When It's Not About You

This is the sixth entry of "The Chip On My Shoulder Is A Boulder," a series on the complex relationships between black women and their mothers. The series will run through this week. Previous entries include "The Adoptee," "The Rebel," "The Gypsy," "She Did Her Best" and "The Reluctant Mother."

Someone is supposed to be the adult and someone is supposed to be the child, but what happens when you become the mother of your mother? When she sees herself as your rival and not your parent? What happens when it's all about her and never about you?

Many equate motherhood with selfless sacrifice. It's usually the children who are accused of being ungrateful or users of a constantly relenting mother. But when your mother is demanding you for bailouts from her financial troubles and treats you more like a prized pet than a person, it's easy to develop the mother of all mommy issues.

The Narcissist's Daughter loves her mother and believes her mother loves her. But she also knows her mother loves herself most of all.

THE NARCISSIST'S DAUGHTER

I feel for Rebecca Walker.

I truly don't believe that my mom really wanted to have children. I also think she blamed me for her marriage and a host of other decisions she made because she had me, and later my brother. I think she is jealous of my degree and, in general, our relationship can be really strained. I think it took real courage for (Walker) to out her mother's inadequacies. If I were to tell my mother all of hers and why I have so many mommy issues she would probably try to knock my head off.

My mother is the quintessential baby boomer. She reminds me of Hillary Clinton and the mother character on "Two and A Half Men" -- entirely too narcissistic. Every thing, decision, mistake and triumph is about her. She even tries to dress like me and I am almost 25 years younger than her.

When I was pregnant with my first child and she wanted to give me a baby shower. I was under the impression that she wanted to give it in my town. Nope, she wanted to have it at her house so that her friends could attend.

My daughter's godmother had already offered to do the baby shower so I explained to her that she had already offered to do it. She complained for two months because her friends wouldn't want to drive a hour and a half away to attend my baby shower and how I was being awfully inconsiderate to her. I explained to her if they were not willing to drive they weren't my friends anyway. She pouted and threw back handed comments about it for three months. My daughter was already born then.

With my second pregnancy, I was admitted into the hospital. She showed up at the hospital with her date. I did not know this man, and here I am in the hospital almost undressed, wearing one of those those God awful gowns. You probably get the picture. She promised me that she was going to spend a week with me after having the baby. I have had two babies and after they were born she spent a grand total of 4 days.

Seventy five percent of the time that she was there she spent it on the phone talking to her boyfriend.

My mother only wants to visit and interact with my brother and me when she isn't seeing anyone. We don't get phone calls or regular visits when she is in a relationship.

The stop by the hospital thing was to show off that she had family. I often times feel as if we are the toys she pulls off the shelf when she wants to play with us. She has been this way since my dad died, so I have tried to chalk this up as grief related, but when I look back at some of the crazy things she did when we were growing up, I begin to wonder.

Now don't get me wrong, when I was growing up I can never remember a time when she didn't have a hot meal on the table for us when we got home from school, and I am sure that she wanted us to be the best dressed, and my school accomplishments were things that she could brag about, so that was all good, and she attended all of the school functions. I can't get angry about any of those things. But unfortunately for me she blamed me on several occasions, usually during arguments with my dad, her husband, that I was the only reason she was married to him, and if they hadn't had me she wouldn't be there. So I grew up feeling that I was the reason for her unhappiness.

To this day, she still expects me to bail her out of financial difficulties, drop everything when she calls (doesn't matter that I have my own family to take care of), give her pep talks when she is down, etc. Sometimes I feel like the parent.

Now that I am older, I realize that momma was just a professional victim. She was too young to have me (22), and she didn't have the tools to cope with her own personal issues. I understand that and I respect that, but I have developed my own psychosis because I want to be the kind of mom that is a champion for her daughters. I don't want them to feel obligated to me. I want them to want to be around me, but not out of some guilt enforced sense of obligation.

