Adoption is not something to be entered into haphazardly. One must consider all the possible outcomes, occurrences, and obstacles that may arise. This is even more true when a family (or individual) is considering a transracial adoption (when the race of the adopted child is different from that of one or both adoptive parents).

This is not a new issue in the United States. Transracial adoptions nearly stopped for 20 years, from the early 70s to the 90s, when they were condemned as “cultural genocide” by the National Black Social Workers Association (NBSWA). In 1994, after the Metzenbaum Multiethnic Placement Act (which banned any agency receiving federal funds from interfering with adoptions based on race or nationality) was passed, we saw a significant rise in these adoptions. This act, as well as the Interethnic Adoption Provisions amendment, were designed to eliminate racial discriminations within the adoption system. (1)

While the legality of transracial adoption isn’t be up for debate, it’s imperative that we take a hard look at the cultural impact of such adoptions.

Developing a child’s cultural and racial identity is as important as developing his or her intellectual skills. They give the child a sense of pride, heritage, and belonging. Gloria Batiste Roberts, president of the NBSWA, believes that, “children deserve the right to be with people who look like them, people who understand what they are going through, who understand their culture.”  But why should it matter?

“[The NBSWA] points out that a black child growing up in a white family will never learn about his or her own culture and will therefore never develop a positive self-image. White parents can never provide a black child with sufficient information about what it is like to be black in a predominantly white society.” (2)

Interestingly, “in a study of 30 adolescent black children adopted by white parents, only 10 of them identified themselves as black; 6 said they were ‘mixed,’ and the rest tried to avoid a racial identity altogether by saying they were ‘human’ or ‘American.’” (3)

If a Black, Chinese, or Brazilian child is adopted by a White family, at some point questions are going to arise as to why they look different. (I refer to White families here because, in transracial adoptions, Whites are more likely to adopt than are other races.) And no matter how hard I try, I cannot personally identify with the struggles of those who don’t look like me because I’ve never experienced them for myself. Sure, I can hear about their stories and comprehend them as I would a movie or fiction book, but having never lived them out, my “knowledge” can only go so far. The same proves true for parents. A White parent cannot adequately explain what it’s like to be anything other than White in America.

Some might say that none of this race talk really matters; that kids should be raised by whomever is willing to provide a loving and supportive home. And while that may be true, there are certain issues that can’t be overlooked.

For a Black child, one of those issues would be the history of Blacks in America, beginning with the origins of the Atlantic Slave Trade. While White parents may understand and be able to articulate the concepts, ideas, and history of slavery in America, it may be difficult for the child to process the fact that someone who looks like their parent once owned someone who looked like them. No doubt this would bring about some confusion in the child’s mind.

Perhaps equally as important is ensuring that the child develops a healthy self image and self  respect. With America being heavily undated and influenced by Euro-centric concepts of beauty, it’s crucial for children of color to understand that they are no less beautiful or attractive just because they don’t “match” with those around them. Nowhere would this lesson be more important than in the home. It would prove to be a challenge for White parents to effectively affirm a child’s appearance when they’ve never known the issues associated with creating a positive self image in spite of the mainsteam, Euro-centric image that America deems as beautiful.

Newsweek finds that, “according to a study published last year by the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute, transracial parents are often ill equipped to raise children who are themselves unprepared for the world’s racial realities.”

In an interview with ABC News, Rita Taddonio, director of the Adoption Resource Center at The Spence-Chapin Adoption Agency in New York City, which facilitates many transracial adoptions, says, “If you look around your table and your guests are all the same color, if you don’t have diversity around your kitchen table then you shouldn’t be adopting a child of a different color.”

“We recommend parents connect to the black community, that they make sure they have friends in those areas, that they go to a black church or be part of the community as well,” Taddonio continues. “Every parent’s job is to help them form an identity, it’s just an additional layer of complexity when your child’s identity has pieces of it that you don’t own.”

We’ve talked primarily about Black children and White parents thus far. But in all fairness, what would happen if the situation were reversed? What if it was a White child being raised by Black parents? That’s the topic examined by a 2009 Newsweek article entitled, “ Raising Katie: What adopting a white girl taught a black family about race in the Obama era” covers. The article states:

Katie [the white daughter]… has sometimes struggled with her unusual situation, and how outsiders perceive it. When she’s not drawing, swimming or pining after teen heartthrob Zac Efron, she’s often dealing with normal kid teasing with a nasty edge. ‘They’ll ignore me or yell at me because I have a black family,’ she says. Most of her friends are black, although her school is primarily white. And Terri has noticed something else: Katie is uncomfortable identifying people by their race.

But even if Katie feels different now, the Riding-Smiths [her adopted family] have given her both a stable home and a familiarity with two ethnic worlds that will surely serve her well as she grows up in a country that is increasingly blended.

