Want Happy Holidays? Avoid the Holiday Spending Hangover

It always strikes me how the holidays are supposed to be so merry, but they seem to always end up being so stressful. Moms and dads want to create the "perfect" Christmas, everyone is trying out out-do the other and the whole thing turns into a mess. A lot of the holiday stress is around money, or the lack thereof. And the holidays are often the time when many families take on more credit card debt, blow their budget and avoid paying bills just to find money to buy presents. And in these tough times, overspending can be more dangerous than ever before. It has been estimated that one out of every three African American families is at the risk of falling out of the middle class due to job loss, overspending, unexpected financial crises or other issues.

Even though our spending power exceeds $920 billion the average net wealth of black families is merely $15,000. In fact, Black people disproportionately represent a major portion of Americans in debt:

• Right out the gate more Black college grads are left with more debt than white students, and the average American takes about 10 years just to pay off their student loans.

• Over 90% of African-American families earning between $10,000 and $24,999 are in credit card debt.

• 26% of Americans said that they do not pay all of their bills on time. Among African-Americans, this number is 51%.

This year, I'm imploring all families to be mindful of their budget. Avoid taking on undue stress by digging yourself deeper into debt, and strongly consider going back to basics and remembering the true spirit of the holidays. Family. Togetherness. As moms we play a critical role in setting the tone for the holidays and we also bear the brunt of cleaning up any financial messes we create. As part of my personal gift to you, I also found these great tips that I wanted to share with all women and heads of households, so that you can have a merry holiday without the holiday hangover. That never feels good.

1. Minimize all gifting and expenditures to your immediate family (You and your Kids, and husband/significant other)

2. Make a list of your income and all of your expenses.

3. After you have a very clear picture of where your money has to go you can see where you have room to wiggle room! Give yourself a very specific credit card budget and don't go beyond that.

4. Instead of buying 3 or 4 expensive gifts buy more inexpensive gifts.

5. Start early and use layaway programs for your must-have items.

6. Make this holiday season about family bonding. Check your local papers and websites for free events that will be great for you and your family.

Let's make smart decisions to close out this year that won't leave us stressed out next year.

New Orleans' Lower Ninth Draws Tourists, Not Aid

Recently I attended a conference on health disparities in communities of color. The National Health Policy Training Alliance for Communities of Color hosted over 40 journalists of all hues and ethnic origins to convene in New Orleans to discuss how we can better cover healthcare related issues and the health disparities that still plague our communities. For three days, we sat in a top floor of well-appointed hotel in the lovely French Quarter, having a lively discussion on how we can get better and more thorough coverage of the issues.

Turns out the real story about health disparities and racial inequities was but 20 minutes away, across the bridge and down Claiborne Blvd in the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans. The Lower Ninth ward was destroyed during Hurricane Katrina five years ago. The area was the hardest hit when the levees broke and the low-income community residents were the last to get help. The images of bodies floating through the water still haunt me.

One would have no idea of what is still going on in the Lower Ninth Ward by walking through the downtown area of New Orleans. I too, enjoyed walking up and down Bourbon Street, looking at all the new apartments, shops and restaurants that were alive and bustling in the downtown area. There, you would think Katrina never happened. The city looks like back to business as usual.

Tale of Two Cities, Still

I've never been one to take things on face value. It is my experience that in most urban environments there is almost always a tale of two cities, and the tale of the brown city that exists across the railroad tracks or the bridge or whatever socioeconomic divide exists in that particular locale, is almost always starkly different.

So when a few of the local community leaders came to address us, what they had to say about the Lower Ninth Ward was appalling but not surprising. They said that of the $90 million that FEMA allocated to rebuilding, that the Lower Ninth Ward has not received any money. Nobody has been told a definitive answer as to why.

They said the Lower Ninth Ward only has one working school for kindergarten through 12 grade with 750 students and a 450 student long waiting list. There are no hospitals in the area and God help you if you need emergency care and have to travel across the bridge and across town to get it.

They expressed their outrage that tour companies bring bus loads of people through the Lower Ninth Ward everyday to gawk at their despair, yet never sharing any of their profits or stopping to support local businesses. They said that many displaced residents would love to return, but can't because there are no schools and no real health care options for the elderly.

