Family Building

Another month in the hospital, another chance to see Black American statistics come to life. I split the past 4 weeks between Obstetrics/Gynecology clinics and the Labor and Delivery floor of a Baltimore hospital. On average, I met about 4-5 pregnant or postpartum black women a day and either did a quick check up (if in the clinic) or assisted in the delivery of their child if they were on the labor and delivery floor. Although I will never voluntarily come near a gynecology clinic or a delivery ward again, I must admit that childbirth is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever witnessed. In case there was any confusion, that is despite the screaming, bleeding, and vomiting, not because of it. Unfortunately, I found that in many cases the deeper implications of birth often diminished my appreciation of new life. In the stillness that followed birth, I would often peer over at the newborn as he or she lay beneath the heating lamp and imagine their future. On many occasions, I lamented the child's unlikely prospects of enjoying a stable household, and a strong upbrining based on the little information that I had already gathered from her parents. Young, unmarried, and uneducated.
70 percent of black children are born to unmarried parents, and only 32 percent of black children have fathers in the home. These statistics echoed in my mind each time I greeted a black mother. Sadly, of the 70-80 women that I met over the past month, only 6 or 7 black mothers were married. Almost one third of them were either teenagers, or had been pregnant as teenagers. One statistic that I have not come across, maybe because it doesn't really matter, is how many black fathers are present when life begins. I was very surprised to see that in more than 50% of cases, the boyfriend (baby-daddy) was present for birth or an appointment. Unfortunately, current statistics predict that they won't be staying much longer.
My experiences over the last month supported the census and health department statistics that I have read many times before concerning a general decline in the stability of Black families. Stable, two-parent homes have positive correlations with good outcomes among children regardless of geography and race. In a perfect world, this fact alone would inspire everyone to carefully plan pregnancy and family building. But that is rarely seen among the poor blacks of Balitmore and many other cities in America. So what can we do to improve these children's lives despite these circumstances? For those that are capable, mentor a child in need or support someone who does. In the case of Big Brothers Big Sisters, mentors have been shown to make dramatic differences in the lives of young people. For those already mentoring, thank you, and feel free to share your experiences.

Shake 'N Bake

On Sunday, Jamal and I tried something a little different. I realized that I had come up with most of the ideas for our outings, so when he asked about going to the local skating rink for a free, ‘family skate’ session, I thought it would be a good idea. My fiancé decided to join us so that she could meet Jamal and spend the afternoon getting acquainted. Having visited local skating rinks in many suburban settings, I was interested to see what differences I would find in a ‘hood’ roller rink.
One of the first things that grabbed my attention was that the hood had actually named the local family fun center after America’s favorite home fried chicken, Shake and Bake. Fascinating. Then there was the thumping loud rap music that could be heard from the moment we entered the vestibule. It was so loud that the ticket booth lady and I had to repeat ourselves constantly while I bought the tickets. Why would anyone think it appropriate to blast Clipse, T.I. and Snoop for the 10 and under crowd? To my utter amazement, the DJ did not play a single R&B, Pop, or any form of non-rap tracks for the duration of the ‘family skate.’ He did however, play the edited versions so that the children were only treated to the first syllable of each profanity or innuendo. I was also surprised to see that the rink had employed not one, but two rink bouncers to man the doors between the ticket booth and the rink. How many guys does it take to tell the first graders not to cut line?
On a more positive note, I witnessed in person what could be described as rhythmic figure skating/skate dancing, but is officially known as Jam Skating. I’m sure that this has probably been around since the 80’s or before, and I have seen it in a number of music videos from the past few years, but never in an actual rink. Jam Skating was featured in that horrible movie, 'Roll Bounce' that made a brief stop in theatres on its way to DVD last year. Throughout the session, some of the older boys and the rink referees demonstrated some serious moves; spins, bounces, shakes, and glides and all with the rhythm of the tracks. They were quite a sight to behold. I have to admit, I felt really out of touch. I spent most of my formative years in the rink trying to run my brothers off the track, or just seeing how fast I could go with no regard for rhythm or coolness.
Jamal and I raced around the rink a whole bunch of times, playing cat and mouse, and weaving in and out of crowds. Periodically, I broke away to force my fiancé to venture away from the wall around the rink for a lap or so. After about 45 minutes, it became clear to me why I used to resort to trying to ram my brothers and friends into the walls. There’s not a whole lot to do other than go in circles over and over. But since Jamal was having a good time, I just kept rolling.
This outing really brought out Jamal’s thoughtful and caring side. He repeatedly offered to buy us lunch, and even offered to leave early when he noticed that I was getting tired. I normally wouldn't let him see me like that on an outing, but I had worked a 24 hour shift the day before. He also purchased some light up jewelry for us to use during the ‘lights out’ skate half way through the session. I didn’t take him up on the lunch, but gladly accepted my flashing ‘power ring.’ Even though it is already broken, probably never to flash again, I’m going to keep the ring as a souvenir. Maybe the two of us will share a laugh years down the road about flashing jewelry and our trip to the fried chicken skating rink.

