Who’s a better mom than you? Anyone!

© tuttysan 2009

As if being a mother weren’t challenging enough, every year now a book comes out to tell us who is doing a better job than American moms. Last year it was Tiger mom, with her best-seller “Battle Hymn of a Tiger Mother.” It is the story of Amy Chua, the Chinese-American mom who suggested letting her strong-willed child go out in the snow without a coat was superior parenting at its best. Not to be outdone, this year Pamela Druckerman, an American mother living in Paris wrote “Bringing Up Bebe.”  According to Druckerman, French moms generally raise well-mannered kids with a laissez-faire approach.

I got the tiger mom book as a gift from my husband last year. He thought I would welcome the opportunity to impart some Chinese tough love to our daughter. After seeing the reviews, I begrudgingly started reading and could not get past the first chapter. It’s not that I don’t want to learn about successful parenting. I just found tiger mom to be self-centered and annoying. Fast-forward a year and the moderator at my support group for parents suggests we read and discuss the WSJ article: “Why French Parents Are Superior,” also written by P. Druckerman. So, on the one hand Chinese moms are superior because they are tough on their offspring. On the other hand, French moms breeze through motherhood and still produce perfectly adaptable kids who are good eaters at that. Excuse me; I’m just not buying it.

As I understand it, the general message to American moms is: “You think you are doing a good job and are probably trying your hardest; but the truth is your parenting skills are so inferior that no matter what you do, you will never measure up. Everyone else is a better mother. Every other country has better parents, so you better catch up.” What bothers me most is that these books have become best sellers, banking on the natural feelings of inadequacy many mothers feel at one point or another, whether they stay home with their kids or work outside the home. American mothers have to be doing something right, since they have risen generations of creative, entrepreneurial and generally decent people, which is something you can say about most Americans. In my opinion, it is the “no way is the right way” approach that fuels innovation and most things good in this multicultural country. Is there a best-seller on that?

My mother is the best person I know. No one comes close in my eyes. She raised 7 kids with love, discipline and spirituality – with the support of a good man. She has shortcomings and did not raise perfect kids; but we are all productive members of society who adore her. I haven’t mentioned her nationality, but if you must know, she happens to be Dominican.

I don’t need anybody to tell me how to be a “better mom than” someone else. I want to be the best mom I can to the child I gave birth to with great personal effort. Books that offer general parenting advice are great, as are friends with good tips on what worked for them in raising their kids. But I refuse to buy into the premise that any one culture, country, race or group of people is generally better at being a mom. China is not the U.S., neither is France. There’s nothing wrong with raising American kids the “American” way, whatever that means to you and your family.

Creative Love

tuttysan © 2012

Mother,
you channel life.
From creative wombs,
countless designs.
A princess, a queen
with power born.
Nature and merit
secure your throne.

Mother,
through you the source
of love is endless,
and pushing forth.
Why through great pain,
producing life.
Nurturing goddess,
you are divine.

Madre,
within your heart
my own heart rests…
in peace survives.
For when my world
just falls apart,
there you are surely
to catch me right.

Mother,
if words could tell
of such a love;
there’d be one poem
retold by all.
That in your arms
it is all right.
You are the gift
from love, to life.

tuttysan © 2012

Latino parents and education: debunking the myth

“I speak with an accent, but I don’t think with one”. Read the story of a Latino mom who is doing her best to debunk the myth that Latino parents don’t place enough weight on education.


Presenting Dominican wisdom

For a long time, I’ve thought about compiling a list of Dominican idioms and explaining their meaning to English and Spanish-speaking people alike. Idioms are often used in casual conversation in the Dominican Republic, and it’s one thing I miss about not speaking Spanish more often.  Colorful idioms make you smile as you speak, since their powerful imagery is rarely lost on anyone.

I’ve launched tumblr site: Dominican wisdom, to slowly compile these idioms as they pop in day to day conversations and to attract others who want to make them accessible online for future generation Dominican-Americans. Take a look! You’ll find pictures, translated idioms and maybe a few laughs.

http://dominicanidioms.tumblr.com/

Full circle

Every day of our lives, causality is playing out, leaving no one behind. One day, we are working on causes; dealing with consequences the next. Some days, our past comes knocking back, just to see if we learned from it the lessons we were supposed to. Sometimes, the lesson is compassion. Sometimes it is self-love. In the last month, I’ve been pushed to look at the past twice, once to learn to forgive and the other to see where I would be if I hadn’t learned my lesson.

Sometimes, the hand that held you at birth has to be the one to pull the plug off your life. If we don’t own our actions we can call this cruel, because causality forgets nothing and forgives no one. We are here to learn lessons, and learn we will – now or later. Today I stared at someone else’s life as if looking through a one-way mirror. I saw pain that didn’t heal, lessons unlearned. There was a time I wanted to own someone else’s pain and make it better. I wanted to take that hurt and make it smaller. We can share pain and it’ll keep on spreading, but lessons are rarely learned on the collective. We all have our path, our cross to bear, our blood to sweat.