I am sure I have other stories of her narcissism/selfishness, but I have probably suppressed them because some of them hurt quite a bit. So maybe narcissism is not the word maybe it is just plain selfish.

We currently have a good relationship -- this month. But I keep my guard up with her because I don't want my feelings hurt.

Hey, hey! The Black Snob Is In the Hunt!

Black Politics On the Web announced its finalists for its Shining Star Awards and you helped get The Black Snob nominated as a Finalist for Best Overall Political blog and Best New Political blog!

You guys are the best!

And it appears that I am the only person up for Best New Political blog so I think I'm coming away with one award no matter what!

So help me get The Black Snob to the top of the heap! Vote for moi for Best Overall Political blog at blackpoliticsontheweb.com.

Ask The Snob!

Ever since I started this blog I have received mail from people of all nationalities about black people and black issues. I try to be welcoming of all people and all points of view because I want to encourage openness in the best interest of improving race relations and ethnic divisions. No judgments, just frank answers as best as I can give them.

From now on when I receive a particularly good letter I'm going to highlight it on the blog and encourage others to ask me anything and I'll give an answer as honest and as informed as I can.

If you have a comment or question for The Snob email me at blacksnob@gmail.com.

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Hi Danielle,

My name is Stephanie and lately I have been trying to find who I am.

Well, I know who I am in a way but in another way I don't.

To make a story short my grandfather on my mum's side was African American (she was born at the end of WW2).

I have been reading a lot about African Americans lately, I read about the notion of "passing." Well I guess that here in Belgium I am kind of passing although I always tell people about my roots. My Dad is white as chalk and my mum is brown and I am white with green eyes. When I tell my story to people, they take a closer look at me and usually say, yes I can see it in your features.

Now my is question: What do you call someone like me? Someone whose grandfather was African American?

One thing I am sure of is that I am proud of my roots, even if I have never met my grandfather. My mum never got to know him either. She doesn't even know his name. Shame on the grandma for this.

Well, I hope I am not annoying you with my babbling and questions.

Take care and thanks for reading this,

Steph Brouwers

Hi Stephanie,

Your story is interesting. Traditionally, in the United States anyone with any African ancestry is considered black or African American. Things have changed some where individuals who are biracial or have a black grandparent may identify themselves as bi- or multiracial, but despite this slightly more relaxed attitude people white and black in the US tend to adhere to the "one drop" rule. It's based on a post-slavery law adopted throughout the US that labeled all people with African ancestry, no matter how minuscule, as black. That's where the rigidness over the issue comes from.

Basically all African Americans are mixed -- usually with white (primarily French or English), West African and Indian (Native American) blood,. This isn't so much dissimilar for how it is for other blacks throughout Central and South America, as well as the Caribbean although their white blood tends to come from the French, Spaniards and the Portuguese. But because of the degree of racism in the US there is a form of solidarity among all people with black blood. We all faced the same discrimination and harassment. Some people who don't look black at all, like yourself, are quite adamant in identifying themselves as black. But in modern times other individuals who look black, like golfer Tiger Woods, insist on being seen as a multiracial person.

I don't know if this helps you any. Most of the terms created for the different degrees of biracial people are considered offensive now. If you were biracial, having one black parent, you were mulatto. In your case, with a grandparent, you'd be a quadroon. But like I said, these terms are considered offensive in the states.

Also, the general rule for most multiracial people in the US is "you are what you look like." If people look at you and see a black person that is how you'll get treated no matter what. If you do not look black it's understandable to just refer to yourself as bi- or multiracial.

I think it's good that you want to learn more about your African American roots. It's always good to learn where you came from and about different cultures. And I wouldn't worry too much about the "passing" aspect. If you're honest about who you are and comfortable with who you are that's all that really matters. You, the individual, are not limited to or defined by your ethnicity solely.

Good luck in learning more about your family and culture. If you have any other questions just drop me another email. I'm always happy to help.

