Anger at it all

There are so many things in my head. I hope you will bare with me and how this time in history is so affecting my heart and soul.  There are so many emotions and feelings that I worry if I let them out glass will shatter, pictures will fall and windows will crack.  I literally want to scream at the world.  I want to stand outside scream at the top of my lungs until I feel better, until the world is a safe place for everyone. I can promise that it would not be a little short scream.  My scream would be the things of nightmares, the things of horror movies.  The kind of scream that stays in your head even after the movie is over.  That is the kind of angry that I am.  Right now it isn't even about one thing, its a lot of things that have been building.  Its everything and nothing all at the same time. Its about the state of the world, the pain and hurt that can not be explained.  The anger is about my son that casually says he has been called the N word, multiple times .  Its about the state of the world where evilness and cruelty are nothing out of the ordinary.  This anger is blinding.  I hate the part of my story that affects my children.  I am angry  that my son worries about putting his permit in his pocket; fearing that if he was stopped and reached for it he could be shot.  My 16 year old son, that has the world in front of him worries about such things; that is heartbreaking. There are so many things going on in the world and I fear what the future holds.  I wonder what its going to take for things to change, for all the awfulness to stop.  There is so much violence and hatred and people hurting each other and its all so very sad.  Its a crazy time in this world. As someone who feels things so deeply, its a time, that cuts to my core.

Its only recently that I have acknowledged that my children are biracial. That sounds so strange, but that was a part of them I didn't want to see or acknowledge.   The situation that I was in and how thy were conceived was something I tucked neatly away, not to be acknowledged . That part didn't matter, what did matter was that I was going to be a mom and they were going to be mine . I didn't want to think about the violence of such a monster, the other half of them.  Why would I acknowledge that part when I had a future to enjoy with MY precious children. I say that and there is a part of me that breaks. I would do anything for a fairy godmother to drop them in my womb and be their mom. A part breaks because as much as I would like to say that; yes they are all mine, there is another part of them.  They are just my children and have been from the moment that I found out I was pregnant.  They were always mine and i was so glad that I was going to be their mom. Above all else they were my sweet babies, I was over the moon I was going to be a mom. The things that used to work when they were small about not having a dad ;  that mom just dropped two eggs, that the stork delivered them all those little things somehow were a relief to my heart, that made their story everything perfect as babies are meant to be.  I knew they weren't the total truth, but the little stories we told that made us laugh were so much easier than the truth. The truth hurt , the truth was unimaginable . The things that others said when I found out that I was pregnant.  My brother made a comment about them having N lips. My mother made a comment about how they were going to look like little gorillas.  I don't even know if they had a clue the impact that their words made and how it was literally like a knife through my heart.  These were my precious children, how dare they say things like that.  When they were under a year old I was asked, "Are they yours ?" I was asked oh what are they mixed with ?  I was asked did you have invetro ?  I was even asked once if they were foster children! WTF ? The things that I was asked by complete strangers was unimaginable.  I smiled and ignored, giving all my energy to my beautiful amazing children that were my reason for living, that were my world.  Inside my heart was broken. I carried another part of the story, that I never shared or acknowledged for the most part.   

The time is coming to give them a complete story; their story and I can not express in any kind of words what that means or just how hard that it is. I have given them a piece or two, what I thought that their heart could handle at the time.  The time is coming when they need a complete story, because we all want to know where we came from.  I do believe that all of this racial inequality and violence in the world, things are blaring and there is no more hiding.  For some time now Vincent is identifying with the other half of who he is.  I can tell you that I have fought that tooth and nail; and its a battle that I am loosing.  I wanted to keep him safe and protected from that part of his story. I fought when he wanted to wear a dew rag for his hair. I fought when he wanted a haircut that let me be real; that was for black people. I think my heart was crushed each time, he identified with that part of himself, with a part that created him.  I was upset for no other reason then I could not understand why he would want to identify with a part of himself that was so hurtful to me.  It is a struggle; such a struggle that I never imagined.  As we were sitting in DPS getting his permit and we were filling out the paperwork and for race I check white.  He was like what are you doing let me see the choices. And he put his arm next to mine and was like look do I look white ? Talk about crushing, but I am your mom I am the one who has sacrificed, who has worked so hard to make sure that you have all the good things in life. Until that moment I am not sure I was even able to see that there is another part of them, or that they crave to know all the parts of them not just me. I am the one who sat in the department of human services for food stamps when they were a few says old and had a pen thrown at me across the desk because I didn't have any father information so they could go after child support. I sat there as tears rolled down my cheeks, I never said a word that I was raped.  They were much older before I ever said a word to anyone.  I could list 199 things that I gave up that I believe to be true for him and his heart but the truth is he isn't all of me. All that I gave up I would do again a thousand times to be their mom.  There is another side another piece of him that he needs room to explore.  And that other part just happens to be African American.  I am still trying to figure out what that means for me, for my children; because for me it has nothing to do with the color of his fathers skin. For me it is the fact that I am not enough.  I want to be enough, I want to have all the answers and our life didn't come with any easy answers, or the happy ever after. The issue that I have is that this man, his father took things that were not his to take.  I feel like Vincent, Mariska  and I are stuck in the middle.  On the left side there is this act of violence, that was more than awful, that forever changed me but on the other side of that I got the mot precious gift. There is the three of us, our own happy little family of three. Then there is the part of my children, their heritage their genes that they want to understand and know.  And I am going to have to intertwine those things somehow someway and give Vincent the answers that I know he longs for and craves. 

So the anger that is in my bones is  fierce and so deep in my soul, its truly an inferno. Anger at the situation, anger at the things that my son has to deal with.  Anger that as a world people are not safe in their skin. The cards that we have been dealt just are, they are just raw and blaring right now and its a hard place to be.    I am sad for the parts that we can't control. I am sad for the part of my story that is part of my children's story.  I am a white women who doesn't have to worry about a lot of things and my son is MY son who has to worry about so much.  I think for this time I need to sit with this broken heart.  I need to fill in some of these pieces.  I need to have the strength and courage to fill in those pieces for my children.  Such a time of unrest that I hope will lead to change,  justice and more compassion and understanding for each other, as we all figure out our stories in this world. 

For my children.I see you.

I heart your heart.