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Celebrating & Centering Black, Indigenous and Brown parenthood since 2015

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birth/mark: transracial adoption

The Color of My Skin

by Lynne Connor

April 24, 2021 We’re almost home, on the border of Fort Greene and Downtown Brooklyn, coming back from a morning trip to Target. The weather is a perfect, sunny spring Saturday, warm enough to wear t-shirts. The cloth masks that I sewed from their favorite baby onesies are on. Because it’s still the Pandemic. Covid vaccines are rolling out and this feels hopeful. Emmy,...

June 24, 2022
Essays

Mama's Writing, curated by Deesha Philyaw

June 9, 2022

Bee Quammie | Mama’s Writing

Mama’s Writing is Raising Mothers’ monthly interview series, curated by Deesha Philyaw. How has writing influenced your parenting? I think...

by Deesha Philyaw
May 10, 2022

Adiba Nelson | Mama’s Writing

Mama’s Writing is Raising Mothers’ monthly interview series, curated by Deesha Philyaw. What’s your favorite thing about being a mother?...

by Deesha Philyaw
April 4, 2022

Nikesha Elise Williams | Mama’s Writing

Mama’s Writing is Raising Mothers’ monthly interview series, curated by Deesha Philyaw. What’s the best motherhood advice you’ve ever gotten?...

by Deesha Philyaw
March 1, 2022

Namrata Poddar | Mama’s Writing

Mama’s Writing is Raising Mothers’ monthly interview series, curated by Deesha Philyaw. Who are your writer-mama heroes?  My mom, first—she...

by Deesha Philyaw
February 7, 2022

Tracey Michae’l Lewis-Giggetts | Mama’s Writing

Mama’s Writing is Raising Mothers’ monthly interview series, curated by Deesha Philyaw. Are there days when you feel like a...

by Deesha Philyaw
January 12, 2022

Stacia Brown | Mama’s Writing

Mama’s Writing is Raising Mothers’ monthly interview series, curated by Deesha Philyaw. What surprised you about motherhood? This is the...

by Deesha Philyaw

Conversations

Neurodivergent People & Self Directed Learning: Rewiring Generational Curses

by Dr. Kimberly Douglass and Contessa Cooper

Dr. Kimberly Douglass and Contessa Cooper came together to host our first ever video conversation to discuss how self directed learning can help rewire generational curses that we all live and parent under, but particularly for neurodivergent parent and child dynamics. Please enjoy the conversation. Transcripts provided below.  Kimberly Douglass: Hello, I’m Dr. Kimberly Douglass and today I am with my colleague Contessa Cooper and we are bringing you “Neurodivergent People and Self-Directed Learning: Rewiring Generational Curses.” So, neurodivergent people and self-directed learning: rewiring generational curses—that is a mouthful.  I am Dr. Kimberly Douglass, and I am a coach to neurodivergent adults and I work with people one-on-one in group settings and also work with individuals who work with neurodivergent people and helping them be better advocates for what we need as neurodivergent people. You can reach me if you want to talk with me and I encourage you to reach out to me Dr. Kimberly Douglass on TikTok and it’s Douglass with two s’s. You can click the link in my bio and...

February 8, 2022
Conversations Front Page

We are the house: a virtual residency

A Conversation With Kya Mara | We Are The House

by DW McKinney

We’re delighted to announce Raising Mothers’ 2022 We Are The House: A Virtual Residency for Early-Career Writers, which is a year-long online residency with Raising Mothers for one BIPOC nonfiction writer. The residency is dedicated to helping early-career, underrepresented writers who are also parents build their writing portfolio. The 2022 recipient of We Are The House: A Virtual Residency for  Early-Career Writers is Kya...

June 1, 2022
WATH

Essays

Birthmark

by Chixue Yue

Around age 10, I got a bad sunburn on my face. My adoptive mother didn’t really take sunscreen seriously. She, a white woman, was always trying to tan. A cancer survivor, she liked tempting fate. She admired my skin tone, particularly in the summer months when her skin reddened and mine caramelized. The tanner I became, the more she admired (envied?) my body. “Look at the color of your skin!” she would exclaim, taking a step back to gaze at my bare arms and legs while I played at the pool or the beach, her voice a mix of incredulity and admiration. “You tan so nicely; your skin is the perfect color.”  I did not know then about fetishes and colorism; I just felt proud of my tan skin. While I never asked, I imagine my adoptive mother’s preoccupation with my skin tone was driven by her hyper-awareness of our biological differences, for these biological differences poked at her insecurity that I was not “really” her daughter. My adoptive mother once admitted that, early...

June 16, 2022
Essays, Essays Front Page

“How simple a thing it seems to me that to know ourselves as we are, we must know our mothers names.”

Alice Walker
June 24, 2022

Learning (to be) Korean

My first and worst moment as a parent occurred on the same day. My husband and I waited two...

by Cynthia Landesberg
June 16, 2022

Given Name, Taken Name

There is a popular (albeit misguided) belief that BIPOC kids adopted into white families live white-approximate lives and grow...

by Joon Ae Haworth-Kaufka
February 1, 2022

The Power of a Son, The Power of Being a Mother

Our recent heartbreaks and heartaches from the past five years shaped us to be the people we are today....

by Linda Carpenter-Grantham
February 1, 2022

Spinning

B Side We had hardly anything but proximity and seasons of birthing in common.  Only a couple of leaves...

by Maya Corneille

The Political Body

Pregnant woman standing outside against a sunset.

Three Poems

by Daisy Muñoz

Immaculate Conception The day my mother confessed  She had conceived me though IUI, Guilt swallowed her eyes.  Her voice grew quiet And shame took over her body. She had betrayed God  For a baby. Wanted something  So natural,  Motherhood, And obtained it artificially.  Throughout my life,  She repeatedly told me I was special.  I never quite understood why  Until that day.    Feliz día de las madres I think about the first interactions  Between my mother and I. She’s the first person  And place  I called home. The vibrations traveling  From her mouth to her belly— Yo sentí el español antes  De oírlo, hablarlo, leerlo, ni escribirlo. She would tell me  You ate whatever I ate In an attempt to argue I should like the foods she eats. I can’t deny I adore chiles rellenos But I also can’t digest garlic or onions. I inherited taste and malaise.  I look down to my belly button, It once was connected to my mother. And her belly button was once connected to her mother,  And my...

March 14, 2022
Columns Front Page, The Political Body

poetry

February 1, 2022

Time

Once there was a man named Time He lived at the monkey display near the lemurs The man was...

by Malia Valentine
February 1, 2022

depressions of symptom

If I ever become an acclaimed writer, I’d worry about the interviews because I don’t know many words. I...

by Camille Posey
February 1, 2022

De luto y sin dopamina

When I’m knee deep in laundry and memories, no one bothers with my title: Chief Executive Home Officer. I...

by Li Yun Alvarado
February 1, 2022

Creativity Interrupted

Read three sentences, check my email Oh that’s a good idea, I’d better write it down it’s too quiet...

by Alison Jones

Columns

A smiling woman floating in water.

Notes on the Ancestral, Collective & Personal Body

By Fae Wolfe

I feel, therefore I can be free – Audre Lorde   personal & collective body I have come to learn that my body is not just my body—it’s an...

January 6, 2022
Columns Archive, The Political Body

I Need to Tell You About My Mother

By Melissa A. Watkins

I need to tell you something.  I need to tell you that my mother isn’t ugly.  I was always told that she was. Nobody said it out loud. No...

December 14, 2021
Columns Archive, The Political Body

A home within myself

Celebrating & Centering Black, Indigenous and Brown parenthood since 2015

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