Concrete Steps Lead to Empty Lots

On my last day in New Orleans, instead of buying souvenirs and taking in the tourist traps, I asked a friend to drive me to the Lower Ninth Ward. It looked mostly like a wasteland with a few nice new homes put up. I saw plenty of concrete steps that once led to a house, but now only lead to a field of 5- foot-tall grass. I saw where do-gooders like Brad Pitt and other organizations have helped rebuild new and colorful housing, that quite frankly, ust looks weird sitting next to devastation.

But what I mostly saw was the biggest disparity of them all--the wealth disparity. Money given to help those who have and no money to those who don't. In fact, it is clear that the powers that be have no intention of rebuilding that community. To them, Katrina has become a tragic opportunity to rid the city of some of its poorest residents--I mean, really, who wants them around anyway. So why rebuild so they can return?

Now a new plan for the Lower Ninth Ward is in the works and its message is clear: Poor blacks need not apply. New developments and higher rents are on the horizon, but there are no jobs to support them. Even though blacks built that city, created its music and its food culture, the winds of economic racism have no regard for history. So the displaced stay displaced. And the disparities linger. In health and in life.

Note: Please watch Spike Lee's latest documentary, If God is Willing and Da Creek Don't Rise on HBO http://www.hbo.com/documentaries/if-god-is-willing-and-da-creek-dont-rise/synopsis.html for a real look at the Lower Ninth Ward and the impact of the BP oil spill.

We Need Our Village Back

For some time now, I've been lamenting the demise of our "village."

When our parents grew up the whole neighborhood helped raise them (and probably had spanking privileges). And when I grew up you could best believe that any neighbor would quickly tell my mother or father if I was ever seen someplace I wasn't supposed to be. There was an "we're all in this together" mentality and a thinking that my child is my responsibility and your child is my responsibility because at the end of the day, we are all in this community together and one success is our collective success and one failure is our collective failure and affects us all.

Somewhere along the way, we lost this village mentality. The changing economic climate has dictated that we move away from relatives or that we move often because of job opportunities. As a result, we never really grow roots in our communities anymore. We don't have our extended family of aunties, uncles and grandparents nearby anymore.

This week Women's eNews hosted a screening of Tonya Lewis Lee's powerful documentary on reducing infant mortality and improving maternal health, in celebration of the second year of The Black Maternal Health Project. It was a full house. The film, Crisis in the Crib--Saving Our Nation's Babies (view the trailer here) speaks directly to preconception health, mobilizing young people as peer educators in the movement and putting a face and voice to the infant mortality issue. The conversation afterward with Tonya and our fabulous guests was even more empowering.

We couldn't understand while infant mortality remains a taboo topic in our country's agenda. Even when you remove African American statistics from the equation, the United States still had an embarrassing ranking as far as infant mortality is concerned. We couldn't understand why maternal health is absent from the current debate about healthcare reform. And we certainly couldn't understand why very little is being done to save our most vulnerable population. There was so much that didn't make sense.

But here's what was crystal clear. We can't wait for the government to solve this crisis. Yes, we have to push for laws. But we also have to advocate in our communities to remove some of the social barriers to our health issues. We need to advocate for safe places to exercise, removing toxins from our communities, having fresh fruit and vegetables available in our communities and more.

It was clear that we need our village of womenfolk. And then some.

In Crisis in the Crib, the 'Healthy Baby Begins With You' Campaign,  takes on a peer education model. It uses college students to go into their own communities and also speak to high school students about preconception health. It goes back to that "village" mentality.

That night of the screening we deployed our own village, a room full of women of all races with personal and professional interests in embracing mothers and producing healthy babies. We thought of ways we could let our own network know about the OMH campaign, spread more awareness about the problem, or help be a part of the solution.

We saw the powerful ripple effect that could be sparked just from those in the room doing one thing. For that evening, we brought our village back. And it felt oh so good.

What can you do to help bring our village back to our babies? What more can we be doing? I'd love to hear from you. Please post a comment here.

How is pregnancy and motherhood different for African American women?