Enough

Over the past week I read Juan Williams' cultural wake-up call, Enough: The Phony Leaders, Dead-End Movements, and Culture of Failure That Are Undermining Black America--and What We Can Do About It . Williams wrote this book in support of Bill Cosby's repeated assaults on the most destructive, and self-defeating behaviors that are rotting the core of contemporary Black Culture. Enough focuses on the defeatist, victim mentality which festers among poor blacks, and is encouraged by "Black Leaders" and popular culture. Williams takes special care to address the inevitable personal attacks and criticisms that are aimed at Cosby and any other Black person that insists personal responsibility and accountability are the only means to improved economic and social outcomes for African Americans. Although Mr. Williams' assessment can at times be overwhelming and depressing, I highly reccomend this book to anyone interested in a new approach fixing our communities. Click on the link below to read other reader's opinions on Enough.

Amazon.com Customer Reviews

Air and Space

On Saturday, Jamal and I decided on a day trip to the National Air and Space Museum as our first outing in many weeks. As a child, my parents hauled me and my brothers out to the National Mall for a day full of ‘culture’ on numerous occasions. I have to admit, I dreaded most of our trips down there. With the exception of the Air and Space museum, I usually found counting the number of steps until I made it back to the Metro station more exciting than most of the other museum exhibits. I’m not sure if the museums have improved exponentially since then, or if I was just a knucklehead, because now I enjoy them almost as much as an afternoon of cereal and video games. I split an entire day last summer between two museums and saw only a fraction of what I had intended to. So given my new found enthusiasm for the Smithsonian exhibits, I just knew that Jamal would have to love it too. Who wouldn’t be amazed to see retired space craft suspended from a vaulted ceiling? Apparently, Jamal wouldn’t.
Always a fan of space travel, I decided that it would be best to start our visit on the ‘space’ side of the museum. As we approached each capsule, module, or rocket, I went into what must have been painful detail about its technological and historical significance. I tried my best to put everything in perspective on a level that I thought he could understand and appreciate. Regardless, about and hour into our tour I knew that Jamal was bored. How could he be bored? This was great stuff. Even as a kid I could see that, I think.
Eager to prevent his boredom from slowing the pace of the day’s events, I decided we should head to another museum. On our way out, Jamal asked me if we could stop by an exhibit called ‘How Things Fly’. Turns out it’s a room full of about 25 physics experiments made for children. They featured visitor controlled devices that demonstrated the principles of air flow, pressure, friction, and flight. I couldn’t believe that I had almost missed this room altogether. We ended up staying for another hour and a half so that we could tinker with all of the different contraptions and had an absolute blast. The evening wound down with Pizza back at my parents’ house before we drove back to Baltimore. Despite my attempts to explore Jamal’s plan for achieving straight A’s this quarter, our return trip conversation quickly turned into a discussion about the Justice League’s roster of heroes and a comparison of their powers. He’s definitely motivated, but I think I’m going to have to wait for his report card before we can have any meaningful discussions. No sweat for right now though, we’ll get there.