Not your typical first blog post
This was not supposed to be my first post. I planned some inane jibber jabber on my new year goals couched in self care and cultural entertainment.
But that feels a little silly on the heels of what’s going on in OUR country.
Every Sunday, my husband Ade and I sit down and plan our weekly meals. We turn on Barney (90’s version) for our 1 year old Simon so we can form coherent thoughts, and assess our weekly commitments and weather, aligning them with what we’re in the mood for this week.
But as Down On Grandpa’s Farm blared for the third time, I couldn’t help but think of all the family routines utterly destroyed and shattered because of ICE.
A five year old, probably eager for an after school snack, snatched away and put on a plane alone and sent to a detention center. Renee Goode’s kids never eating dinner with their mom again. Alex Pretti dining at the hospital cafeteria before his own murder.
It’s just too much.
We are told to have hope. To find glimmers of joy in this darkness. Have some whimsy.
But how are we to do this through such fear? I cycle between wanting to move into a bigger home and continue growing roots in Madison, and fleeing away from this country to protect my family.
Do I stay informed, since my own family is one with immigrant roots, or do I stop doomscrolling and live in the moments? Do I let the anger take hold, or offer prayers of forgiveness and showcase radical empathy to my toddler? I am not shocked any of this is happening, but I am shocked at the seeming apathy and refusal for some to see this as some sort of twisted justice.
I am still going to post my food and motherhood content but as always the personal is political.
It SHOULD go without saying, but immigrants are people. They have shared rich history, stories or resilience and share those most intimate parts of them with us - food. How can we be a so-called melting pot if we are stripping away the soul?
How does one parent with intention, teaching empathy, self acceptance, and resilience against wicked bigotry and sneaky microaggressions? We cannot wellness our way out of this, or manifest, or disassociate.
I’m here to talk about motherhood both highs and lows.
Well, welcome to the lows.