If Blacks would adopt their own, Whites wouldn’t have to, right? “Census studies indicate that blacks adopt at about the same rate as whites, but to successfully place all the black children available for adoption [with black families], experts estimate blacks would need to adopt children at three times the rate of white families.” (4) While there are significant societal issues which have lead to the high population of Black children waiting to be adopted at work, many would also argue that there is a systemic bias against Black families who wish to adopt.

Many private adoption agencies can charge fees well into the thousands of dollars, and some feel a certain taboo behind paying for a Black child. Agencies which may not be privatized are normally geared more towards the White middle-class in their mindset and operation, believing that many Black families don’t have what it takes to adopt a child from foster care. The Black families may be subject to higher levels of scrutiny when it comes to their living conditions, income level, or background as well. All in all, the process is much more challenging for a Black family than it would be for a White family if all things were considered equal.

At the end of the day, perhaps it’s more of a personal choice than anything else. In an age where families and children are becoming more and more racially and culturally mixed, perhaps transracial serves to further blur the lines of how we define race in America. Or perhaps it delineates the lines even more. What do you think?

[Written by Stuart McDonald for Elev8.com. For more from Stuart, check out his personal blog, follow him on Twitter, and connect with him on Facebook.]

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My son had eczema at birth until 10 months old and we were prescribed prescription Elidel and were told to use on all areas where the eczema irritated his skin.  We didn’t know that it was causing thinning in his skin and the possible risk of cancer.  We learned early on about the side affects.  There are so many users of atopic creams and a lot are unaware of the dangers.

Eczema or atopic dermatitis is one of the most common skin disorders seen in infants and children, affecting 10 to 15 per cent of the childhood population,” states the FDA.

A few years after approving the drug, the FDA decided there was a cancer-risk associated with Elidel. In a public health advisory published in March, 2005 (an advisory that was also aimed at Protopic, another anti-eczema product made by Japanese company Astellas), the FDA recommended that Elidel only be used as a “second-line agent for short-term and intermittent treatment of atopic dermatitis (eczema) in patients unresponsive to, or intolerant of, other treatments.”

Adults or children with weakened immune systems were advised to avoid the drug. The FDA also urged parents not to use Elidel on kids younger than two years old.  In addition to possibly hurting people’s immune systems, the FDA admitted that Elidel might also be carcinogenic.

“Animal studies have shown that three different species of animals developed cancer following exposure to [Elidel and Protopic] applied topically, or given by mouth, including mice, rats and a recent study of monkeys,” the FDA explained.

“As of December 2004, the FDA had received 10 cases of postmarketing reports linking Elidel with cancer-related adverse events,” added the public health advisory. “Four cases occurred in children, three of these in children less than six years old. The other six cases occurred in adults.”

There are other safer ways to treat eczema.  You can hear my story here and I can help you or your love one get rid of it for good.  You can make smart and simple changes in the products you are using in and around your home.  Know the facts.

Are you tired of suffering from eczema?  You don’t have to anymore.  I can help you.

For more information on how to safely treat skin eczema, click here and follow treating eczema on twitter

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I didn’t chastise him for using the word butt instead of bottom.  I actually burst out laughing.  But then I stopped laughing and took a long hard look in the mirror.  And guess what?  My five year old was absolutely right.

Let’s keep it real.  I used to say it was baby fat from having a baby.  Heck, Josh is five years old now!  A’int that much baby fat in the world!  It’s bad English but you get the point.  I also had knee surgery in November of last year  Now that’s a viable excuse right?  WRONG!  The physical therapy I was put through to rehab the knee clearly indicates I can do more than sit at my desk!  So I got off of my big butt and purchased an exercise bike.

This is very humbling because I ran track from like the fifth grade of elementary school all the way through college.  Whenever I go home to Jersey, a few people will be so bold to ask:  “What happened to you?  How did you get so big?”  I always say one word:  Eating.  Is there another way?  I’m working right now on a show called “My Black Is Beautiful”.  We have been doing some research regarding black women and their health.  It’s no surprise to know that a lot of black women don’t work out because we don’t want to mess up our hair.  It may not be a surprise but it is sad.  We are dying of heart disease and diabetes at a higher rate than any other group of women.  Hey but we’ll look cute right?  WRONG!  There’s nothing cute about being out of shape.

Let’s talk about this whole concept of being “thick”.  I’ve had brothers tell me and other women I know that they like ‘em thick like me.  Ur ra ta…here’s a newsflash:  You Are Not Thick.  You Are Fat!  I’ve decided to no longer be fat.  I am not trying to look like these Hollyweird women either.  You know the ones who look like they could really use a sandwich and a bag of Dorritos?  However, I do want to be healthy.  I want to be around for my son.

So I’m professing right here and now that I will continue my three days a week workouts and one day on the weekend.  I’m on a mission.  Yes I’ve read the scripture that says our bodies are temples.  I know that overeating is gluttony.  I get it.  But I won’t lie either and say I will never have another White Castle burger again in life.  I doubt I will turn down my mom’s homemade sweet potato pie the next time she visits southern California or I’m on the east coast.  BUT!  What I will do is not eat three and four slices of pie.  I will not go crazy on the White Castle burgers when I am on the east coast.  Thank sweet peppermint patty Jesus there’s no White Castle here in California!  Chile Please!

