On Thanksgiving Day, while in Philadelphia at the in-laws, my husband's 'why black movies have to be so trite' complaints lost out to my 'give Tyler Perry a break' so that we watched Meet the Browns. The movie is not in the running for Perry's best movie, but it was just good enough for holiday brain vegetation - until it started working my nerves.
The movie's pseudo-modern day knight-in-shining-armor story was at best humorous, at worst condescending. The main character played by Angela Bassett is a single mother struggling to pay her bills and care for her three children. Her situation is exacerbated when she loses her job. Then she meets a man. Suddenly, there is no more mention of a job, her problems seem to inexpicably dissipate.
I sounded off at the television set. The assertion that the answer to all a woman's problems is a man - even a great man - struck me as archaic and socially detached from today's woman. According to every statistic available, including those from the National Marriage Project at Rutgers University, more and more women are choosing to live their lives single. There are no spinsters or old maids anymore.
When my grandmother got married at age 30, 65 years ago, she almost did not have a choice. I am sure my grandfather was handsome and charming, but her younger sisters were already married and she was likely hearing the whispers. Today, my single girlfriends in their 30s and 40s date, travel, support themselves and live full, happy lives. None of them have sworn off men, or vow to never marry; but they are not waiting for a man to make them whole.
Today's enlightened woman can enjoy a satisfying relationship with a man of her choosing, because she can - not because she needs to.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
I married my father
He could also be your father...or any middle-aged Caribbean man.
When my husband and I started dating as teenagers, my mother regularly reminded him that I hated housework. He, being a man of the 1990s, espoused equality among the sexes and his mother's domestic training. I was grateful for that since I would never have married a man who expected me to cook and clean while he put up his feet in front of the television. Imagine my horror when I realized that I, in fact, hold almost sole responsibility for taking care of our home and children. I certainly believe my husband meant well, but alas it seems genetics and cultural conditioning are winning.
My opinions about Jamaican men were formed pretty early and I still can find no reason to object to the 'whe mi dinna deh?' jokes or stereotypes. I grew up with a caricature of the 'typical' Jamaican man just across the street from my house. My neighbor - aptly named for the ill-tempered Sesame Street character - lived in a house full of women who he required - often loudly - to wait on him hand and foot. My father, then step-father, were never as demanding or as dependent; but neither of them tripped over themselves to wash dishes or hold a broom.
As I talk to my girlfriends about their West Indian parents I realize that while things have gotten better with later generations, there are more than a few husbands/boyfriends who are throwbacks of their fathers and grandfathers. Despite higher education and the airs of sophistication, these 30-something and 40-something men still live oblivious to dishes in the sink, laundry needing to be folded, and dirty floors. My husband will fly into rage of righteous indignation if I suggested he does not help around the house. He will quickly point to the last time he loaded or unloaded the dishwasher, even as he ignored the dirty stove and the sticky floors. Friends leave their husbands at home with children, fully expecting that the house or the children will be in dire need of cleaning when they return. Doctors' appointments, teacher conferences, project due dates - few seem to register with men as part of their responsibilities.
I say all the time that I should be able to sue my husband for breech of contract - but then again I probably wouldn't win. He is after all, really not responsible for his lack of action...it is just the West Indian way.
When my husband and I started dating as teenagers, my mother regularly reminded him that I hated housework. He, being a man of the 1990s, espoused equality among the sexes and his mother's domestic training. I was grateful for that since I would never have married a man who expected me to cook and clean while he put up his feet in front of the television. Imagine my horror when I realized that I, in fact, hold almost sole responsibility for taking care of our home and children. I certainly believe my husband meant well, but alas it seems genetics and cultural conditioning are winning.
My opinions about Jamaican men were formed pretty early and I still can find no reason to object to the 'whe mi dinna deh?' jokes or stereotypes. I grew up with a caricature of the 'typical' Jamaican man just across the street from my house. My neighbor - aptly named for the ill-tempered Sesame Street character - lived in a house full of women who he required - often loudly - to wait on him hand and foot. My father, then step-father, were never as demanding or as dependent; but neither of them tripped over themselves to wash dishes or hold a broom.