Yours truly,

Danielle aka "The Snob"

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LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Author Shelby Steele

On Black Conservatives

I just saw Shelby Steele on Hannity's America and what I can't understand is why these Fox News Uncle Tom's (Steele, Larry Elder, Juan Williams) aren't smart enough to know that the white man is just using them to try and disgrace strong black men.

These black men have obviously lost their minds and I bet when they see black people coming toward them on the street, they turn and go the other way from fear. It really bothers me to see Fox News use these house Negroes to try and sway blacks and whites not to vote for Obama. Obama has surrounded himself with skilled young and old people who make McCain look like an old fool. It seems like all McCain's campaign does is wait to see what Obama says and does and then criticize him. If Obama looses, it's only because he's black. He has been running circles around McCain and the old fool can't seem to figure him out. Obama is so much smarter than McCain.

CB
Dallas, TX

Let me compliment you on this very fine piece of writing (Black Conservatives on Barack Obama). It was both insightful and thought-provoking.

As a black conservative it is rare that a confessed liberal will give credence to the fact that black conservatives have a right to exist without being considered anathema’s to our ethnic designation. I was a liberal for many years, but 20 years of Pastoral ministry in Gary, IN has taught me that the social policies of liberals are not working for blacks.

I would agree with J.C. Watts that the Republican Party has done little to reach out to blacks, and seems to have conceded the black vote once again. This being said, I favored Mike Huckabee, and I still struggle with McCain. I am truly in awe of the historical moment before with Sen. Barack Obama; however policy is the deal breaker for me. I just do not believe the evidence supports success of his policy proposals. I say this in the face of the huge disappointment G.W. Bush has been as a President.

Thanks for your opinions, and I hope to keep reading them.

Raymond C. Dix Jr.
Senior Pastor
Berean Fellowship Baptist Church
Gary, Ind.

SPECIAL REQUESTS

Tiger Topless

If that heading doesn’t look like spam I don’t know what does.

Much for the reason I found you, TJ Holmes, I have also much wanted to see a picture of Tiger Woods showing more skin.

Sharie B.

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If you have a comment, question or request give it up to The Snob and I'll see what I can do. Just email me at blacksnob@gmail.com. Also, The Snob is still broke folks. Please help feed a Snob and donate a lil' somethin' somethin' via PayPal. Every little bit helps!

Secrets of "The Reluctant Mother"

This is the fifth entry of "The Chip On My Shoulder Is A Boulder," a series on the complex relationships between black women and their mothers. The series will run over the next two weeks. Previous entries include "The Adoptee," "The Rebel," "The Gypsy" and "She Did Her Best."

It's verboten.

Mothers aren't supposed to admit they should have never been mothers. That what some see as a blessing others see as a burden. But it's not acceptable to talk about it, let alone admit it like today's letter writer, "The Reluctant Mother."

She delivers a different point-of-view in this mothers and daughters series. The view of every mother who feels apprehension instead of joy. Who feels hollow where the child was supposed to fill. Who looks forward to the day she is released from her "motherly" prison and returns to a life all their own.

Many would accuse a mother like this of being selfish. But that accusation doesn't make it any less true.

Not everyone is mother material.

Migrant Mother Holds Her Baby, Maricopa County, Arizona, 1940 (Library of Congress)

THE RELUCTANT MOTHER

While I am anything but a die hard feminist, I recognize that mammary glands and ovaries do not make you a mother. There is something in a mother that manifests itself over time and stays there for the rest of her life. My mother has it. She is the best mother this side of creation; however, it doesn't manifest in every woman. It never manifested in me.

While reading your post I realized that one day my child may feel the same way about me when she is older as Alice Walker's daughter feels about her mother. I'm saddened by that, but the truth is the truth.

I am not a "good" mother.

