was written by ARP columnist Deesha Philyaw. It originally appeared on her blog, Mamalicious, as part of a “32 Days of Black History Blog Carnival.”]

*****************************************

I’m going to kick off our 32 Days with a complaint:

Whether it’s Black History Month or any other time of the year, it bugs me when black folks’ contributions in entertainment or sports are emphasized over our achievements in other fields like science, law, education, or public service.

And yet in our inaugural posts, Yvette and I are writing about black music. But that’s because it’s Friday, the day of the week we’ve chosen as our day for music, the soundtrack to our lives, yaddayaddayadda…

Before I get started, I want to point you in Yvette’s direction. She’s put together a cool playlist of “Protest and Social Commentary” songs. Raise your fist, and check it out.

Here, I want to talk about uber-entertainer, showman extraordinaire Michael Jackson.

My fellow Anti-Racist Parent columnist, Liz Dwyer, blogged about trying (in vain) to hide the above magazine from her young sons, who are fans of Thriler-era Michael Jackson. Liz’s boys had a hard time believing that Michael Jackson had become “a white lady.”

I’m right there with you, kids. I wish I could have frozen Michael in time, from about 1968 to 1986.

If I squint really hard, I can remember Michael before Bubbles and “Blanket”, before the Peter Pan syndrome and the suspect sleepovers, before the sham marriages and money troubles. I choose to remember the icon, if not the flawed man, who sang:

“Let me fill your heart with joy and laughter…”

I remember The Jackson 5 cartoon (vaguely), and doing the robot in my grandparents living room to “Dancing Machine.” I divided my elementary school crush efforts between Michael Jackson and Rodney Allen Rippey.

(Actress Kim Fields immortalized her crush with the song “Dear Michael.” Remember that?)

“Damned indecision…and cursed pride…”

Seeing Michael on the cover of the Off the Wall album brought me back down to Earth. Michael was no longer the little brother-frontman for The Jackson 5. He was a grown man, making music for grown folks. At 8-years-old, I had never known a lover’s rejection, but that didn’t stop me from belting out “She’s Out of My Life” like I knew.

“Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” is one of about 5 songs that will get me on the dance floor no matter who’s watching, no matter if I’m the only one dancing.

“There’ll be no darkness tonight…”

I don’t have anything to say about the genius of Thriller that hasn’t been said fifty-leven times already, so I’ll share a story:

1983, 7th grade, my best friend Iyana*’s attic bedroom. There are ten of us there, ranging in age from 9 to 15. Five boys, five girls. Two twin beds. You do the math. With the lights out, the nine-year-olds played DJ, spinning “Lady in My Life” between giggles, a few dozen times (this was before CD’s and track repeat).

Today, the parent in me cringes at that memory.

“Don’t turn around…cuz you might see my cry…”

In 8th grade, I owned the 45 of “Farewell My Summer Love.” Years later, as an adult, I could not figure out why a song featuring a pubescent Michael Jackson would have been in heavy rotation on the radio when Michael was nearly 30-years-old. Wikipedia to the rescue: Turns out, the single appeared on an album of the same name which was released in 1984 as a “lost” MJ solo album. The release had originally been slated for a decade earlier.

Neil Armstrong who? Michael Jackson’s first moonwalk on the Motown 25 special had my friend Alicia and me screaming and crying on the phone until we were hoarse.

Things got sketchy for Michael and me after Thriller. I preferred Weird Al’s “I’m Fat” parody to anything on the Bad album. My crush was officially over.

Michael next popped on my music radar with”You are Not Alone.” Nice song. Too bad about that creepy video with Lisa Marie.

As Michael became less and less black-identified physically, I became less and less interested in his music. According to bigger fans than me, Michael’s vitiligo diagnosis is documented, so with all due respect, I’ll leave the issue of his pigmentation aside. That said, the extensive plastic surgery is fair game for criticism. Forget black or white. Michael ceased to look fully human, and his eccentricities eventually overshadowed his enormous talent. The persistent pedophilia charges didn’t help matters either.

I consider Michael’s surgeries a form of mutilation, the epitome of self-hatred. And he hates his dad too. The sketch comedy show In Living Color joked about Joe Jackson’s controlling ways, but according to some reports , Joe’s abuse drove Michael to plastic surgery to erase those facial features that connect him to his father. Maybe it’s not so much that Michael hates being black; maybe he hates being his father’s son.

By sad comparison, the DeBarge family, another talented, tormented clan was also terrorized by a domineering, violent father (allegedly). Remember when El was hyped to be the next Michael Jackson? Instead of plastic surgery, the DeBarges turned instead to substance abuse to ease the pain.

But back to Michael.

MJ reminds us that race is everything and nothing. Changes in his appearance aren’t to blame for how his star has fallen. He has his personal demons to thank for that. But race does matter in that he hasn’t changed his appearance randomly. He hasn’t had surgery to make his nose broader, his lips fuller, for example. By all appearances, literally, Michael Jackson doesn’t want to be look be black anymore. But this begs the questions: What does it mean to be black? And who gets to decide?