If I had a dollar for every person who asked me, "How is pregnancy and motherhood different for African American women?" I'd be a very, very rich woman. Yes, the formula for pregnancy is the same for all women. Forty weeks=one baby. But the journey can be so much different. Our experience is different. Our stresses and anxieties are so different. And therein lies the rub.

For example, when I was pregnant with my first child, I prayed to God that I would have a girl. This wasn't a dress up, little princess, mini-me type of daughter fantasy, I was just literally afraid of raising a black boy. As a new parent, we already doubt our parenting skills anyway, but I certainly didn't know how I could ever raise a black man in a world that is statistically stacked against him. I was stressed and afraid.

Consider these facts:

• The number one cause of death for Black males between the ages of 15-25 is a (violent death) murder.


• One in four Black men will enter prison at least once, compared to only one in 23 white males having the same experience.


• According to the United States Department of Justice, Black males currently constitute 12 percent of the national population but 44 percent of the prison population.

I thought about how, someday, I would have to sit with my son and teach him his legal rights and what to do and not to do when approached by the police. Stress. I remembered how my own brother was often stopped for no good reason. Many times I was with him when it happened.

I remember our family's unspoken sigh of relief when my brother reached his eighteenth birthday and then his twenty-fifth birthday and was still alive, never incarcerated and college educated. He had beaten the odds. These are powerful milestones for our black men. I don't think white mothers have the same worries over their boys. And so you can understand, why I prayed to God for a little girl.

I got my girl.

But my son, Michael Jaden, came four years later.

Lately, I've been remembering how my mother would beg my brother, who was an ace student at Hofstra University, not to dress in street fashions like baggy jeans or baseball caps because she feared that he could be easily mistaken for a "thug" by policemen who shoot first and ask questions later. Even then, as a big sister, I felt my mother's pain. Today, as a mother, I know my mother's pain and her fear and her worry. It is a stress that is never ending yet powerful.

In September my son started kindergarten. And I was a nervous wreck for all the reasons every mother gets worried about the first day of school. But I was particularly anxious for a few reasons only Black mothers will understand. Reasons why my experience now as a black mother is still highly stressful. Studies show, black male achievement begins to decline as early as the fourth grade and by high school, black males are more likely to drop out. Fourth grade! We need to start asking why.

What's more, everybody, even the best teachers, has their own biases. They come from our upbringing, the influence of the media and many times we aren't even aware of them. But what if those biases affect how the teachers and principals view my son, my young black male.

Will they give Michael 3000% percent if they are subliminally thinking he will likely be dead by 18 or that his future is really in sports or hip hop and not in academic excellence? Will they see my beautiful brown boy for the person he really is?

Recently I had an unsettling experience: My son has been reading since he was 4 years old. He was the only reader in his Pre-K class and everyday throughout the school year his teacher would tell all the parents hanging around for pick up how he reads stories to the other children, helps them tie their shoes (because they don't how), and spells like a champ. He is also the only African American in the class. At the end of the school year, a bunch of moms and dads from the class got together, and their whole conversation about my son was about how fast he runs, how he wins all the races at parties, and how he has a very muscular tone for a 5-year old. These things are true. But not one person talked about how smart he is. Even though that was the messaging they received about my son nearly every day. Not one parent.

And so I'm afraid. And when I send him off to school every day, my work as a Black mother begins. My stress as a black mother intensifies. My job, raising a black male, is to make sure any teacher, principal, or school administrator sees my son for his brilliance and not the statistic or stereotype this world often perpetuates. My parenting needs to be on-point so that my son knows that he is destined for excellence, that he is not a statistic or stereotype and that he is loved unconditionally even in a world that fears him.

This is my new prayer. And I have a strong yet sad feeling that it's a prayer being echoed by millions of Black mothers all over the world. This is just a sampling of our stresses. I hope more of you are beginning to understand.

Kudos to New Moms. Taking Care of Baby Is Not Like Riding a Bike.

A few weeks ago I happily agreed to watch my girlfriend's one year old son for about two days so she could take a work trip.

"I got this", I thought. Auntie Kim is on it! After all, it was only four years ago that I had a one year old. I figured getting back into the baby mode would be like riding a bike. It was more like getting hit by a bus!