I am not touchy feely, I am not affectionate and I am a bit of a hard nose. I thought it was bad when she was a toddler, but each stage of life replaced one strain on my nerves with an even larger one. My daughter is now 13 years old and I am daily amazed I haven't killed one of us. Now that she is old enough to do things without me I encourage it. I pay what needs to be paid, I feed her, clothe her and I grudgingly attend those events that require my attendance, but if the truth is told -- I find motherhood a burden more than a joy. This is why I only have one child.

Shortly after I married her father we found out I was pregnant, and while pregnancy did not agree with me, I was looking forward to her arrival. However, her father and I fought constantly, as immature people will do, so when she came along after my 22nd birthday I was in the process of filing for divorce. She lived with both parents in the home all of 30 days. Prior to my decision to end the marriage, it never occurred to me that one day I may be a single parent. I felt, at the time, I had sacrificed myself and my stability (financial and familial) because of his drinking and my body for her so there was very little left for me.

I didn’t mind the 2 am feedings or the constant diaper changes. However, I learned I was not cut out for motherhood when I realized that as she grew so would the demands on my space and peace of mind.

I had to work, take care of her, take care of myself and try to have a life in the midst of it all. That is a near impossible feat. Something is always sacrificed and I feel that every sacrifice made came at my expense. I have only recently been able to carve out some semblance of a life for myself. Her father has a severe alcohol problem that prevents me from trusting her into his care without supervision.

The constant pull to mold a young person into a capable adult is tiresome and most times results in frustration and anger. Some days I wish her father were the more responsible of the two of us so I could send her to him, but regardless of my personal dislike of motherhood I don't shirk my responsibilities. So I go along day after day, counting down to graduation when I can put this era of my life behind me and move on to something that hasn't felt like 18 years of labor and delivery.

Michelle's No. 1 Designer Is On the Rise!

There's a story in The Wall Street Journal Sunday about Chicago clothing designer Maria Pinto, Michelle Obama's no. 1 point woman to keep her looking fabulous. Read the article here. (Thanks, Renee)

Everybody Likes to Shine Like Diamonds

It's Cartier's Love Charity Bracelet product launch. Or as I would call it, dressin' up for jewelry which happened last Thursday.

That's my kind of party. Someone drapes you in diamonds and you floss for a bit before sitting down for an extremely expensive chicken dinner. And that's my girl, Rosario Dawson, in the spotlight, being Rosario. She's always just the right mix of downtown and uptown. I have a total girl crush on her and the unbelievably scrawny Angelina Jolie as I like my womens crazy with a capital "C." And they're about neck n' neck, mostly because they play a nice mix of sexpots and weirdos on screen. Or a weird sexpot. Like Dawson in "Sin City."

Jolie's the better actress, but Rosario sexier (mostly because she's willing to be a size 4-6 over a size 0-2.)

Eat something, Angie. Sweet Jesus, eat!

Rosario and actress Bridget Moynahan

And here's Kimora Lee rocking a very satin and silky black dress. I'm not feeling it for all sorts of reasons. Like how it's unflattering and accentuates her paunch. And no woman wants to draw attention to that. Thankfully, my Florissant, Mo. homie brought the always delicious Djimon Hounsou with her.

Every thing's better with Hounsou.

Wow. Someone went for intrigue with the eyebrows and got crazy tweezer/waxin' happy on Ashanti. Draped in Cartier she looked a tad ordinary in that tight, stretchy white dress with lace work, making her look like she was holding her breath to keep everything in place.

And I hate the shoes. It's probably just a flower, but it looks like black, fuzzy pompoms from here.

And then JD showed up looking horrible, per usual.

Hideous.

And where JD goeth, so doth Janet, Miss Jackson if your nasty. She's once again wearing all black and she's nixed a dress for a pair of the world's largest pair of black pants. I totally hate her hair color because it does not work at all with her skin tone. There's too much red in it and it's too light. Other than that, she still looks girlishly adorable.

