Who Knew I was a Multi-Cultural Mom Blogger?

There are some parts of your identity that you take so much for granted that you don't even think about it.  Not really, not until someone or something reminds you of it.

When the natural hair movement started gaining steam, with women left and right shunning their perms and chemical processes for the beauty of their natural texture and all these curly hair and mixed-chick hair products were on every beauty supply shelf - it took me a while to realize "oh, that's me." I've been "natural" and "curly" all my life, but never thought of it that way, it was just my hair.

Recently, I came across a blog that celebrated being a multicultural mom blogger and promoted a network for such moms. This particular blog was written by a White mom with a Black husband and bi-racial children. There were other variations in the network - white moms, Asian moms, Hispanic moms, Black moms - with all shades and races of husbands and children.  Reading over the blog descriptions and author bios, it eventually struck me - "hey, that's me."  Of course, I've known, embraced, touted my ethnicity and heritage all my life, but I didn't give it much thought as defining me as a blogger.

In many ways though, doesn't our race and self-identity affect much of what we do, in ways we realize and in ways we don't much notice. The foods we eat, the activities we enjoy, our holiday celebrations.  Our language and word choice.  Our values and life choices.  It's not good or bad, better or worse.  It's what makes us all different and unique, but in many ways the same.  Beautiful, right?

So, how does this "multicultural mom blogger" distinction define my blog?  I guess in the same way that it defines me.

And now that I have had this "revelation", I'm heading to Blogalicious! in Atlanta.  A social media conference especially for multicultural bloggers.  This is my first blogging conference and I'm anticipating learning new ways to continually improve the blogging experience at Just Piddlin' - for me and you.  Be sure to keep up with me on Facebook and Twitter this week, starting Thursday, for the interesting tidbits I find there.

And while I'm there, of course I'll be multi-tasking as well.  I have a few book signings scheduled for my novel, Life in Spades. At a coffee shop, at a chocolate shop, another coffee shop - ha ha, are you really surprised?  I've got to build in my caffeine into my busy schedule.  Dates, times & locations are listed on my book site - www.francesfrost.com. So if you happen to be in Atlanta this week - stop by and say "hi"! 

Now, off I go to settle my household before I head out of town.  (Hmmm - mom's left-behind list to keep the household together while gone - perhaps another post all together.)

Can I Touch Your Hair?

This past weekend, there was a live art exhibit entitled "You Can Touch My Hair," organized by Antonia Opiah, of un-ruly.com. It's sparked some debate in the past few days, which, quite honestly, has gotten me debating with myself about my thoughts.

The exhibit consisted of three African-American women with different hair styles and textures standing on a NYC street corner with signs that read "You can touch my hair."  And folks did!  Complete strangers just walked up to them and stroked and fingered their locks. (See the video) Sooo... is that weird? Odd? Okay? Offensive? Being culturally aware or insensitive?  I'm still coming to a conclusion.

The idea of it being an "exhibit" kinda doesn't set right with me and it's hard to put a finger on the reason why. But I think it, to me, seems to be comparable to a petting zoo. I take my kids to the National Zoo and there's a section where there are farm animals that you can touch and poke (okay, you aren't supposed to poke them) and the kids always ooh! and ahh! and hmmm! as they rub their hands over the cows and goats and sheep, fascinated by the feel and texture of the fur on the animals. And this "touch my hair" thing seems akin to that.  *The concept of the touching, not equating the women AT ALL to the animals (I know folks can get things twisted).

You can touch this hair since it doesn't belong to anyone right now.  (J. Flair Hair)

That said, I admit, I am one of those people who is very curious about people's hair and how they maintain and style it.  I ask folks what they put in their curly curls to keep them shiny and moist. I will inquire what's the right flat iron to get natural hair bone straight. I can't resist a baby's head of curls and I have been known to run my hands over a friend's locks. Recently, in fact, on two different occasions, I did ask a couple of women all kinds of hair questions.

When I went to get my hair done (a rare occurrence for me), the make-up artist in the salon had these long beautiful dreadlocks. As the subject was hair, we started talking about maintaining different styles and I did ask her a bunch of questions about her locks.  How long did it take to grow them to their current length, how does she wash them, how or if she would ever take them out. I'm always curious about locks because it's a style that I will never have; I don't think my hair will hold.

On another day, I met Jennifer from J. Flair Hair (Philadelphia) at her vendor booth at an event, with her weave products on the table, so this I took as the perfect opportunity to ask every question I had about weaves. Where'd the hair come from, how one selected a hair type, how did it get sewn in, how long did it last, how did you wash and style it. And she gave me the most complete, best answers, so much so that I was contemplating sitting right down in front of her and getting a weave myself. Every question I could think of, I asked her. But that was her business, that's what she did for a living. I wouldn't have just walked up to her and asked her if she had a weave and could I touch her hair.

Jennifer - yes, she has a weave and can sew one in for you, too!

