*Warning, this post contains some cursing*

On my recent trip to the states, I ended up standing next to a group of African-Americans on the train ride to my connecting flight. They were a group of professional twenty-somethings – probably headed to some Caribbean island for vacation. They were simply chatting along about people they were friends with and whatnot when I heard one say “I better take my black ass over here before I catch whatever you have”. I don’t know if it’s because it had been a while since hearing that, but that put a huge smile on my face.

See, as much as I go on and on about being Haitian, the fact remains that I moved to the US when I was 3 years-old. That means that all my formative years were à la Américaine. I always attended diverse schools – and diverse in Marin County means predominantly white with a plethora of small ethnic groups – however, I spent the most time with African-Americans. I don’t think I even had to “try to fit in” because it was pretty much all I knew outside of my strict Haitian household. Back then, I didn’t appreciate the type of language that is so commonly used among black people. Even as an adult, I’d say things like “negro, please” to my close black guy friends. It just flowed. And the best part was it was something you said only to each other. I don’t know any other ethnicity who points out their race when referring to themselves.

At times I forget I can be just as much Haitian as I am African-American. I learned the history as it were my own and still remain well-versed in all aspects of the Civil Rights Movement. I even co-founded a black student union in high school and played Angela Davis in a Black History Month presentation. And I got all this in addition to the Haitian history I learned from family. Not to mention all the neat sayings that only Haitians get away with saying to each other, as well. I’m so grateful to have such a rich background filled with knowledge of two extraordinary cultures. So, what does this all mean? Whether it’s my Haitian or African-American side, I am a black person for all intents and purposes and that makes me feel part of a very special group.

Let me add the caveat that I don’t use the “n” word for the same reason I don’t use the “b” word – there’s just a certain line of derogatory I don’t cross. We all have our limits, right?

Here some more pictures from my brief stay in the Arctic – I mean Boston…

I loved this bit of yellow on the sidewalk. As a matter of fact, any bit of color in this weather made me giddy.

I also love the way the snow sits on leaves. You know it’s heavy, but somehow the weight gets supported…

The architecture in Boston – especially Dorchester – is very quaint. Almost all the homes are three stories – and depending on what part of the neighborhood you’re in – they range from single family to triplexes.

All of this is sooo much easier to appreciate from afar, but if you’ve never been, Boston is a fantastic place…to visit…during the summer.

When I wrote about the important things that my mother taught me, I was trying to highlight the positive aspects of the Haitian culture. Pretty easy, even though there are lots of cultural habits that bother me. However, when it came down to it I had a hard time coming up with 5 on the other side so, I settled for the following 4:

1) It’s okay to unload your burden. In the Haitian culture, you don’t talk about certain problems; especially those that can potentially reflect poorly on the family. Someone gets arrested, you act like it didn’t happen. Someone gets kicked out of school, you find some story to explain what happened. I understand that thisncones from living in tight-knit communities, but even then it’s not a healthy way to deal with problems. When you’re stressed you need the support of others who genuinely care for you. If you can’t share with anyone you know, then seek professional help (another huge taboo).

2) Question authority. Okay, historically speaking Haitians have a valid reason for taking issue with authority. But somehow, once they immigrate to foreign countries, they become hesistant to do so. Whatever the “law” says goes. Hence, they rarely get involved in community activism and are often afraid to speak out when they see something wrong happening. Immigrants are so easily abused because of their legal status and that fear doesn’t necessarily go away once your status does. I think there are ways that we as a community can start teaching our children, and others around us that it’s not only OK to denounce crimes, it’s our duty.

3) Be curious/creative. A lot of kids from my generation grew up thinking the only way to make your parents proud was to become a doctor, lawyer or an engineer. Creative professions were never considered. I think many people find out what it is that makes them happy by being curious – or wondering what it would be like to [fill in the blank]. I’m encouraging my kids to think about every profession, thoroughly, which is something many young Americans have been forced to do during the Great Recession.

4) Hold other to the same standards you hold yourself. When I took my trip to Boston last week, there were certain people *ahem* family members, who thought that it was irresponsible to leave my children behind. Reason being: I’m the mother and fathers can never be trusted to take care of children. WTF?! Well, I don’t buy this and even though I missed them like crazy, I think the time apart was good for us. How else will the appreciate all the crap I do  This one is more of a gender equality change, but I think it boils down to this, if I expect someone to be able to cook, clean, raise kids, etc., I should be able to do it, too. As with any skill, one of us may be better at it, but that doesn’t give you a permanent get out of jail free card.

Are any of these traits existent in your culture/family? Do you think they should change?

Last week I made a trip to Boston and if you missed it, they got their first snow of the season right as I arrived. This is the Charles River…

No joke. I had to verify that it was indeed the Charles. And this was day 2 in Dorchester…

It stopped snowing, but all that meant was freezing temperatures and black ice. Good times. But seriously, the best part of my trip was this…

This is my chickie Martini and her husband, who were so kind to host me for the weekend. It has been 10 years since I last visited Boston (I stayed with her then too AND it was snowing when I left) and although the city has changed a bit, it’s always a treat to spend time with her and her family. However, I made her promise that our next meet up will be in warmer temperatures

My daughter is in her room doing her homework and my son *should be* in the living room playing with his toys. I’m in my room trying to escape, ahem read.

Daughter: Mooommmmyyyyyy, Kharl’s bothering me!!!

Me: Kharl, leave Sissy alone. She’s doing her homework.

Son: Okkaayyy!!!

2 minutes later…

Son: Sissy! I have a supwize for yooouuu!!!

Daughter: Kharl, leave me alone! You’re going to get me in trouble!

Son: Sissy lookit! Sissy lookit!

Daugther: Mommie! Kharl is still booothering meeee!!!

Me: Khhaaarrrrlllll!

Son: Mommyyyyyyy! Sissy called you stoooppidd!

Mind you, this all occurs at about 1 billion decibels (I don’t really know how to measure sound, but you get the picture). It’s amazing I’ve yet to go crazy…at least that’s what the voices in my head keep telling me.