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Eczema can be really tough to deal with this time of the year.  Is it itching out of control?  It can be really tough for kids to deal with, the condition worsens during this time of the year and if not treated properly, it will continue to get worse.

Also known as “eczema,” atopic dermatitis is a chronic (long-lasting) skin condition. It causes dry, itchy, irritated skin that can require daily care. Most people (90%) develop atopic dermatitis before age 5.

Atopic dermatitis is not contagious, so there is no need to worry about catching it or giving it to someone. This skin condition tends to run in families. People who get atopic dermatitis usually have family members who have eczema, asthma, or hay fever.

Signs and Symptoms

• Extremely itchy patches of skin. The skin may not always itch. The itch can come and go.

In infants, these patches tend to develop on the scalp and face, especially on the cheeks. Teens and young adults are more likely to see patches on their hands and feet. Other common sites for these patches are the bends of the elbows, backs of knees, ankles, wrists, face, neck, and upper chest. The patches may not always appear in these areas; they can occur anywhere on the skin, including around the eyes and on the eyelids.

• Rash. This often appears after the itchy skin is scratched or rubbed, but not always. A rash can occur even when the skin is not scratched.
• Skin can swell, crack, “weep” clear fluid, crust, and scale.
• Patches may bubble up and ooze or be scaly, dry, and red.
• Without proper treatment, the skin thickens to protect itself from further damage caused byscratching.

Causes
While the cause of atopic dermatitis is not fully understood, researchers believe a complex interaction of several factors — the genes we inherit, where we live, a breakdown of the outermost layer of skin, and a malfunctioning immune system — leads to atopic dermatitis.

Steroid creams like elidel can be very dangerous to apply to the skin and can cause cancer.  Try natural remedies before taking medications, eczema can be treated safely.  My son is now 6 and is eczema free.

For information on how to safely treat eczema, click here

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Where are you from?
KP – Queens, New York.

Do you miss the city?
KP – Not terribly.  I miss the energy of the city.  I miss shopping.  I miss what I love most about New York.  It’s a great melting pot.

What was your childhood like?
KP – That’s a loaded question.  My childhood was rich spiritually.  And at times confusing because it was old school Pentecostal.  I had a lot of questions that were not being answered and could not be answered but I still asked them.  And when we were coming up children were supposed to be seen and not heard.  On the natural side it was challenging.  My parents split up when I was really young.  My mother was 22 years old raising three children alone in the ‘70’s.  My father died when I was nine years old.  My mother left my dad because he was a preacher in the church who left the church and backslid.

How did your dad backslide?
KP – There was alcoholism and drug abuse on my dad’s side of the family.  He was the only person in his family who was saved.  He had a real battle because he would go to church on Sunday and his entire family would stay home.  They didn’t do church.  He had an inner battle and it got to be too much for him.  He was a black man in the ‘70’s with a family to take care of and realized after the fact that he wasn’t really ready.  His dad died when he was really young and he had no male figures to really look up to.

What was the toughest time of your childhood?
KP – I remember being homeless and sleeping in my mother’s car when I was four years old.  I remember my mother would go to family members on my dad’s side and ask can my sisters and I stay with them.  Even if we could  sleep on the floor.  I remember them telling my mother there’s no room for us in the house and telling my mother she’ll be fine.  I remember my mother bundling us up in coats with tears in her eyes and taking us to sleep in the car.

How did that experience shape you as an adult?
KP – As an adult, I have to be honest and say that there’s not much that I’m afraid of.  But I work the way that I do because I have a bit of fear of homelessness.  I have to believe God to deliver me from that.  I have such a vivid memory of being homeless.  I remember I would not get my nails or hair done unless I had a show because I felt like it was money that did not need to be spent.  I’m talking about Kelly Price, “The Soul of a Woman” record.  I would have to give myself a reason to go to the mall and shop.  I don’t splurge shop.  I have too much in my closet to spend money on clothes.

How did you meet your husband?
KP – I met Jeffery when I was 13 years old at the state youth convention.  We were friends for years.  We would see each other during the conferences held throughout the years.  It was a different day.  When I saw him it was because we were in church somewhere.  He would come to wherever I was singing.  I always had a lot of guy friends and he was one of my really good guy friends.  It shifted when I turned 16 years old.  We talked to each other about things we couldn’t talk to other people about.  My family was homeless again when I was 16 years old and Jeffery’s mother was in the hospital with breast cancer.  Back then you had to have a physical address to be registered in school or the state would take you from your parents.  I had to keep it a secret.  Jeffery knew that mother and I were bouncing from house to house.

