A great example of how success is not always the ultimate goal, sometimes it’s just trying.
Category Archives: Interesting articles
I date white guys. I marry them too, (and divorce them as well unfortunately). It wasn’t any great plan of mine it just happens, repeatedly. Honestly, I would date any race or ethnic group, I’m not picky. But I like geek boys, I find intelligence sexy, and most of the time when I find a black guy that fits both of those categories, they are either a) not interested in me or b) live too far away. I’m not going to sit in a corner waiting for my “black prince charming” to come along. If like something, I’m going for it. Well in my usual shy, dorky, and extremely socially awkward way.
I belong to some interracial relationship groups on facebook. Even 24 years after going to prom with a white guy I still find there is a lot of opposition to interracial relationships. Come on it’s 2013 people, get with the program. On one of these groups I follow, I Support and Encourage Interracial Relationships (go follow it and then come back) there was a really interesting article posting this morning. It’s the true story of Elinor Powell Albert, a black nurse, and Frederick Albert, a German POW, who met in a World War II POW camp in Florence, Arizona. They fall in love, marry, and have children. The story details their struggles and challenges of creating and maintaining an interracial family. I think the article does a great job of covering the different types of discrimination interracial couples face, be it governmental, societal, or familial. Not to mention the non-minority partner way witness first hand the discrimination and hate that their partner receives. This may be very difficult because often they are not receiving the same treatment and haven’t had to experience it before.
I remember when I first got engaged to my ex-husband. When he asked me to marry him, the first words out of my mouth was, “Are you going to tell your parents?” Me and my ex had had this odd friendship occasionally sort of dating thing going on for years but his family, and honestly most people, didn’t have a clue. Added to the fact that he had already relayed to me some of their misinformed opinions of black people, I wasn’t expecting his family to be thrilled. Unfortunately, for the most part, I was correct. There was at least one threat of disowning him from another family member. We weren’t allowed to tell other family members and family friends, his parents wanted to “break the news” themselves. There was no engagement party (which would’ve been nice just so people would get to met the bride before the big day), no rehearsal dinner, and personally I think they only showed up because it would’ve looked bad if they didn’t. Okay maybe I’m being harsh but that was how it felt. My family, I think they were surprised I was getting married to anyone. I really never dated and I exuded social awkwardness. If they had any problems with the groom being white, I never heard it. Our marriage lasted 5 years and through that time there were the looks, the stares, the rare commentary. This was over a decade ago, I like to think things have gotten better.
I’ve been with my current partner (I’m not going down the aisle ever again) for 13 years. I really haven’t felt we personally hassled about the interracial nature of our relationship. And as I said before I would like to think it’s because things have gotten better. Unfortunately, I think it’s just people have moved to the anonymousness of the internet. I’ve read such horrible things said about “race-mixing” from both the white and the black community. I do believe it’s harder on black men than women because the media likes to perpetuate that black men as an endangered species so everyone is precious for the continuing of the black race. So dating outside your race is almost considered genocide. If the same things were said about white men we would be making comparisons to Hitler. Of course there is a more subtle message that black women are also responsible for continuing the black race as well. I guess since I essentially can’t have children I’m off the hook on who I can be with.
But seriously be with who you want. If that person makes your heart flutter, your knees weak, occupies your mind day and night, screw what their race, religion or gender is. If they want you and you want them, don’t let society tell you what to do. (Barring of course legalities regarding age and the morality issue of infidelity)
Now go read the article, it’s really lovely and educational. How can you not read an article with this excerpt as part of it; ‘”I know the story of how they met,” said Chris Albert, 59, the youngest son of Elinor and Frederick Albert. “It was in the officers’ mess hall, and my father was working in the kitchen. He kind of boldly made his way straight for my mother and said: ‘You should know my name. I’m the man who’s going to marry you.’ “
I was reading this article today called Eight things I Learned from 50 Naked People. The author, Kate Bertolotta, talks about things she observed about people while she was a massage therapy student. Reading her observations made me think about the time I had been a massage therapist eons ago (we are talking almost two decades folks). I come from a family that is not very touchy. By touchy I mean they don’t hug a lot. Not saying they are mean or anything but I didn’t grow up around huggers. Once I was in high school I joined a youth peace group and let’s just say I was definitely a hugger when I graduated. But I still wasn’t comfortable with skin. I certainly hated mine, I grew up and out fast and had stretch mark reminders everywhere. Mixed with moles, scars, and other imperfections and I tried not to think about my skin much. I was also fairly uncomfortable about seeing too much of anyone else’s skin as well. But maybe that’s just being a teenager.
