Mini Mo: Reading the World "Like Me"

Mini Mo turned three years old about a month ago, and in addition to all the wonderful things other mothers have warned me about regarding this age, my little one has become quite the vocal observer of her surroundings--but more importantly of herself.

This self-observation really caught my attention a few months ago during a trip to Old Navy. To convince Mini Mo she needn't fear the half dozen mannequins that greeted us at the door, I walked to the one that looked like a young black girl with afro puffs and said, "Look! She's got puffs like you!" She unclenched my legs and eyed the mannequin, asking me to lift her so she could touch its puffs. From that day forward, whenever we go to any shopping center, Miyah looks for mannequins with "puffs like me!" (On our last trip to Old Navy just last week, she hugged the mannequin with the puffs. I'm so mad I didn't snap a photo.)

I wonder what magic is waiting in
Mini Mo's puffballs.

She continues to notice hair that looks like hers, and I encourage her observations. After all, she got that hair from me. :-) I want her to know I love my hair and her hair and that she should love her hair, too. That's why I purchased Penny and the Magic Puffballs, a children's book by Alonda Williams about a girl who comes to appreciate her puffs and the power they give her. Mini Mo was shocked to find at the end of the book a collage of photographs featuring girls of varying ages and with all kinds of puffballs--and she even thought one of them was her! She saw herself, and it was a beautiful thing.

Her reading of similarities between herself and those around her extends beyond hair these days, though. Sure, she'll note that "Daddy's wearing flip-flops like me" or "Mommy's got a necklace like me." But she's also noticing skin tone. Just the other day, she stated out of the blue, "I'm brown," to which I replied, "That's right. You are brown." She continued, "Mommy's brown and Daddy's brown." I kept her going.

"What about your brother?"

"He's brown, too."

"What about Kayla*?"

"She's white."

This exchange was a clear reminder that children grow up understanding differences (and similarities) in identities early on; it's their environment that shapes how they interpret them. I was so happy that, in this case, Mini Mo's interpretation was one of simple fact--and Kayla is one of her oldest buddies. Well, old for a three-year-old.

Beyond observing her external identifiers, Mini Mo seems to be owning her power as an individual. Let me just say: I know that her stepping into her fourth year means she has a ton of ego. Truer words were never written of this child, who really seems to have been self-assured and confident from day one. But when she sees strong, confident figures in front of her, she relates to them.

Case in point: Her aunt and uncle sent her Dr. Kimberly Brown's children's book Queen Like Me: The True Story of Girls Who Changed the World for her birthday. When hearing about the wise Queen of Sheba, the Sphinx-inspiring Nefertari and the determined Nzinga--along with Harriet Tubman, Coretta Scott King, Mary McCleod Bethune and many others--she kept wanting me to repeat these women's names. It was like she needed to be sure she got them down. She then agreed with the book's refrain that each one was "a queen like me."

Sure, she's a kid who loves books and beautiful images like any other kid, but Mini Mo's increasing literacy surrounding her identity and those of others leaves me happy about the messages she's internalizing at this young age and at this historical moment. Would she have been able to see a mannequin with afro puffs even ten years ago? Doubt it.

As she grows older and becomes increasingly aware of forces that might counter these messages, it may be harder for our family--and her teachers, I hope--to maintain them. But we're planting seeds, and I'm confident they'll bear good fruit. Besides, Mini Mo also seems to have an affinity for truth...like me.

*Not the cutie's real name

My Book is a Toddler!

My toddler!

Happy 2nd birthday to my book, Getting Hair "Fixed": Black Power, Transvaluation, and Hair Politics! As I reflect on my 2-year-old, a historical and literary look at the various politics surrounding the afro before, during, and after the Black Power Movement, I think of transvaluation and present-day implications for the concept. Regardless of apparent trends associated with kinky, afro-textured hair these days, it's clear that transvaluation is still very much part of the picture.

As I explain in Getting Hair "Fixed," I use the term transvaluation in the same way that Eddie S. Glaude, Jr. does when he describes it as "a fundamental psychological and cultural conversion from [black people's] socialization as a subordinate people to a self-determining nation."* Indeed, Glaude provides this description in the context of freedom struggles that fomented many Black Power initiatives, and I apply this term to the embrace of afro-textured hair during the Black Power era specifically (roughly the mid 1960s to the late 1970s).

In spite of the historical contexts and current trends, I'm noticing that transvaluation does creep up in discussions surrounding natural hair and transitioning in particular. One interesting example is Zina Saro-Wiwa's insightful NY Times op-doc titled "Transition." (Sorry! There seems to be no way to embed the video!) As Saro-Wiwa explores various types of natural styles and the women who've chosen them, she herself embraces her natural texture and comes to this transvaluative conclusion:

While so many naturals I’ve met are happy to be part of a movement, almost none I encountered consider it political. They back away from any talk about "black power." I can see why a highly individuated movement characterized by joy, self-discovery and health concerns doesn’t at first appear political, but in a post-racial America, this quiet, internal shift toward self-acceptance is, to my mind, the most potent and political act of all.

It's not necessarily an in-your-face, fist-in-the-air approach that makes this growing natural hair movement political or transvaluative. For many women--not all--it is about self-acceptance, which is why it is often so life-changing. Saro-Wiwa notes that going natural changed the way she viewed her whole body, even her diet, and made an initially temporary decision (cutting off her hair) a permanent one. For the naturals out there, do you see your decision as at all transvaluative? Thanks for reading and celebrating my book's second birthday!


*You can find Eddie S. Glaude Jr.'s take on this concept in his introduction to Is It Nation Time?: Contemporary Essays on Black Power and Black Nationalism. Ed. Eddie S. Glaude Jr. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2002. I discuss my use of the term in Getting Hair "Fixed": Black Power, Transvaluation, and Hair Politics. Saarbrücken, Germany: Lambert Academic Publishing, 2010. 5-6.

National African American Read-In

I had the opportunity to attend and participate in the 23rd Annual National African American Read-In today at Auburn University. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay long before leaving to teach a class, but I really enjoyed the excerpts from Charles Blockson (Damn Rare: The Memoirs of an African-American Bibliophile) and Zora Neale Hurston (Their Eyes Were Watching God—classic!) that I got to hear. Created by the National Council of Teachers of English, the program encourages reading as an instructive and revealing activity while also promoting the appreciation of African American literature, during Black History Month and beyond.

I read from Trudier Harris’s “Cotton-Pickin’ Authority,” an essay from her collection of autobiographical pieces titled Summer Snow: Reflections from a Black Daughter of the South (2003). Harris is a native Alabamian and reflects on growing up in Tuscaloosa in the ‘50s and ‘60s. In “Cotton-Pickin’ Authority,” she raises the particular topic of inter-generational conflicts, what she calls the “then” generation (of those who barely got to go to school and had to work in the cotton fields) versus the “now” generation (of kids who had the luxury of going to school all day instead of picking cotton). The older folks invoked cotton-pickin’ authority at every turn, whenever it came to letting the younger folks know how good they truly had it. It’s very funny and very insightful about a way of living during an interesting time of change in the South.

What I liked most about the Read-In is that I got to use it as an opportunity for my lit students to sit in and learn about some writers they had never heard of. For a few extra points, I’m asking them to think about why something they heard might be worth exploring in more depth. I hope they really let their minds work on this one. :-)

This event was just one of hundreds occurring at various, colleges, universities, libraries, and other organizations across the nation throughout the month of February. Be on the lookout for a Read-In where you live, and join in this celebration of African American literature and history. See the National Read-In’s official site for more info!