When did you know you were in love with Jeffery?
KP – I knew pretty quickly.  After being his friend for so long…my family bounced around for about five or six months with no place to live.  During that time his mother died from breast cancer.  Throughout her sickness and my homelessness we got closer and closer.

Tell me about getting pregnant at an early age.
KP – I look at my son and I do not regret my son.  I will never let some over religious, super pious, lying individual and I say LYING (all caps) make me feel guilty about my child.  I say that because it takes a lot of nerve for someone to act as if they’ve never sinned.  My grandfather is a COGIC bishop.  It was difficult.  I think I was more concerned about my grandparents being disappointed in me.  No one talked to me about sex.  My mother didn’t talk to me because no one talked to her about sex.  Much of what I learned I learned from school and television.

Did anyone in the church try to convince you to abort?
KP – No one tried to get me to abort.  But I was silenced and sat down.  It was desired that I get up and apologize before the congregation.  I have a girlfriend who’s father was her pastor and she got pregnant and she had to get up and apologize in front of the church.  I said absolutely not.  I sinned against God and not the church.  I bucked a lot of things growing up.  I got slapped in the mouth a lot.  If you couldn’t show me in the bible where I owed the church an apology then I wasn’t going along with it.  I owed God and my grandparents and my mother an apology.  I was involved in the music department.  I only did that because my grandfather said I had to.  As the preacher’s kid you did not have options.  But I had to sit down and not direct the choir any longer.

How did you get discovered as a singer?
KP – I had a dear friend name Darryl Douglas.  He was an incredible song writer and arranger.  He would use me to demo his songs.  One thing led to another.  There was another session singer who sang for Luther Vandross.  Her name is Cindy Mizelle.  When she was getting married, she asked Darryl to do all of the music for her wedding.  There were a lot of executives at her wedding.  At that time, George Michael came to New York to do an east coast tour.   He was looking for a great choir to back him up.  Cindy put in a call to Darryl who then called me and some others.  There were about 10 or 12 of us.  We showed up to Madison Square Garden and sang behind George Michael in January of 1992.  In February of 1992, Mariah Carey needed a choir for her Grammy performance and once again we got the call.  Long story short, Mariah was three hours late for rehearsal.  I just found out I was pregnant and I was sick as a dog.  We were on a break and I stayed around the rehearsal hall and started singing around the piano with my back to the door and Mariah Carey walked in and stood there and listened.  Someone told me Mariah was standing at the door listening and I shut up immediately and walked away from the piano.  I didn’t want anyone to believe that I was trying to be heard.  When the rehearsal was over I was preparing to leave, Mariah sent one of her background singers to me and he tried to get me to start singing again and I said no at first but then I started singing and she was hiding behind a pole listening.  Tommy Mottola arrived and heard me and said I’m going to make you a star.  I had no idea who he was at the time.  I looked at him and said “really” (dripping with sarcasm).  That’s how it all started.

How did church folks respond to you singing secular music?
KP – Are you kidding me?  According to them I was probably going to hell faster for singing secular music then for being pregnant.  That’s amazing to me.  My observation of the scripture that says having a form of godliness but denying it’s power…it came to life for me.  It’s been so clear that if you keep the form of godliness in public people really don’t care how ragedy your life is behind closed doors.  As long as you don’t do anything that brings them to shame.  I don’t have a problem doing what I do because I am the same Kelly in secular venues as I am in church pulpits.  I speak Jesus at my R&B concerts.

How have you been received by the Gospel music industry?
KP – It’s been a mixed bag.  Everyone at first was overjoyed.  Some of that joy turned to dismissal when people realized that I was not willing to make the announcement that they wanted me to make.  That announcement was for me to say that I was wrong for all of the years that I sang R&B and that I had been converted and that I would never sing R&B again.  I refused to make that statement because I didn’t backslide to sing R&B.  Doing  the gospel album that I did and touring with gospel artists opened my eyes to a lot more than I even cared to know about people who sing gospel music.  We need to be careful about what we’re allowing our young people to listen to.  I say that because I’ve been on the road with a lot of these people and just because the genre is gospel doesn’t mean that the music itself is.  Just because people call themselves gospel singers, that’s just a title and doesn’t mean they’re living a sanctified life.  Check my life.  Chile Please!

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Watch What You Put In Your Ears

He had my immediate attention. I asked him to repeat what he had just said. He stated more confidently and louder (as if my hearing was the problem) that White people hated Black people.  I suffered a familiar sinking feeling (which I now know to be dread), to which I succumb when my (then) child (now children) says (say) things that will cause potentially embarrassing or awkward situations.

My stomach seemed to seize and plummet simultaneously. I knew I had less than an instant to intervene, because upon his second pronouncement, my highly excitable, easily offended, very opinionated mother had screeched out an unintellible response from the next room. I heard her rapid footfalls, advancing toward the kitchen. I knew that if I didn’t do something, my son would be terrorized into thinking he had personally done something wrong, which warranted Granny’s warlike response to his statement. In an instant I relived visions of myself in the same position, on the receiving end of my mother’s ill-timed rants in response to an innocent question or statement. Our one-sided conversations went something along the lines of:

“Mommy what is sex?”