Today I lost a friend and realized once again that pain can kill. The most beautiful soul can drown in a sea of circumstances, bad choices, spiritual muck. Sometimes we come full circle to realize that the lessons we were supposed to learn were not learned at all. And sometimes all we can do is stare at someone struggling through the muck, with compassion. Briefly though, for our own muck is waiting to be dealt with; our lessons waiting to be learned and our paths ready to be journeyed.

Rest in peace M.R.G.

The victory of surrender

We want to control our lives so we have a better chance at happiness. But if happiness is the goal, surrender is what we should strive for. I speak not of waving a white flag at life and giving up on dreams. I mean, bow to the presence of the moment, to enjoy it for what it is.

The thought came to me last night while I struggled to get to sleep. Notice my language: I struggled. In fact, this is what most of us do daily: struggle, try to control, fight… to be happy. It occurred to me that the reason I couldn’t fall asleep was because my life is full of uncertainties. At the end of the day, my mind wants me to work overtime to “fix” what’s wrong, “learn” better ways, “turn” every rock to find fulfilment. When I prayed for wisdom, one word came to mind: surrender. Surrender mind to gain silence. Let go.

In relationships, expectations sometimes grow higher than the enjoyment of one another. Trouble ensues shortly after. What if we surrendered expectations and simply appreciated the person we love? What if we focused on being with them, instead of what we want from them? Expectations are something we actually have control over. Surrendering expectations is the ultimate showing of appreciation and generosity.

What would a day of surrender look like? It starts with surrendering worries to live in the moment. When showering, focus on the warm water running down your spine. At the gym, feel your bones and muscles speaking to you as you stretch, run or lift. At work, focus on the joy of the task at hand or surrender the expectation that the task should be joyful.  At dinner, enjoy your meal, taste every bite. Surrender expectations that a magic fairy will clean up the kitchen, or bathe your child. Enjoy your lover or your freedom. Surrender your feelings of inadequacy or hurt. You are tired: surrender the need to do more or be more, so you can sleep.

Surrendering, in a sense, is focusing on the journey and letting the destination come when it may, as it may. Do we have the courage or the humility to do that? Does obsessing about outcomes ensure they’ll materialize according to plan? Some of our dreams are entirely up to us, but many are tied to someone or something else. Can we claim the work but surrender the outcome? Can we just enjoy that walk, that day, that piece of cake without the burdensome anticipation, remorse or guilt?

One of my favorite yoga poses is extended child pose. To me, it is the physical expression of surrender. I am vulnerable in a sitting pose with my head down, reaching my arms out as if saying to my source: “Here I am. I’m yours. I trust you. I’ve done my best and now it’s your turn. Do your will.” Sometimes, nothing stands in our way but our minds. How much happier could we be if we surrendered it?

Lecciones

Columbia River Gorge, Oregon. © tuttysan 2007

Aprendì a mirarte

sin que sepas que ahì estoy;

a apreciarte sin tenerte,

a acariciarte sin manos,

a hablarte sin voz.

Aprendì a diseñar pensamientos puros,

programas avanzados

que se transportan y descargan

correctamente en ti, desapercibidos.

Comprendì que siempre estaràs

y que està bien.

Te limpiè un cuarto en un rincòn del alma

y cuando sales te saludo,

con cariño y saber.

Aprendì a asomarme a una ventana virtual invisible,

a mirarte buscàndome

y no aparecer.

Entendì que caminos bifurcados

existen para dos;

que amarte es respetar tu silencio,

quererte, mantener el mìo.

Soñarte es compartir contigo el alma

y mirarte agradecer que me acompañes

por esa ventana,

una y otra vez

en silencio invisible

y visible, en silencio.

Entendì que el desapego

es la mayor generosidad.

tuttysan © 2012

Da pa lo do

Thinking of one word to describe Rita Indiana’s music, I can only come up with brilliant. Never has someone so contrarian to traditional Dominican values pushed so many buttons and spoken so many truths with her work. Rita is a lesbian who lives with her Puerto Rican girlfriend. The Dominican establishment hates this about her. If only she could make outstanding music, but be a God-fearing Christian like Juan Luis Guerra, right?

The following video is one of a few made by Rita and her band Rita Indiana y Los Misterios. It’s for the song “Da pa lo do” (enough for two) and it talks about the Dominican Republic and Haiti sharing Quisqueya (what the natives called Hispaniola Island) in peace. One has only to read the comment session of this video to notice the outrage of many Dominicans who cringe at the mere suggestion of acknowledging our common roots with Haiti. Why are many Dominicans so afraid to call Haitians brothers?