Nicole Richie. Still too thin, resembling a dormouse. Or a desert fox. Or a kangaroo rat. I can't decide. Let's all agree she looks like some kind of rodent. She's wearing what basically looks like a backless yellow-aquamarine-gray pup tent. She makes it work even though it looks like someone wrapped her up in five yards of fabric from Wal-Mart.

Be afraid, very afraid of Fergie's man hands. They're far worse than Paris Hilton's man hands. Much, much worse. So bad I was surprised she put 'em up for these photographs. I've mentioned before that I do not get Fergie. While the Black Eyed Peas' will.i.am can put together some tight beats and hooks and Fergie can somewhat sing she is just unattractive to me. She looks like she'd smell like a pack of Menthol Lights and a tall boy.

And this dress is a terrible, no good, awful, very bad dress. And would someone please let her feet out of prison?

Run, Common! It's a ... oh, wait. That's just Fergie. My bad.

In this picture I try to focus on Eva Mendes, who I like and is very pretty. Her dress and purse are awful and don't do her figure any justice, but standing next to Fergie makes everyone look like a million bucks in contrast.

I'm not a huge fan of Eve. But I am a fan of how she dresses (most of the time). She's developed the reputation for being a hip hop fashionista, often setting the trend. It's still a little weird to see those paw prints on her chest now that she's a mainstream actress and artist. It's like the everlasting symbol of her once hoodrat status. But she's a long ways from the hood now. Why, if it weren't for the paw prints she'd be downright classy.

Naomi Campbell Lives to Abuse Another Day

She went nuts in Heathrow and all she got was 200 hours of community service.

The Brits are calling it a bad case of "air rage," or Naomi Campbell's Amazonian world that would be called "everyday rage."

She was ordered to pay 200 pounds ($400) to each of the police officers she attacked and 150 pounds ($300) to Miles Sutherland, the captain of the British Airways plane she disrupted, in addition to a 2,300 pound ($4,600) fine.

She could have received six months' jail time and a heavy fine for the six offenses stemming from a violent spat in April with British Airways cabin crew and police who removed her from a flight in handcuffs while waiting on the tarmac at Heathrow.

Prosecutors said Campbell used foul language, kicked and spat at police, accused airline personnel of racism and threatened to sue them after she was told that one of her bags had not been placed on the flight to Los Angeles in April.

Seriously, she attacked some cops over a piece of luggage. Let's not blame "air rage." That's like saying all those assistants and maids' faces got in the way of the flying phone.

My favorite part of the story is where she accuses the airline and the police of being racist, targeting her because she's "black and famous." Mind you, she wanted the pilot to delay take-off to find her luggage and that she wasn't the only passenger who's bags were misplaced.

But I still love her. I just never want to work for her and I never want to be her airline pilot.

The Way We Were

The news broke today that Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton are trying to bury the proverbial hatchet out of the inevitable fact that their political fortunes are intertwined.

Democratic presidential hopeful Barack Obama's campaign announced Friday that he will campaign with former rival Hillary Rodham Clinton next week, a step toward unifying a fractured Democratic Party after a bruising primary fight. ... Obama and Clinton also plan to meet in Washington with some of her top contributors in an effort to calm donors who remain frustrated with Obama's presidential campaign. The former first lady will introduce Obama to her financial backers.

They're going to start campaigning together June 27 because political realities deem it so.

He wants to be president. She needs a Democrat in the White House. After all, whether it would be true or not, if Barack falls short some are going to point their fingers at her and she doesn't need that albatross hanging around her neck.

But this feel good-will tour is not going to kick off overnight. Heads and heels need to cool. And both camps need to debate how they can do this thing with class. So far the Obamas have done their part by talking up Hillary Clinton's accomplishments and the Clintons have done their part by not talking at all.

(Side note: I especially find it hilarious that the media, which was screaming for the Clintons to get out of the way for months now is now wondering where she and Bubba went. I'm really starting to think that co-dependent relationship Chris Matthews has with them is unhealthy.)