“Sex? Who told you about sex? What filthy-mouthed heifer is polluting your mind with that garbage? I bet it’s that fast girl down the street. I told you to stay away from her and her ol’ nasty friends. They’ll probably be pregnant and on welfare before they make it to high school. She’s nasty! You hear me? I see the way she let’s boys slop all over her. But you don’t listen to me! I’m gonna go tell her momma all about her nasty daughter! You are not allowed to go to her house any more! Do you understand me, Sheeri?!”

“Mommy?”

“What, Sheeri?”

“I saw it in the paper.”

I was surprised by my son’s statement. I knew that he had not heard that sentiment expressed at home. His father and I deliberately did not speak of sensitive racial matters in front of him at that age. We took pains to educate him about his heritage, on the level that a kindergartener would understand. On the whole, however, he was largely unaware of the subtle forms racism took. He had never experienced any overt forms until quite possibly the instant that he received this information he was now sharing.

My mother was already fuming. Before I could silence her, she spewed out something along the lines of: “I told you not to send him to that White school. I knew something like this was going to happen. You know we are surrounded by the Klan out here.” My son was already getting scared. I silenced my mother with an urgent stomp and a hard stare. She got my message and held her tongue. I drew my son’s attention back to me. Calmer and a little more in control of my own emotions, I knelt down so he and I could be eye to eye, and I spoke in the calmest, friendliest tone. Our conversation went something like the following:

“Hey Buddy, where’d you hear that?”

“Jennie (not her real name) told me.”

I remember thinking, who the heck is Jennie? Of all the little girls in Chase’s class, I could not ever remember meeting a Jennie.

“Does Jennie hate Black people, Chase?”

“No.”

“Does anyone in Jennie’s family hate Black people, Chase?”

“No.”

“Then why would she say that, Buddy?”

“I don’t know, Mommy. She just did.”

I went on to explain to him that there are some White people who do hate Black people, that there are some Black people who hate White people, and that we Mitchells hate no one, but do our best to love and to pray for our enemies as well as our friends. We talked about how God did not create us to hate anyone, and that it makes the Holy Spirit very sad when we do. I reminded him God made us to love each other.

At this point in his life, my son was already saved. He understood what sin was, who Jesus was, and what he had done for him on the cross. Of his own volition a little less than a year prior, he had asked Jesus to come into his heart. I had had the privilege of being there, and to lead him in the salvation prayer. He knew that people did bad things because they wanted to, and that God let them, even though he did not approve. I let him know that hating people for any reason was a sin. I assured him that I would speak to his teacher and ask why Jennie had said what she said. That was good enough for him.

My challenge was going to keep my mother from polluting the air with cries of injustice and retribution until the matter had been settled. I love my mother. But she is a firecracker!

I made good on my promise and mentioned the conversation to Chase’s and Jennie’s teacher, Miss April. Surprised, she agreed to speak to Jennie’s parents. She assured me something was amiss. “That doesn’t sound like them,” I distinctly recall her saying. She spoke to Jennie’s mom and dad, then got back to me. The whole matter took perhaps a few days. I was ill prepared for her explanation. Perhaps you won’t be as much so.

Jennie had older siblings. Her parents had taken it upon themselves to educate their older children on the Civil Rights Movement in honor of Black History Month, by watching the PBS presentation of “Eyes On The Prize.” The older children had watched and discussed the series with mom and dad, while Jennie had wandered in and out from time to time, not showing much interest. She did, however, glean one thing from the program. This was the information she shared with my son.

As Miss April was sharing the details with me, I stood speechless. I had expected something quite different. I don’t know what I had expected exactly, but it wasn’t what Miss April shared. I was incredulous that this White family had taken the time to educate their children about the Black struggle in America. There are few documentaries that rival EOP for quality, flow, vivid imagery, and brutal honesty. I was pleasantly surprised. Miss April, who is also White, told me that her immediate and birth families both celebrate Black History Month every year, and go to great lengths to make sure that in their corner of the world there is no room or excuses made for racism or discrimination. I believe her declaration included something like, “No Rednecks Allowed.” One of their yearly rituals was to watch, you guessed it, “Eyes On The Prize,” so that in her words, “we never forget.” Wow.

I had no words, so she continued. She went on to tell me that Jennie’s parents were absolutely mortified by what their daughter had said and expressed repeated, deep remorse and concern that I and my family had been wounded. I assured Miss April that we were fine and even encouraged. I asked her to convey to Jennie’s parents that we bore them no ill will and stood ready to laugh with them over the “darnedest” things children say. Miss April encouraged me to pick up Chase early the next day, as Jennie was a half-day student. That way I could “run into” Jennie’s mom and assure her personally. She seemed to think it would go a long way. I was certainly willing. Heaven only knows how often I have been the victim of enough of my child’s poorly timed, ill-worded proclamations as to readily offer forgiveness and reassurance to any parent in a similar bind. I felt this mom’s pain.