As I talk to my girlfriends about their West Indian parents I realize that while things have gotten better with later generations, there are more than a few husbands/boyfriends who are throwbacks of their fathers and grandfathers. Despite higher education and the airs of sophistication, these 30-something and 40-something men still live oblivious to dishes in the sink, laundry needing to be folded, and dirty floors. My husband will fly into rage of righteous indignation if I suggested he does not help around the house. He will quickly point to the last time he loaded or unloaded the dishwasher, even as he ignored the dirty stove and the sticky floors. Friends leave their husbands at home with children, fully expecting that the house or the children will be in dire need of cleaning when they return. Doctors' appointments, teacher conferences, project due dates - few seem to register with men as part of their responsibilities.
I say all the time that I should be able to sue my husband for breech of contract - but then again I probably wouldn't win. He is after all, really not responsible for his lack of action...it is just the West Indian way.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
My son the president
I woke up this morning. I woke up my five-year-old son; got him fed and ready for school. As we moved about the house, I casually as possible mentioned that Barack Obama would be the next president of the United States. He was excited - primarily because he claimed he had called it. We walked quietly to the corner to meet his school bus. I felt like I should say something poignant to him, but I could think of nothing. I could only squeeze his hand a little tighter than usual.
I had not expected anything to look different this morning, and of course nothing did. The streets in my development were quiet, a few school children were walking to meet friends, a few cars were driving out of their garages, and there was evidence that garbage trucks had passed by a few moments earlier. But I certainly felt different. I realized that the little American-born boy walking beside me will grow up with a different view of the world than the generation of Americans before him. He will grow up much like his parents did in Jamaica - not seeing any limits to his potential, or seeing the color of his skin as anything but biology.
I have sense enough to know that the election of my choice for president does not automatically improve the economy, end the war in Iraq, provide affordable and comprehensive healthcare to every one that needs it, or give every child access to their full potential. I know that the election of the country's first black president, while monumental, will not immediately erase the history or presence of racism. I voted for Senator Obama because I believe in his abilities and see sense in his plans for the country; but I know the country is in a crisis and it will be an uphill battle to right all that is wrong. President-Elect Obama himself said that correcting the country's course may take more than a year, or even a term.
While we wait for the fiscal improvements to the country, I am overjoyed at the steps we have made as a nation. My toddler boys will come to believe that nothing is out of their reach. For that I am grateful. At the end of President Obama's first term in office they will be 8 and 9 years old. They may never know that there was ever a question that a black man could be president. For that I am elated. Now their racial heritage of kings and queens, engineers of the pyramids of Egypt and the beginning of all mankind will not seem so far removed. For that I am proud.
I had not expected anything to look different this morning, and of course nothing did. The streets in my development were quiet, a few school children were walking to meet friends, a few cars were driving out of their garages, and there was evidence that garbage trucks had passed by a few moments earlier. But I certainly felt different. I realized that the little American-born boy walking beside me will grow up with a different view of the world than the generation of Americans before him. He will grow up much like his parents did in Jamaica - not seeing any limits to his potential, or seeing the color of his skin as anything but biology.
I have sense enough to know that the election of my choice for president does not automatically improve the economy, end the war in Iraq, provide affordable and comprehensive healthcare to every one that needs it, or give every child access to their full potential. I know that the election of the country's first black president, while monumental, will not immediately erase the history or presence of racism. I voted for Senator Obama because I believe in his abilities and see sense in his plans for the country; but I know the country is in a crisis and it will be an uphill battle to right all that is wrong. President-Elect Obama himself said that correcting the country's course may take more than a year, or even a term.
While we wait for the fiscal improvements to the country, I am overjoyed at the steps we have made as a nation. My toddler boys will come to believe that nothing is out of their reach. For that I am grateful. At the end of President Obama's first term in office they will be 8 and 9 years old. They may never know that there was ever a question that a black man could be president. For that I am elated. Now their racial heritage of kings and queens, engineers of the pyramids of Egypt and the beginning of all mankind will not seem so far removed. For that I am proud.
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