Instead of tackling big–and on some level, useless–questions like that, it’s easier to just say thanks for the memories, and for the music.

*Some names changed to protect my ears from hearing people fuss at me about their privacy.

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A few years ago I was at a conference to deliver a workshop. During the break, a man came up to me and asked me what topic I’d be speaking on.

“Interracial relationships,” I replied.

As soon as the words came out of my mouth, his whole manner changed.

He started leering, and asked me in a low, suggestive tone, “Is this based on personal experience?”

Actually my workshop was all about debunking sexual myths and destroying racial stereotypes. But the minute he heard me say the word “interracial,” all he could think about was sex.

What is it about the combination of race and sex that makes it so explosive? How is race getting in the way of your relationships without you even knowing it? What racial dynamics are driving the unconscious choices you’re making when it comes to your relationships?

I’m going to share that and much more on a FREE CALL happening on Wednesday, July 1, 2009 at 1:00 pm Eastern time.

“Love and Sex:
What’s Race Got to Do With It?”

Sign up to reserve your line for this FREE call today

On this lively, information-packed 60-minute call, you’ll learn:

• What “racial scripts” are and how they influence your interactions with others.
• Why an increase in the numbers of interracial couples is NOT evidence that racism is declining.
• What assumptions people are making about you right now based on the race of your partner.
• How these assumptions can interfere with everything from the friendships you form to your career prospects.
• Hidden influences you may not even be aware of and what to do about them.

Reserve your line for this FREE teleseminar now

Limited lines are available for this call, so you’ll want to make sure you reserve your spot right away.

Just click the link above, enter your information in the boxes on the page, and you’ll receive the complete call details via email.

We will record the call, but only people who have registered will receive instructions on how to download the audio recording. So even if you’re not sure if you can make the call live, register now!

This call is a content-rich preview to an exciting new program I’m launching called The Racialicious Experience. If you’re a fan of our sister blog, you won’t want to miss it!

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It’s Thursday, which means it’s time for another gratuitous cute kid pic. Lynn S. shared this shot of adorable Izzy, 5, and Sadie, 1.

Got cute kids? Send their pics to team@antiracistparent.com.

To close out APA Heritage/History Month, I want to give you the text of a speech by Jennifer Hyashida, which she made to City Hall in NYC. I know Jennifer–she is an AMAZING scholar-activist. Her words are truly inspiration and the perfect note to end APA Heritage Month:

2009 APA Heritage Month Celebration

Wednesday, May 13th, 2009

City Council Chambers, City Hall, New York City

Jennifer Hayashida

I am here as an educator at Hunter College, where I have been the Program Coordinator and Acting Director of Asian American Studies for the past two years. So, here’s the good news: about 30% of Hunter’s student body self-identifies as Asian or Asian American. And, the entire CUNY system serves more than 40,000 Asian American students – taken together, that’s as many students as there are enrolled at most large state schools, like one of the larger Penn State campuses, or UCLA.

But, it’s not just about the numbers: Asian American Studies is about more than just serving percentages of Asian American students – it is about how Asian American history is American history, Asian American experience is American experience.

To list just a fraction of what we do in Asian American Studies classes at Hunter, we study the relationships between first generation parents and their second-generation daughters and sons – in other words, we study the lives of you many of you in this room. We look at novels and poetry by Asian American writers; we look at how what happens in Pakistan impacts Asian American communities right here in New York City.

To sum it up, we look at events and experiences from U.S. history that are frequently overlooked or given just one page in the high school history textbook. These big gaps in what students learn lead to gaps in how they experience themselves as Asian Americans – just that term, “Asian American,” means that we insist that we can be both Asian AND American, that we do not have to choose between being foreign and being the invisible model minority. We began this struggle 40 years ago at San Francisco State College, and we still have a lot of work ahead of us.

Right now, I frequently have students who enter my classes with no idea about the 1882 Chinese Exclusion Act, WWII Internment of Japanese Americans, or hate crimes against Filipino men who wanted to marry white women in the 30s. Students don’t know that Chinese Exclusion is a precedent for the Patriot Act, that Japanese Internment predates post-9/11 detention and deportation of South Asians. Students don’t know that Depression-era anti-miscegenation legislation against Asian Americans is currently being examined as part of the legal debate around gay marriage.

Asian American history and experience – our “heritage” – is a cornerstone of American history and identity, but right now it is buried and inaccessible to most of the students, Asian American or not, of our city.

This knowledge is especially vital to our young people who are arriving as first- or 1.5- generation immigrants, who find themselves between cultures and identities, and who are struggling to find a place where they don’t have to pick between being foreigners or being invisible. Learning about their ancestors’ experiences gives them a foothold in America. And, just as importantly, learning about Asian American history can build bridges between Asian Americans and other communities of color.