That said, in honor of this almost/maybe Obama-Clinton lovefest, in the name of getting a "D" in the White House, I'm sharing a photo retrospective of the good times before Jesse Jackson this and you're likable enough, Hillary that.

Ah, memories.

Ah ... remember? And then they decided they both wanted to be president so they then decided to try to kill one another, eventually polarizing their voting bases. C'est la vie!

She Made Mistakes, But She Never Quit

This is the fourth entry of "The Chip On My Shoulder Is A Boulder," a series on the complex relationships between black women and their mothers. The series will run over the next two weeks. Previous entries include "The Adoptee," "The Rebel" and "The Gypsy."

It's often said we don't get to pick our parents.

Depending on what you believe, it was either divine intervention or pure happenstance, but you're here and there she is, your mother.

The love is always there. You have it before you can walk, before you know your name. But it does not always come easy. Mistakes are made. Hearts are broken, but we are resilient. A mother can be redeemed and a child can learn to understand. There is what we can control and what we cannot, but in the end you recognize the realities and limits of this relationship and find solace in the fact she did her best.

SHE DID HER BEST

I used to call her mommo when I was growing up.

I was addicted to the Patty Duke Show on Nick at Nite and she called her dad poppo. But I digress. I love my mom and she has always been there for me and my other 3 sisters.

She is black and was born in 1954 in Louisiana but does not know the exact month and day she was born. She was the youngest of 16 children, born to a single woman obsessed with the father of her children. My mother and youngest aunt were neglected as a result.

My grandmother (and I use that term loosely) left a 2 yr old (my mother) and a 4 yr old (my aunt) alone for several weeks in a house in rural Louisiana to chase after her babies’ daddy all the way in Las Vegas. Because of this, they were both adopted by my mother’s great aunt and moved to California. They were raised by this elderly great aunt who was overbearing and unaffectionate.

At 22 when my sheltered and naive mother met my charismatic father, I was the result of their paths crossing, born in Los Angeles in 1978. They were never in a relationship either before or after my birth. When my mother found out she was pregnant she decided not to tell my father and he found out only after seeing her several months later with a huge belly. From that day on she allowed him in my life but did not seek or encourage it.

Several years later she met and married my sister’s father, an Irish Catholic white man with anger issues who drank and used drugs. During this time my mom fell out of contact with my dad due to the lifestyle she and her new husband were leading. I remember him faintly but what I remember does not paint a pretty picture. I remember being scared of him and him beating my mother. He was murdered after two years of being with my mom before my sister was two years old and she doesn’t remember him at all.

We lived a hard life. When I was 11 years old we moved to Louisiana where it was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. Despite the extreme weather changes, life in Louisiana was much easier to live. Once there my mother had two more girls back-to-back by different fathers -- men that she as well didn’t encourage to be in her daughters’ lives.

To this day I don’t know the rationale behind the decisions she made in her life but it doesn’t matter because they cannot be changed. I have the utmost respect for my mother. She loved to say that we were the most prosperous dysfunctional family around. When I was younger, I was more resentful. I wanted my mother to be rich enough to buy me anything I wanted. As I have grown older, I have become wiser and able to put things in perspective.

I have now realized the valuable lessons that she taught me. She has been at the same job for the last 20 years. She sacrificed earning potential to work right next door to our home because she didn’t want us to be “latchkey kids.” She had a home cooked meal on the table nearly everyday of the week. She is hard-working both at home and at work.

We didn’t have the nicest home but she kept it as clean and orderly as she could. Because we didn’t have money for the extras, I began working at 13 and learned the value of a dollar. My mother was a great help with homework and projects, knowing history and math. She encouraged us to look out for one another at all times because she was determined to be a better mother than her biological mother.

Hindsight is 20/20 and I wish I were more understanding when I was younger. I tried to make her conform to what I thought a mother should be, but looking back I realize that she had it right all along. I had the best mother I could have and I will honor her always.