Mia, todo Mia

I began a blog for my daughters called The Strong Models Series after being inspired by several articles I have read over the years about transracial parenting.  I have come to terms with the fact that I (and the other wonderful women in her life-  grandmas, aunts, teachers, etc.) will not be enough to build a healthy sense of self and the identity she will need to be successful.  No matter how skilled we are at loving, mentoring, and teaching her, she will always be a black woman in a white world which is something with which I cannot identify no matter how much I wish I could for her sake.  So, to try and make up for the lack of black women in her life and community (we have a couple, but not enough...most of the black women she knows personally are from her birth family and, treading carefully here..., they aren't necessarily the mentor/models that I would encourage her to mimic), I am going to pull from wherever I can to show her mentors and models of note.  My goal is to introduce her to at least one woman per week through a series of blog posts I write to her (with the help of google images, wikipedia, and youtube!).

Here is my introduction letter to her that turned into a poem.  Because this topic that is near to my heart and difficult for me to work out, poetic form comes easier, I've found.  

*Note*  I also have another, younger daughter who is black. I have begun this blog with only my oldest in mind for some reason-  whether because she's the first, her stage of life, or because of personality differences.

Mia, todo mia

You are my first baby love
miracle
maker of my identity.

You made my dreams reality
and let me learn how at your expense.

You make me proud
to bursting at the seams with
love, and admiration, and hope.

You are my quasi-creation,
and because of this,


you are a reflection of me.
Me.
Mine.
You.
Yours.
You are you.

I must remember.

You are you.

You are (lean in so I can whisper this in your ear) beautiful...
a beautiful being.  I hesitate to tell it to you first, as if your appearance is the foundation of identity, but
I cannot deny the loveliness that you are.

Industrious.
You were appropriately named.
Your drive is unbeatable.
And girl, you can work.  Hard.

Your mind goes!
 Observing, hyper-aware, processing, synapses and electrodes firing and wiring in chaos,
but wired well.

"Focus. Focus. Amelia, FOCUS."

And when you do, that energy becomes a power to behold.

You are kind.
You are tender-hearted.
You are a healer, a fixer, a doer.

You are brown-skin-chocolate.
You are brown-skin-chocolate in a world of white.

You belong here.
You belong here, but you are not us.
You belong here, but. you. are. not. me. (I can hardly type the words)
Because, you see, in addition to all that you are, you are brown.  And I am not.  And I will never be.
I will never be you.

So, it is what it is.

And although you are named after my model of a German grandmother and Dad's model of a Swedish grandmother, two who have gone before us and you, you are not them.  

You are, alone, a pioneer in this world of white.  I will be here, we all will, be right here, but you must do it alone because of who you are.

So, look to me, and grandmothers, and aunts, and sister.  But, also, look to them.  These women who I will shop for and show to you.  You, who I hope will, then, say,

Yes, I am yours.  I am these things.  But I am also brown, like them.  And I am Amelia Alice who is loved by many and spanning the divide between them all and strong enough to hold. 

*This piece is pretty raw.  I think I need to work on word choice and more interesting phrases.*