It is our responsibility to advocate for the rights of our daughters, sons, nieces, nephews, cousins, and, for that matter, fathers and grandmothers, to be able to attend schools in this city and expect to learn about APA heritage, the heritage we are here today to celebrate. That way, we can celebrate the triumphs of people like Fred Korematsu, who ultimately received justice from the Supreme Court, fifty years after he was jailed for refusing to be interned. Or we can celebrate the 1965 Immigration Act, which eliminated the restrictions on immigration from Asia and made it possible for many of us to be here today. Most importantly, we can then truly celebrate the everyday accomplishments of the communities we live in today, because we will have a better understanding of where we come from, the obstacles we have triumphed over, and the work that is left before us.

[Tip of the hat to Angry Asian Man]

(H/T to Bianca Laureano, ARP’s newest columnist. More on Bianca soon.)

Advertisement: New Demographic: anti-racism training workshops that mobilize people to work towards an anti-racist future

Update: link to MP3 is at the bottom of the post. Thanks Jan!

Addicted to Race is New Demographic’s podcast about America’s obsession with race. Here’s a rundown of what you’ll find in this episode:

Can we tell an Iranian woman’s politics from the looseness of her headscarf? Why is the way a black woman wears her hair still such a political choice? What’s driving the popularity of white-men-behaving-badly movies, such as The Hangover? Is there such a thing as race-approved white guy? Carmen Van Kerckhove, Tami Winfrey Harris, and Latoya Peterson discuss.

Click here to listen

(We’re trying out a new format using BlogTalkRadio and I haven’t quite figured out how to embed the player or get these new episodes to post to iTunes. Please bear with us as we figure it out!)

Right-click here to download an MP3 of Addicted to Race Episode 107
or
Click here to never miss an episode by subscribing to us in iTunes
or
click the button below to play it immediately

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This past Friday and Saturday I attended a fantastic festival called the Mixed Roots Film & Literary Festival. The purpose was to celebrate the experiences of multiracial/multicultural people through film, readings, workshops and live performances.

My kids and my husband tagged along, and my hubby commented that he didn’t think he’d been in a room with as many half black, half white people in a LONG time, if ever. I joked with him that we’d be nice and not jump him, but if he saw us throwing up secret hand signs to each other, he better run!

Really, there are no secret mixed people hand signs, and there were also people there who were part Asian and Latino. I have a LOT of thoughts as a result of the festival, so I think I’ll tell you a little about them every day this week.

First off, yours truly helped present a workshop at the conference on Friday along with my fellow fabulous bloggers, Susan Ito, and our ringleader, Jason Sperber.

Our workshop was called Parent-Blogging at the Crossroads of Race and Family and it was essentially about how parenting isn’t just about picking out a stroller or deciding how much TV time your child is going to have. Parenting is also about being able to talk to your children about racism and support them when they do come across racism in their lives.

I never gave a damn what kind of stroller I pushed my sons in. My requirements? Safe, inexpensive, not too big, rated well by Consumer Reports. But I’ll tell you, from the time I found out I was pregnant, I thought about what I’d do if someone else’s child called my child the “n-word”… especially since beating the other child’s behind wasn’t an option I could pursue without jail time.

In the workshop we talked about how in the parent blogging community there often isn’t the acknowledgement that talking about race is also a parenting issue. Parents of color know this via experience, and they see their children face both direct and indirect racism. And if you’re a parent of a biracial child, you have a whole other layer of race-related things to talk to your child about.

I didn’t bring this up during the workshop, but I over the weekend I thought about some of the identity-based questions I grappled with before I’d even hit kindergarten:

1) What am I?
2) How come I have to say I’m black if my skin is so yellow? Why can’t I just say I’m tan or peach when someone asks me what I am?
3) Why do the those kids keep calling me Oreo and zebra?
4) If Daddy’s family is still alive, how come they never come around? Do they not like me because I’m black?

Anyway, my point is that parents of biracial kids also have to figure out how they’re going to address these kinds of questions in a thoughtful manner that builds their child’s self-esteem without making ALL the self-esteem come from racial identity.

I find myself wondering how often do most white American parents talk with their kids about race issues, whether that’s coming up with ways to build race unity, or how to respond when another child tells a racist joke or calls another kid a racial slur? Do white parents tell their middle school boys what to do if they’re with a black friend and the cops pull them over?

In my heart there’s a whisper that says that people don’t want to talk about race with their kids because of fear. They’re afraid they’ll say the wrong thing, or maybe they’re afraid they’ll have to take a closer look at their own heart.

I know I’ve had to. I have a white dad, a black mom and I still see color and have racist and/or prejudiced attitudes. I really believe that if you grow up in America, you’re racist whether you want to admit it or not. Maybe you’re not jumping up to join some sort of separatist group, but the racism is seeped into our very foundations so none of us is fully immune. I suppose the first step is to admit it and then you can move forward from there to heal yourself.

In any case, no one booed our workshop, thankfully, but wasn’t till it was over that I really stepped back and thought about where I was: I was at a conference where everywhere I looked, there were people who smiling and laughing, and they almost all happened to be either “mixed” or half of an interracial couple.

I’m curious about your experience: How do you talk to your kids about race, or, if you don’t have kids yet, how do you plan to talk to them about racism? What would you say parents of color need to say to their children about race nowadays? And what do white parents need to say?

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