The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

How can I feel proud of my country right now? Foreclosures hit 112%. Greedy mortgage brokers, speculators, and builders inflated the market, targeted the "path of least resistance" by going after elderly and minority (mostly black women) borrowers. We've been at war longer than my youngest daughter has been alive. Missouri lost 10,000 jobs in the first quarter. Wal *Mart announced plans to pull in those stimulus checks - "no fee" to cash the check and reduced prices on grocery staples - like we need to make the world's largest retailer and Chinese business partner any richer! The media plays games with politics, sound bites, and people's emotions with everything. Rev. Wright "controversy" hides the fact that white people (hello Pennsylvania) voted along racial and conservative religious lines but where is the outcry about that? 11 o'clock on Sunday morning is still the most racially divided and segregated hour in the country - when is the l...

"Ms. Taye, are we meeting today?" This was the early Saturday morning question that rang through my telephone. I could hear the yearning in her voice. She was hungry and I was ready to give her nourishment...soul nourishment. I meet with a group of promising young ladies at 10am on Saturdays. They are in middle school, one is a freshman, society would say they are "at risk." To me, they are "at hope." These young ladies live in a racially segregated little suburb of St. Louis. They face the challenges of economic instability every day. Most of the girls are from single mother households, most of their mothers were teens, all of the girls know someone having sex, all of the girls are wise, innocent, and determined. My heart is filled with them, I see their faces every morning when I wake up, I hear their voices every night when I go to sleep, they have become my daughters. I want to cocoon them from the sexual violence that rings through some urban ...

I have a beautiful four-year-old daughter. She is bubbly, has a big dimpled smile, and battles food. The other day I went to the grocery store in search of something that was soy-milk-egg-wheat-nut-treenut-fish-shellfish free. I went up one aisle and down another and read ingredient after ingredient. My heart began to palpitate and my head began to ache. The food aisle seemed as if they were all closing in on me and becoming a formidable opponent in my war to maintain a good quality of life for my youngest child. Eosinophilic Gastroenteritis. The name at one time seemed longer than her. This rare disorder - deeply associated with food allergies and tends to run in pairs with its cousins of asthma and allergies - causes the eosinophils or white blood cells to act as if food is a parasite. My baby girl first became ill with violent throwing up episodes at 12 months when I was weaning her from breast milk and introducing more diary. "Perhaps she is lactose intolerant," ...

"NO MORE!!!!!! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!" "HELP ME! HELP ME!" "OH, PLEASE IS IT OVER?!!!! MAKE IT BE OVER!" "I WANT MY DADDY!!!!!!!!" These were the the pittiful screams if my six-year-old daughter as we endured our weekly ritual of washing the hair. I wonder if the nurse who gave her the first bath accidentially got soap in her eyes or otherwise tormented her because she has never liked getting her hair washed. Now, you must understand, as the mother of sons with this one being the first girl, it was all new to me, the sheer hysteria around getting the hair washed. I tried to console her, hold her gently at the sink, sing to her, anything to make it easier. There are times I think she does it for affect. Even her otherwise brave little sister has gotten into the screaming act because of their minor water torture. She has curly hair and before age 3 1/2 never cried. Her big sister's drama is starting to creep down! Getting the hair w...

"This is fascism!" "Define that for me Joshua." "Well," he turned hesitantly and spoke to the wall, "fascism is a form of government (mom) when the people (him) is expected to follow through blind loyalty and when the government controls every aspect of their life and they are subjected to no free will." In the midst of my hidden laughter, I said, "then I'm your fascist!" It all started because my husband is in Chicago for a conference this weekend. We normally go to a diverse, large church that has separate services for each age group. I told the children (13, 6, and 4) that we are going to try something different this morning. The weather is yucky outside and I didn't want to drive the 25 minutes it would take to get to the usual church. I should mention here that we just moved to this city in mid-August and have been visiting churches trying to find our "home." Needless to say, the kids like the church that has...

I've been thinking about race alot lately. It seems as if I have no choice but to think about it. I like in Kirkwood - a suburb with race issues. I live in Missouri - a state with race issues. I live in America - a country with race issues. The whole matter has me wondering if anything will change. Why am I pondering all this? Perhaps it is because I have children. Perhaps it is because of the 2008 elections. Perhaps it is because Barack Obama is a man, to me, who happens to be of mixed heritage but is running for President of ALL of the United States. I'm not sure. Maybe it is because I read some entries on the Huffington Post or because I watched "Meeting David Wilson" or because my son went to visit a friend on Friday. My thoughts on race? I do believe racism exists in Amerca. It can be subtle like moving to the edge of the elevator when a black man enters. It can be overt like calling in racist comments to a church that happens to believe in social ju...

What is it about election day? My little suburb of St. Louis, Kirkwood, has been embroiled in a little turf war. The reasons date back to the unfortunate events of February 7th and the murder of one of the favored candidates. The scuttlebutt around the coffee shop is that the majority? of citizens don't want an "appointed" candidate for mayor, but a real election. I'm new to my quaint little nine square miles so I've been a student of local politics and culture the past few months. It turns out that some people don't like our "at large" representation at City Council. Many people believe we should be divided up into wards, that the current system means power is concentrated into the hands of a few. Others believe the racial tension that bubbled to the surface in the wake of February 7th (Community for Understanding and Healing) have also intensified the focus on the local election. The City Council, School Board, and several city Boards are 100%...

I wonder if it is the emerging of spring. Perhaps the sunshine has produced this result. Maybe it is the fact that they only have nine more weeks of school. Whatever it is, my daughter is in a tizzzy. While it is an awful thing to say, "they're back there communing with the devil," I now understood what my aunts meant when referring to my older cousin and I. The two of us, as family lore tells it, would emerge from our shared bedroom in a bit of a funk. We would sometimes come out frowning or whining or emoting something less than enthusiasm with The Funny Farm. 1968-1972, the days of my early childhood and venting of feelings. Do I have 2008-2012 to endure this mini version of PMS? My elder daughter is perhaps too much like me. She enjoys reading and writing, much like I do. She is thoughtful and caring of other people. She recognizes the "mood" of the room and can adapt quickly. She likes her clothes, hair, and possessions a certain way. She is her mother'...

Today would've been my eldest son's twenty-sixth birthday. It is hard to believe it has been that long. My eyes close and I can replay 1982 as if it were yesterday. The future, back then, seemed so far away. Today, I sit in my little office with my two daughters vying for attention, and I remember when motherhood began. Time is a fleeting thing. I was a month shy of my 18 th birthday when motherhood visited me in the night and ripped through my being. This chubby, dark haired, slit-eyed, apple-cheeked being was placed into my arms. "He is such a big baby from such a tiny girl," the nurses commented. "She did well for such a young girl." They chatted back and forth while the doctor worked to stitch together the pieces of my femininity and the nurses weighed, measured, and wrapped the baby boy who was to capture all the love I never knew existed. My journey toward motherhood began on that wee Wednesday morning. I didn't even know I was in labor, not for ...