The next day Jennie did not come to school.

The week after that, Jennie stayed much later than Chase’s usual pick up time – so I missed her mom again. After a couple of weeks of  “missing” Jennie’s mom, I asked Miss April where they were. She sighed and explained that Jennie’s mom was still so embarrassed over her daughter’s remarks that she had been deliberately avoiding me. Not wanting to press, I figured I would bump into her eventually and set her mind at ease. But I was wrong.

Not long after Black History Month ended, Jennie stopped coming to school. It seems her father landed a job in another state and the family relocated. I never saw Jennie again and I never met her parents.

Upon hearing the news, I experienced deep disappointment. What a missed opportunity for two Christian households to come together and celebrate the One who unites us all.  If I could have met them, I would have extended my forgiveness and thanked them for making the effort to educate their children.  I would have shared some of Chase’s “doosies,” which had had me backpeddling with strangers and family members alike, trying to explain what my child “really meant to say.” I am sorry to say that I never got that chance.

What I did get was a good lesson in not assuming the worst about people – especially where race is concerned. Whenever I am tempted to make broad, sweeping generalizations about White people, I remember my friends from Chase’s former school, which include but certainly are not limited to the principal, Chase’s kindergarten teacher – Miss April, Chase’s fly first grade teacher – Miss Aimee, and most of all the family I never met, who made an effort to teach their children about Black History.

I wish Jennie’s family every success and hope that they are still making the effort to provide their children with a multi-racial/multi-ethnic education.

Happy Black History Month! Spread the Love. Share the vision.

Be blessed Family!

Written by Sheeri Mitchell for Elev8.com. Follow Sheeri on Twitter! or visit her on Black Planet.

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I’ve compiled a list of 20 questions for all of us who enjoy the awards season.  I look forward to your responses.

1.    Do you think Lil’ Wayne heard the “Pants On The Ground” song? Maybe I’m just old but I don’t understand the point of wearing a belt and your pants are under your butt!

2.    Would you be mad if Pink got whatever was dripping off of her on your new Grammy outfit and hair?  On the real, Pink’s performance was probably the hottest.

3.    Does anyone know what Michael Jackson’s daughter Paris was talking about?  I’m all for the kids coming out to support their dad and all, but can we prep these babies first?

4.    Slash I recognized.  Dougie Fresh is still fly.  But who was the Precious look alike on the stage with Jamiee and ‘nem?

5.    Did anyone on the West Coast know or care that the Stellar Awards was on last night?

6.    Do Jay-Z and Beyonce need to work on their PDA?  I haven’t seen a hug that awkward since Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley kissed.

7.    Speaking of Michael Jackson, where was Jermaine, his patent leather hair, and his son Jermajesty?  A tribute ain’t really a tribute without Jermaine and his shoe polish hair.

8.    Would anyone really give two hoots about Taylor Swift if not for Kanye West?  Taylor Swift is a big ole glass of wack juice!

9.    Speaking of Taylor Swift, Album of the Year?  Really?  Where is Kanye West when you really need him?!  When does the Taylor Swift Charity Event end?

10.    Does anyone else think Lady GaGa is overrated?  Her red carpet outfit looked like something to phone E.T.about.

11.    Now that there is a Lady GaGa does that mean it’s a wrap on Amy Winehouse?

12.    Where is Chris Brown when you need him to do a hot Michael Jackson tribute?  Can that brother come off punishment now?

13.    Did anyone else try to use your 3-D glasses from the Avatar movie to watch the Michael Jackson tribute?  I was hot as fish grease when they didn’t work!

14.    Ur ra ta…What was up with that McDonald’s commercial with the girl rapping in a white van?  Who the…What the…Why???? Were they all going to work together?  Was that a short bus?  What’s going on McDonald’s?

15.     Was anyone else confused watching Roberta Flack sing with Maxwell?  She looked so confused and lost.  What was the point of that collabo?

16.    Do you think Wyclef was really saying in Creole for all of you haters to kiss where the sun don’t shine?

17.    Will.I.Am. I get.  Fergie I get.  Uh…what’s the purpose for the other two dudes in the Black Eyed Peas?

18.      How many awards were actually handed out?  Is it me or does it seem like there was like a handful of awards this year?

19.      Does Beyonce have another prop other than that fan?

20.      Where in the world was Whitney Houston?   Why wasn’t she on this big stage?  Does anyone else panic when she’s not at an event?

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Do you have a godparent? Are you a godparent? What does the term mean to you?