So, yes, I am one of those people curious about people's hair.  Partly because my hair is kinda boring, to me, at least. It's a wavy mixed grade that poofs at the hint of 2% humidity, doesn't hold a style, and is usually in a ponytail or a messy bun.  Curiosity about anything different from what we are used to is natural. But when it comes to people, we've got to be careful that acting upon that curiosity doesn't cross the line into making people into a "thing" to be experienced, observed, and studied. And yes, where that line is is different for each individual.  Where is it for you? Would you have let people come touch your hair? Or would you have touched their hair?

I didn't see the exhibit, nor have I spoken with Ms. Opiah, but you can read more on how she came up with the idea for this exhibit in her own words.

Another "Family Heritage" Project

Four kids = at least 8 "family heritage" projects so far.

And sorry to say, because maybe it's not a good mom statement or "cultural"person statement, but I kinda get tired of doing them.  I know that they are supposed to celebrate diversity and recognize different heritages and all those wonderful, world-wide lessons.  I'd like to have my kids scribble Langston Hughes' "Theme for English B" on the poster board and recite it, but I don't think that would be acceptable.

The roofline of a Korean palace - I love the colors and design.

My son is working on his now.  There's questions like "what country is your family from", "who in your family is an immigrant," "how did they immigrate here,""what language does your family speak," "describe what do you do to celebrate your heritage," "describe the holidays and dress of your heritage."  As a family with mixed heritage, my kids have a couple of options.  My kids select the Korean family lineage for these projects, because that's more in line with the goals than a poster about North Carolina. (We won't even discuss the incident in which the teacher suggested my child choose some African country instead.)

My kids are partly 2nd generation Americanized-Korean.  As infants, they had 100 Day celebrations and a big first birthday, my mother does cook special foods on New Year's Day, and we regularly eat Korean food.  Do you see a theme?  Our Korean-ness is mostly about food.  The kids don't speak the language, I do only at a basic level, and we don't really celebrate any special occasions. My mother does recognize days such as the lunar new year and the birth or death days of her family members, but the kids rarely do.

The direct immigrant questions are easy.  Annually, they discuss whether I actually am an American citizen or not and can I run for President.  Yes and yes and no, you can't see my birth certificate.  For language, they write "English" although that doesn't answer the point of the question.  They only know basic commands in Korean, "come eat," "come here," "stop talking," "go to sleep" - the essentials of a childhood, so they can't honestly say we speak Korean.

To the other questions, they write answers like "we celebrate Christmas and Easter," because we do, but as I explain to them, that's not because we're Korean, that's because we're Christian.  How about "we eat black-eyed peas and rice on new year's day - with mandoo (dumplings) and rice cake soup"?  That's a more accurate picture of who we are, yeah, write that.

A bowl of Korean rice cake and mandoo soup.

Granted, part of my tiredness of this project isn't the project itself. It's being asked the question, "so, what are you" for over 30 years. I'm proud of my heritage, no doubt, but sometimes I get tired of being asked by random strangers (and yes, I do get asked by random strangers). "No, where are you really from?" "Oh, where is that?" "What do they speak there?" "Say something." Yeah, I love my Korean self, I just get tired of the interrogations.

But for all that, as my son was working on his questions the other day, I realized the best part of the project. My kids sitting with their grandmother as she explains something only she can - her heritage. And no matter how many times she's gone over these same questions with each kid, she doesn't seem to get tired of telling them all about their distant ancestoral home.  And they don't get tired of listening.

Food, glorious food

I don't know if it's my corner of the world or our country in general that's becoming more internationally mixed when it comes to food. When I was a kid, my mom would occasionally pack Kim bap for my school lunch. At the time, my meal of rice, bulgogi (steak) and vegetables, wrapped in seaweed were a peculiar anomaly, beside the fact that most of my classmates carried carefully wrapped matzo crackers in the spring. I learned at an early age that all cultural cuisine is not accepted equally.

But today, I'm sitting on the edge of D.C., having falafel, roti rice, and hummus for lunch, surrounded by people of various hues and hair texture, few of which look like their family originated from the same place as the menu. Last night, at my daughter's dinner break in between play performances, the cast members passed around carrot cake and gingerbread, as well as a delicious Indian dessert that I have no idea what it was called but surprisingly, literally, melted in your mouth, and Babaganoush, while one of the kids snacked on small squares of roasted seaweed. There was the full-American meal of hamburger and fries (my child) and the adopted American meal of spaghetti and meatballs, in addition to the international flavors.

In our world, where there is still ethnic and civil wars, where we are still battling with lines drawn by skin color, where the haves and have nots are still debating what space to occupy, it's nice to find a corner where, for a few moments, people seem to be coming together. As we approach Christmas, it provides just a little it of hope that we all can be at peace. Maybe it's not much, and maybe it's corny to think it, but if we can start to accept the different flavors, maybe we can start to accept one another.

Pass the kimchi.