It couldn’t be their “color” since we share our ancestry. It couldn’t be their vodou since we have our brujerìa. Poverty is not a disease. We won’t catch it by being nice to Haitians. And if we could, we should be immune by now. There’s no going back. I doubt Rita’s message in this video is the much feared “unify the island”, which hunts some Dominicans at night. Why do we expect to be treated nicely in the US if we can’t imagine treating Haitians humanely in our own backyard? The island has been divided. That war was fought long time ago and we got the better part of it.  The island da pa lo do… and Dominicans can afford to be both patriotic and humane. Keep pushing buttons Rita.

Related post: Estranged Family

Related reading.

Here for the original youtube video link.

Sloppy Seconds: where was Tucker Max when I was in college?

In my quest for free e-books, I recently found Tucker Max’s Sloppy Seconds, classified under “humor” at the apple store. Sloppy Seconds has sample stories of Tucker’s previous books about his wild college life and beyond, plus a bunch of other stories that didn’t make it to the three books he actually sells. He says the free e-book is a gift to his fans, but it strikes me more as a marketing gimmick to lure in new readers. It works. See, up until a couple of days ago, I had no idea who Tucker Max was. Yes, I’m that removed from the American mainstream; but then again, I’ve never really been part of it. I downloaded the book for a few free laughs without knowing I was about to get transported into wild college reload where guys’ only concerns are beer and sex. Based on my experience dating American college guys and young adults, I can tell Tucker Max says the things many of them won’t, but actually think. Where was this book when I went to college in 1994?

I came to the U.S. as an 18-year-old to attend college in Ohio. I was raised in an ubber-Catholic family where my only brother took off for the seminary before I got potty trained. Out of seven kids, six of us were girls. There was always too much estrogen and not enough testosterone in our household. Poor dad. As if this weren’t enough, I also went to an all girl, Catholic nun school from Pre-K to high school, at which point I was already too indoctrinated and clueless about boys to enjoy the four years of “mixed” schooling I got before going to college.

Don’t get me wrong, once in college in the Dominican Republic, I made plenty of male friends and managed a date or two past the “prohibition” my older sisters put me on while living in their apartment. Guys are easy in Latin countries. If they like you, you’ll know it. All the girl has to do is give the guy a subtle “in” without looking too eager. In fact, you’re better off playing hard to get. Latinos get turned off by girls who actually like them back. They need to earn your affection. Hence the Latino stereotype that American girls, who normally act friendly toward a guy they like, are easy. But I digress. The dating tools I was equipped with as a naive, and extremely well-behaved Catholic girl would have worked fine in the DR, but in America, I was at a clear disadvantage. Take for example, my so-called first “date”.

A month into college I had already checked out the few Latino guys in college and determined they were nice friend material, but I was going to explore the American scene where guys looked like “the movies” (the American movies I saw growing up in the DR). Plus, I was determined to learn English fast so I could get out of ESL asap. The first guy I liked (I’ll call him SlickHair ) looked to me angel-handsome, even though I’m sure he would have hardly described himself as such. But what did he know? I grew up in an 85% mixed race Caribbean country and what I saw was exotic white heaven. But the guy was shy, stand-offish or simply intimidated by me. I didn’t know being skinny with long legs was something many American guys were into. I was hot and I had no idea! Meanwhile, this other guy (Red&Nice) had already checked me out and decided to seek the help of a Venezuelan girl to score a date with me.

VenezuelanGirl comes to me at the library and asks (in Spanish) how I’m doing and what my name was. Then she points to Red&Nice, who waves from across the room, and asks me if I like him. “Not really” I tell her. I already had my eye on SlickHair. VenezuelanGirl, picking up on my naiveté, comes up with a brilliant idea: “Why don’t you come to my house and have pizza with me and my boyfriend tonight?” I said “fine”. That night at her house Red&Nice just happens to be there. Great, I think to myself (big eye roll)… but because I don’t want to hurt his feelings, I politely talk to him and tell him as nicely as I can that I’d love to be friends, but have no interest in him otherwise. Next day in school at the cafeteria, SlickHair comes up to me looking agitated and kinda hurt and shouts at me from across the cafeteria: “I heard you’re dating Red&Nice”. What?! Since when is having pizza dating? Americans! I need a manual to understand them, I think. So, here I am tormented that the guy no longer likes me. Of course there’s no way I can go up to him and tell him nothing’s going on and that it was him I’d really like to date. I had my dignity. Defeated, I lowered my head and swore to never hang out with VenezuelanGirl again. She’s bad news.