Some parents pick siblings, or appoint the persons that served as best man and maid or matron of honor at their weddings. Some people  appoint their closest and dearest friends to the role of Godparents. When I speak to many of my elders they are quick to point out that a great deal of their shaping in their youth was done by the person who was their Godfather or Godmother. It is the role of an adult that a child can turn to in trust and confidence. It is a role that if honored can add quality and substance to the growth and development of that child if done right.

Godparenting is a special role that far too many people do not take seriously. When I committed to reject Satan and stand in support of  that child,  I knew deeply what I was doing. There is a book Balancing Heaven and Earth, by Robert A. Johnson. In it he calls Godparenting a profound art. “A God Parent is designated as the teacher of the inner world for a young person while his or her natural parents are the caretakers of the physical and practical aspects of life.”

A godparent is a mentor and guide for a child, one who appreciates the child’s inner worlds, emotional and spiritual. When I look in on each of mine I am profoundly proud of all. It also allows me to have that special child that I can pray for. Each one has a different relationship with me.

So what might be characteristics of sensitive godparents? Surely they would be patient, very patient, and kind to a child. They would listen deeply, encouraging the child to reveal thoughts, explorations, ideas, and feelings. Godparents would hear longings, and find ways to address them, if only by naming and acknowledging them. Godparents might teach skills or the appreciation of music, the arts, history, and more. They would notice the natural abilities and interests of a child and encourage them. They might teach children how to untangle fear and anger, and use those emotional experiences as information and stepping-stones to freedom and acceptance.

I imagine good godparents might store up stories about a child, noticing growth and changes, and reflect these to the child occasionally. A good godparent might provide a place of refuge in the storms of adolescence. And a good godparent might follow a child well into adult life, always providing the sense: You are special to me. You are on-course, you are learning what you need to learn, and you are safe. One of my godchildren has just approached a milestone. He turned 16. I recall kindly the child who was all to happy to see  me  as “cool”. Those days may be long gone, but I know that in his heart I will always have a fond spot as we share so much in common.

Contemporary children and families would be greatly supported by having true godparents around. It is a joy when you can pitch in and help out. I have found over the years that it was the opportunities that presented themselves with my Godchildren that taught me exactly what I was made of.

{For more from Oretha Winston follow her on Twitter}

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Can you rel8 to this?

“Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it,” Proverbs 22:6

You know…Facebook is an awesome tool.  To have a place where you are able to reconnect with people that you haven’t seen in years is such a wonderful thing.  It’s a surprise even, especially with those you’ve wondered about.  Anywho…the other night, I was minding my own business and I saw the request of a friend, someone I knew years ago from ministry days.  Long story short, he and I conversed a little bit via “instant chat,” and I filled him in with the details of my life.  He was a little curious that I wasn’t using my married last name and asked what happened.  After sharing with him the discovery of my then husbands double life as a homosexual and pedophile, his only response was, “I’m not sure if I’m surprised.”  To make a long story short, he asked me how I was marketing my book and decreed that I needed to use my voice to speak to the masses.  Yes!  I already knew that but when he began rattling off suggestive ideas, I was blown away.  I won’t spoil what I anticipate is forthcoming but he then invited me to speak to a group of young people at a local church.  My first reaction was, “Well…”  I could feel the himming and hawing mustering it’s head.  I had been there many times before so I immediately arrested it.  So without much thought I typed, “I’ll be there.”   He gave me the address and I prepared to make the short trek the next day.

When I arrived at the church, the crowd was a little thin and there were young people sprinkled throughout the room.  I bowed my head to hear from the Lord the direction I was to go.  It became clearer once the service started.  After the praise dance, I rose to my feet and headed to the podium.  The room was completely full, I was slightly nervous but I knew my purpose.  See…as I had watched those young people minister in the dance, it became clear what they were doing.  They were creating a foundation for themselves.  With their flailing arms and synchronized feet and heads, they were worshiping…establishing a platform for the rest of their natural lives on which they would build when troubled waters come their way.  I told them so.  I told them that just as I had, they were going to face adversity.  It’s inevitable.  Life comes in many colors and we can’t avoid the lines becoming blurred at times.  Sometimes they are so distorted we really can’t find our way.  But because these young people were praising and worshiping the God of this Universe, because they were diving into His word, because their parents were and have been training them up, when they are older and are facing adversities that look unmanageable, they can always lean on what they have come to know as truth and that is Jesus.  I admitted, there were dark days for me.  There were.  There were days that I didn’t want to be bothered with life, motherhood, work or anything else that mattered.  But…because of the foundation that I had created for myself…I made it through.  Before my world got rocked, I was a worshiper.  I studied the Word of God viciously.  I was ravenous with it.  I woke up at 5AM to pray and talk to the Lord.  I kept volumes in journals.  I dreamed dreams and waited for God to show me the interpretations.  I was in church religiously.  I tithed my time and monetarily (as often as I could).  I gave myself sacrificially to the body as a servant.  I was a hearer and doer.  I was by all accounts…equipped.  So…when my world got turned upside down, all that I had stored, all that I had been trained with was able to sustain me.  I was able to live because of the life source of God’s Word and promise, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”  I was able to make it because of all that training.