So how did I end up becoming a massage therapist, where all you do is rub your hands over miles and miles of skin you ask? See at this point in my life I was still very much a hippie child and convinced myself I wanted to be a healer. However, my memorization of herbs and their uses sucked so instead I went for massage. At first I just kind just zoned out while I went through the motions. But I think it was the time that I had to spend an entire HOUR on one arm and shoulder that I fell in love with skin. The client had pulled something really bad and she didn’t want me to touch anything else, just make the shoulder and arm feel better. Well in the swedish method I had learned you only had five minutes worth of technique to work with, so after going through it a couple of times I knew it wasn’t going to work. So I started gently poking and prodding her muscles to figure out why this shoulder wouldn’t let go of the tension. Along the way I feel in love, with skin that is. I noticed every little freckle, the beautiful way her skin tanned and the little spots that didn’t quite match. I noticed how the skin had a slightly different texture where the muscles were tight, from being stretched no doubt, her muscles were really wound tightly. If I had not fell in love I probably would’ve never made it through that session or the next almost year of massage. The pay sucked (I split about 50/50 with the owner and we weren’t that busy most days) and my back was really starting to give me fits. But the benefits of getting to explore miles and miles of skin without being considered a pervert was worth it.
Have you ever touched a older persons skin? It feels like silky tissue paper, so delicate yet so strong. Scars are interesting too, they tell stories. So does the places you hold tension. I’ve heard more than one person say they don’t like their freckles and I want to tell them that they are so lucky to have them. I have fairly bumpy skin. I’m not sure why, it’s either hundreds of little raised moles or ingrown hairs. I’m not exactly pleased with them, there are days I truly wish for one color even skin tone, but then I run my fingers over my bumpy arms and remember that I couldn’t feel those with smooth skin.
The most interesting skin I’ve ever seen was during one massage session. I move the sheet from this man’s leg to reveal a hip to ankle port wine birthmark. It was sort of a washed out cherry color and only covered half his leg, the other half was near porcelain white. It was the most fascinating thing I had ever seen. I admit I gawked. The client assured me it didn’t hurt him and it wasn’t contagious. I think he thought I was afraid to touch him. I wasn’t, if anything I couldn’t wait to delve in, but I was also mentally going through my training to remember if there was any special precautions with this type of birthmark like there is with varicose veins.
In the end it was one of the most enjoyable massages I ever gave. Not just because I got to see the birthmark but because the gentleman was very comfortable in his skin. He had to be in his 60s at least and told me jokes about how he had used the birthmark to get out of things. Apparently it kept him out of the war (I can’t remember WWII or Korea). Maybe that’s something that comes with age, not being ashamed of the skin we are in.
Okay now that you’ve heard what a skin admirer has to say about it. Go read her observations and enjoy the skin you’re in.
Roger Ebert will truly be missed. I admit I really didn’t start appreciating Ebert until following him on facebook and subscribing to his newsletter. I had watched Siskel and Ebert occasionally when I was younger but just got tired of arguing with the TV. Whenever I tuned in he seemed to be hating a movie I liked.
But people kept sharing things he would say on facebook and as I read about his struggles with cancer, his love of his wife Chaz, I began to really like him.
Now I find myself becoming what in the past I detested, a movie reviewer. It wasn’t planned that way but when you challenge yourself to watch a movie a day you can’t help but have an opinion.
I’ve gone back and read many of Ebert’s reviews on his website hoping to gain by osmosis even a fraction of his talent for the written word. It’s easy to heap praise, it’s hard to say something is truly trash. It requires confidence and courage, something Mr. Ebert had in abundance. So out of all the articles I saw I decided to share this one. Hope there are none of your favorite films mentioned.
I’m nowhere near where she on self-acceptance, but I loved what she had to say. It’s a shame that loving yourself the way your are is considered such a radical thing.
Despite all of your hard work over the years, I still can’t seem to kick the habit of loving my body. I know I’m supposed to feel bad about myself because I’m kind of fat and out of shape, with the soft floppy tummy of a middle-aged woman who had a baby. I know that during my pregnancy I wasn’t supposed to put the baby’s well being before the maintenance of my pre-pregnancy figure. At least I should have had the decency to have a tummy tuck afterward, which I neglected to do (plus my homebirth midwife did not offer that service).
Read the rest here – Dear Media: don’t feel bad that I love my body.
I’ve never read L. Frank Baum’s stories but I’m a fan of the movies based on them and well this looks really nicely drawn. Will have to try and get a copy on Free Comic Book Day.