Pip Pip Cheerio

Three actors and one company have made many folks in this great nation a tad bit uncomfortable and exposed.  People all over America were/are still raving "Cheerios done did it now!"

I'm not going to lie. I do feel quite special that I get to voice my opinion on the matter. My sweet hubs and I like to play this game called, "Is he/she black?" The rules are quite elementary. James sees someone and asks me, "Is he/she black?" What he has learned over the past two years (I originally typed five years. Getting a little ahead of myself) is that black people come in various tints and hues. We look different from each other...real different. We can be light enough to make our own brothas and sistas think us to be white. We may be infused with copper tones that leave the average onlooker assuming us to be Indian or Cuban. And sometimes we look black but the textures of our hair lend themselves toward Asian ancestry. We are the things crayola dreams are made of. So beautiful. So diverse. My eye is trained to notice nuances in the members of my vast black tribe because studies have shown that you actually notice more differences among those whom you look like (in short). I think that is simply fascinating. So, I like playing this game with James because it is ever-evolving and sometimes the answer is, "I just don't know what they are". 

We participate in this "I spy" sport for more than just amusement. We are also selfishly curious. This is a part of the sweet treat of mixing things up. Like Forrest Gump says, "You never know what you're gonna get." The potential gene pool for our offspring is a wealth of diverse biological permutations that neither side of the family has ever experienced before. How exciting is that? We used to worry about if our own identities would be lost in a sea of gray. Anxious tension rose and we quickly spouted off traditions that we would want to hold on too...I actually said Kwanzaa and I was adamant...not that there is anything wrong with Kwanzaa but I have never celebrated that A day in my life...ever. What can I say, I was desperate. Needless to say, we cut away from frivolous kibitzing and settled in the excitement of doing something new for our mixed up (albeit, futuristic) crew. 

Thanks to the miracle of modern technology I didn't have to look farther than Google to see my future offspring.

 Apparently, if James and I have a little boy it will look like me with a mustache and a Michael Jackson curl.

And our bright-skinned, green eye-ed daughter will be quite fashionable with her terry-cloth earmuff headband to keep her fro at bay. (I mean, what is going on here???)

Whatever they look like...I can't wait to see them...Whoever they are...I can't wait to know them. They have much to teach James & I. This is my prayer for them.

I hope you are welcomed into a world that thinks you are precious and worthy simply because you exist. I pray you understand that the expansion of your cultural backdrop is a gift to the world not a curse. I pray that neither James nor I force you into a check-box on a piece of paper but that you feel free to explore every aspect of you. I hope you dance. I hope you laugh. I hope you love well. I hope that you don't compare your skin color, eye color or hair texture to anyone, especially your siblings because God knows you may all be different. Shun negativity. Turn a deaf ear to mean people. Do Good. Soothe the scars of history by living a life of reconciliation. Know that you are beautiful. Know that you are loved.

Pip Pip, Cheerio!

*And, no, this is not some cute way to tell the world that I am pregnant because I am not.*