Weeks later, SlickHair randomly calls me on a Saturday morning and asks if I want to come to his party. A party! Cool! My definition of party @18: hang out, listen to music and dance. His definition of party: getting hammered. He gives me the address and I ask a friend for a ride since I can’t drive. I get to the party at 7 p.m., even though it started at 2:00 p.m. (who “parties” that early?). When I get there SlickHair looks all excited and gives me a hug and all. Wow! He sure seems friendly and uninhibited today… a totally different person. I hadn’t been around enough to realize some people actually change personalities for the merrier once they’ve been drinking for 5 hours. I freak out. Who is this guy? He is drunk. I thought we were going to hang out and talk, get to know each other. We can’t talk while he’s wasted! “I’m going home”, I said. There were no cell phones back then. From his house phone, I call my friend to pick me up and she shows up shortly after. “I apologize”, he said… looking embarrassed. I’d never heard the word “apologize” before, but I figured he was sorry. I was sorry too, that I was completely clueless.

After the party, SlickHair gave up on me. He eventually hooked up with VenezuelanGirl’s other girl friends. He must have been partying hard that year, because a few months later he blew up and had tattoos all over his arms. I was no longer impressed, but I sure wished I’d dated him while he was still movie-star handsome. Where were you then Tucker Max? I could have used the college dating 101.

¿Cuànto cuesta un voto? RD$1,800

Durante mi viaje a la República Dominicana en diciembre de 2011, visité varias veces el salón de belleza. En una ocasión, mi estilista (una joven de un barrio humilde de Santo Domingo) introdujo junto a sus colegas del salón el tema de la política. Con naturalidad me informó que iba a votar por el Partido Revolucionario Dominicano, PRD ya que le habían ofrecido RD$1,800. Lo que escuché no me sorprendió en lo absoluto, pues la práctica política de comprar votos sucedía aún en los puntos recónditos del pueblo cibaeño donde crecí. Lo que si me llamó la atención es que una joven de trabajo vea normal que su voto, su conciencia electoral tenga un precio.

¨La necesidad, ¡qué rabia me da!¨ – Juan Luis Guerra

¿Por qué venden algunos dominicanos su voto? Se entiende que aquellos que lo hacen no tienen afinidad ni con el Partido de la Liberación Dominicana, PLD ò el Partido Revolucionario Dominicano, PRD (los dos partidos mayoritarios del país). O aún la tengan, su desconfianza en los políticos es tal que consideran que su situación no cambiará, independientemente de quien se encuentre en el poder. La desesperanza material y mental de las masas más pobres, aquellas que no tienen acceso a recursos, ni perspectivas que puedan informar su voto, termina decidiendo en muchos casos el curso de una elección. Esto es particularmente cierto en la República Dominicana, donde aproximadamente la mitad de la población (entre 42.2 y 50.5%) vive por debajo del nivel de pobreza, según los criterios del Banco Mundial.

Sin embargo, aquellos que analizan de manera objetiva la realidad económica de país, saben que el partido de gobierno importa. Tomemos como ejemplo la taza de desempleo. En el año 2004, cuando Hipólito Mejìa, ex-presidente y actual candidato presidencial del PRD, dejó el poder, la taza de desempleo era 18.4%. Bajo el gobierno del PLD, dicha taza se redujo anualmente hasta llegar a 14.2% en el año 2008. El impacto del PLD en la variable de desempleo puede ser mejor apreciada en un simple gràfico.

Independientemente de los ciclos econòmicos mundiales, que afectan a la gran mayorìa de paìses sin importar  quièn les represente, existen factores como el énfasis en la educación, el mejoramiento de la infraestructura, los programas de desarrollo social y el enfoque en la microempresa y la creación de fuentes de ingresos para las clases empobrecidas, que tienen impactos positivos constantes. Si bien es cierto que aún queda mucho por hacer para que la mitad de los dominicanos salgan de la situación de pobreza en que se encuentran, en mis viajes periódicos al país he podido apreciar un progreso gradual.

Cómo aseguramos que el progreso incluya a los dominicanos más necesitados de manera significativa? Con énfasis en la educación y los programas de promoción social. Con responsabilidad personal y colectiva hacia el desarrollo y el trabajo ético. Con participación ciudadana activa en el proceso político, educándonos e involucrándonos en los aspectos de importancia local y nacional. Asì mismo, organizándonos al demandar de los gobiernos respuestas efectivas a necesidades fundamentales.

Su voto cuenta. El 16 de mayo entre a la urna y vote con su conciencia, no por quien ¨le mojó la mano¨. Cuando los políticos se den cuenta de que los dominicanos nos avispamos y que esas tácticas tercermundistas no les dan el resultado esperado, comenzarán a tomar a la población más en serio y comprenderán que si quieren el poder deberán garantizar el progreso continuo.

Fuentes:

Libro de datos mundiales de la Agencia Central de Inteligencia C.I.A.

El Banco Mundial