My wife and I pulled up to our apartment complex and witnessed a new marketing strategy on the gate entrance. “Come check out our new colors!” was printed across the top of a sign, underneath was a happy, hugging and smiling African-American couple. Full disclosure, I’m black, and from the driver’s seat I was sitting in, I couldn’t help but instantly see obvious irony of this sign. Maybe this was intentional, and the property was genuinely proud of the diversity they’ve achieved with their occupants’ “colors”. But I suspect this is the product of a marketing team in a room with what they thought was an awesome idea devoid of a perspective that would have prompted someone to raise their hand and say “You do know it looks like you’re referring to black people as colored, right?”. An innocuous sign to them, could be recklessly insensitive to me. Continue reading “The Danger in Homogenous Community”
This time last year my wife and I were volleying potential baby names for our unborn daughter. Google provided a never ending flow of suitors, most of which were rejected for one reason or another. We operated on 3 basic principles when filtering through the possibilities:
1. The name can’t be shared by someone we know
We decided that the name of our child could not be shared by someone in our circle of friends. If someone close to you gives your name to their child it means one of 2 things, either that person admires you in a very highly/obsessive way or they don’t see you remaining friends in the foreseeable future. Either way, it has immense potential to strangify a relationship.
When I sat down to write a Mother’s Day card for my wife, the only thing I could think of was really bad tattoos. Let me explain, one of the wonders (and dangers) of cable TV is that one gets an exposure to things they wouldn’t ordinarily see. Such was the case last week, when my wife and I found ourselves inexplicably wooed into a trance by a show that revolved around America’s worst tattoos and their stories. We saw a really large man with the Pillsbury dough boy tattooed on his stomach that complained about people putting their fingers in his belly button, a man with a picture of his black best friend depicted by a gorilla gangster tattoo on his back (he managed to inadvertently hit two racially charged references with one stone), and a man with two pictures of ex-girlfriends on his calf (bad idea) that he opted to have covered with another tattoo of 2 elephants with facial hair (perhaps a worse idea). Continue reading “My wife, mothering free hand”
So I guess the 1st post on a blog is usually spent writing about why the creator decided to create the blog in the first place, but I want to do something a little different. In the name of full transparency, I decided that instead of writing my reasons for starting this blog I’ll write 4 of the main reasons I came up with for NOT writing a blog. Hopefully airing out my objections to my own blog will allow me to move past all the reasons I don’t think I should be writing these words right now, as well as preemptively disarm any critics on the prowl. Continue reading “Why I shouldn’t be writing a blog”