For my Black moms - I'm so thankful you're here.
Before anything else, here are two self-care resources for you:
For my fellow non-Black moms: thanks for the feedback!
"I’ve needed this all week without knowing it."
"I had planned to not engage in anything 'hard' outside of just caring for a 3 year old and a newborn without the usual help of friends and family. This past week shocked me out of that privilege bubble."
"I appreciate as always you hitting the target - it always feels like you're talking to me specifically."
(Psst...If you missed what they're talking about, read
3 ways moms make great allies HERE.)
Last week I promised I'd be back to show you how to zap overwhelm and take steps toward what matters most.
This phrase kept coming to me as my mind raced last week, feeling frantic about what my response would be to anti-Black racism.
"Pray as you can, not as you can't"
It means to pray however is realistic for you at the moment, not in some super-holy, totally undistracted, hours-on-your-knees way if you can't do that.
And I think it applies here, wherever you are in your journey to antiracism.
Do what you CAN -
Yes, I would like to unearth all the ways I'm complicit in White supremacy, become the best ally, fearlessly call my representatives, and embrace my role as an Asian-American in the fight for justice - but realistically? That's incredibly overwhelming and can only be learned over time.
Do what you can.
Just one thing.
Then the next.
Then the next.
And slowly become the change you want to see.
Wondering what your next one thing is?
Click HERE for one way to become the change you want to see.
First, if you're a Black mom - I'm so glad you're here. Before anything else, here are two self-care resources for you:
The rest of this post is for my fellow non-Black moms.
Maybe like me, you've been grappling with what to do, say and feel in light of the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor and George Floyd, and countless others.
To be honest, for several days, I froze.
If you've followed me for any length of time, you've probably seen how much I love getting outside for exercise.
To know that Ahmaud Arbery was followed and killed for doing the same thing stopped me in my tracks. How could I proceed with business as usual knowing that the simple pleasures I recommend to my audience are not so simple for Black folks?
It's embarrassing to admit that this has always been the case, yet I haven't taken care to consider race and racism as I talk about what I do.
If you, too, are feeling embarrassed, frozen, or overwhelmed, I want to encourage you.
Here are 3 ways being a mom make you uniquely equipped to participate in the fight for Black lives:
"How?" you may ask.
Great question! Click here to find out how to zap overwhelm and take steps toward what matters most.
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No, I haven't lost it under the weight of the pandemic (yet).
But you read that right.
I've been sliding down the stairs in my house on my belly.
A full-grown woman*. With use of her legs. Sliding down the stairs backwards feet-and-butt-first.
What possessed me?
Our youngest, Pax, had mastered that amazingly fast toddler technique of sliding down our stairs on his belly. I'm not sure about the physics of it all, but he would turn around at the top, kneel on the first stair, then pump his little limbs and be at the base of the stairs in a flash.
One day, Pax decided he only wanted to be carried.
Though he was perfectly capable, he started to whimper whenever I didn't carry him downstairs. Sigh.
I asked. I pleaded. I ordered him to come down on the stairs on his own, but no luck.
With visions of carrying a heavy future 5-year old downstairs in my head, I took matters into my own hands.
Instead of picking him up when he whimpered, I got onto my own belly and took the stairs backward.
"Come on, Pax! Come on! Let's go down like this!"
With my adult frame awkwardly navigating the bumps, I modeled how to come downstairs.
And it worked.
My words were not enough.
He needed to SEE me do it.
What the heck does this have to do with self care?
Our actions speak louder than our words.
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