So I ask…are we training our children in the ways that they should go?  Are we preparing them for things to come OR are we assuming that they have a while before they are dealt a hand that will cause their faith to waiver?  Listen…we must be good stewards over our children.  We never know when disaster of any kind is going to strike and our children need to know what to tap into in order to receive power.  If they never see you pray, if they never see you worship, if they never see you read the Bible, that is the foundation that you are laying for them.  And when troubled waters rise and they don’t respond in the manner in which you’d hope, you can’t blame anyone but yourself because our charge is to train them.  Just saying…

To learn more about Ingrid Michelle, click here AND follow her on Twitter.

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When my four-year-old asked me about defeating the devil, I was at a loss for words – almost.

Luke 12: 11-12  (New International Version)

“‘When you are brought before synagogues, rulers and authorities, do not worry about how you will defend yourselves or what you will say, for the Holy Spirit will teach you at that time what you should say.’”

One of my favorite times of the morning is the drive to school with my daughters. After we pray together, we listen to upbeat gospel music and sing our hearts out to God. My favorite artist to play for my children (and myself) is Fred Hammond, because his lyrics are almost always directly lifted right out of scripture. No matter what kind of start the morning has had, singing praise and worship together makes it even better. By the time the girls get to school, whatever problems they have had with each other or with Mommy have been washed away in a torrent of praise.

One morning as we were singing “Let The Praise Begin,” my youngest, who is four years old, stopped us all cold with a question. Over the din of music and voices raised in enthusiastic song, Kit shouted, “How do you utterly destroy the enemy’s chains when the praises ring?” If you are familiar with the song, you may understand the built in reference. For those of you who may be less familiar, in this particular song Fred Hammond proclaims the power of praise. The line to which my daughter was referring, the line of the song we had just sung, reads, “For the chains that come from the enemy are utterly destroyed when the praises ring. Hallelujah! Thank You Jesus. He’s exalted forever. Let the praise begin.”

In an instant I found myself with minutes to go before pulling into the school parking lot, charged with explaining to a four-year-old the potentially complex concept of spiritual warfare. All of my biblical teaching on the identity of the devil, the effectiveness of praise, the battlefield of the mind, went right out the window. I drew a total blank.

I do not believe in postponing answers to honest questions, especially those posed by children. When people ask questions of a spiritual nature, I have come to recognize that the Holy Spirit is at work. I never want to miss an opportunity to share God’s truth. Spiritual warfare, however, can be a frightening concept – especially if improperly explained. As I struggled to come up with something truthful, but not so scary as to frighten my daughter, it came to me. Rather, the Holy Spirit gave the words to me.

Kit is a huge fan of “Dora The Explorer” and is familiar with all of the show’s characters. For those of you who don’t watch the show as regularly as I do, Dora is the protagonist of every episode. Her sidekick and best friend is a talking monkey, named Boots. Every episode begins with Dora and Boots undertaking a quest, which requires the aid of a map and items Dora may have in her backpack, or that she and Boots must find on the way. Swiper, the fox, is the antagonist, who perpetually tails Dora and Boots, attempting to retard their progress by stealing the very items they need in order to complete their quest successfully.

Fully inspired by the Holy Spirit, I said to my daughter, “You know how Swiper is always trying to steal stuff from Dora and Boots?” She nodded that she did. “Well,” I continued, “the devil is just like Swiper. He’s always trying to steal from us the good stuff God wants us to have. When Dora and Boots want to stop Swiper they stand up and shout at him ‘Swiper! No swiping! Swiper! No swiping! Swiper! No swiping!’ right?” Again she nodded, this time even more enthusiastically.

I went on to explain to her that when we sing praises to God, it’s like telling the devil “Swiper! No swiping!,” and that the devil responds the same way Swiper does, by saying “Aw! Man!” and running away.

She responded with a big “Ooooh!” and a smile, then promptly asked me to turn the music back on so she could resume singing. It seemed to me that she had understood. Whew! Theological crisis averted. I love God. I know that my children’s spiritual instruction is even more important to him than it is to me. That morning’s question caught me off guard, but not him. His promise in the scripture above not only applies to our standing before a body of ruling authorities, having to give an account of our faith, but it applies to any situation where people desire an explanation of what we believe.

That morning, the Holy Spirit gave me the exact right words I needed to reach Kit Mitchell with his message on the significance of praise. His explanation was simple, truthful, and age-appropriate. I’m sure that this won’t be the last time my daughter asks about deep, spiritual matters. I am confident that God will continue to give me the right words in whichever situation I find myself with her or with anyone else. I am grateful to know that I don’t need to know all the answers. I just need to know him.

I also know that he will do the same for you as you have need!

Be blessed Family!

Written by Sheeri Mitchell for Elev8.com. Follow Sheeri On Twitter! or Visit her on Black Planet.

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