Apparently four years is more than enough time to fall off your mommy game. It's amazing how quickly we can forget the work, the juggling (literally), the organization, the patience, the lack of sleep and all the "stuff" that baby's actually require. Because every phase of childhood brings its own stresses, I had nearly forgotten about this phase.

I didn't even mention that my girlfriend still breastfeeds him (Whoo Hoo!), so putting him to bed was going to require some serious creativity and a lot of patience. I haven't rocked and walked and sang that much in years!

Truth be told, on one of the days, I had a little help. My girlfriend from London was in town--and though childless, she is a highly capable Auntie to even my own kids. As two highly educated, savvy women we set out to run errands and take care of some business with my two kids and the baby in tow.

This was my moment to shine. I felt like I was back in the zone. I dutifully packed the diaper bag, refilling his water cup, adding snacks and checking for diapers and wipes. Meanwhile, my girlfriend got my children out the door and into the car. Everybody was belted, buckled and ready to go.

We pulled out the driveway proudly, slapping high fives at our teamwork!

We were halfway to our destination before I realized I left the superbly packed diaper bag in the house!

So there we were out for a long day with a one year old, with no diapers, no snacks, no nothing! Oy!

Watching (and laughing at) my own mommy blunders reminded me how tough parenting can be in the early years. Now I remember why we rejoice at the end of our diaper days, the end of our dependence on wipes, butt creams, changing pads and more baby gear than one human being can manage. I am very happy to be past those years.

On the other hand, there's a specialness of those early years that can never be duplicated. I miss the amazing bond and comfort I enjoyed while breastfeeding--I could totally understand why that little man did not want to go to sleep without it.

But when he did finally doze off, and I watched him sleeping peacefully, I was reminded of the calm that only a baby can bring over you. The joy of motherhood. I saw my own son, little Michael, just four years ago, when I used to stare in wonderment as he slept. I saw this baby as a future strong black man, and myself as part of his "village" that will help mold and shape him. (His mom is certainly part of the village that raises my children).

I saw everything that is beautiful about motherhood.

Hope.

Promise.

And endless possibilities.

A National Day of Dialogue on Domestic Violence and Teen Dating Abuse

Last week, I was invited to Liz Claiborne's "It's Time to Talk Day" --a national day of dialogue on domestic violence and teen dating abuse, where leading voices come together for a day of radio and blogging about an issue that doesn’t get enough talk time. (Learn more at www.loveisnotabuse.org)

 

I couldn't help but feel a bit emotionally spent dealing with such a heavy and important issue. But there is another area of domestic violence that rarely gets discussed—domestic violence during pregnancy.  

 

It is estimated that one in five women will be abused during pregnancy. What’s worse, homicide during pregnancy now surpasses the previous leading causes of death (automobile accidents and falls), for pregnant women.

 

It is more important than ever that we know the signs of domestic violence and start talking about these issues in our community. 

 

Enter activist and philanthropist Malaak Compton Rock. The wife of my favorite comedian, Chris Rock, takes service very seriously (check out her many projects at http://www.angelrockproject.com/) .

 

But last week Malaak and I had a candid conversation about domestic violence in the Black community. And I think all black women and black men need to listen: 

 

Kimberly: How is domestic violence different for us?

Malaak: "The silence is killing us. I think the white community has done a good job showing that domestic violence is not a poor woman's problem. They have changed the face of domestic violence to show that educated, career women suffer as well. We haven't. "

 

Kimberly: I think that if you are "successful" and you have that positive black family image going on, there’s even more pressure to keep up that appearance and not break up another black family.

 

Malaak: “You're right. There's a lot of fear of breaking up the family, and we need more affluent women to come out of the closet. There is a fear that I'm alone. We have to take the stigma out of the issue and add more faces and voices to that pain. I think it needs to start in Black magazines and even websites like yours.”

 

Kimberly: What can our men do?

,

Malaak: "I will tell you this, my husband is very aware of how he treats me because he knows our two daughters are learning how to be treated by a man by his dealings with me. It all starts in the home. Fathers need to be involved with their daughters, teaching them what they deserve and should expect in any future relationship."

 

Kimberly: That's powerful.

Malaak: "I know this, women who are strong, confident and secure in who they are were raised by fathers who instilled that into them."

 

Even though our community has disproportionately high levels of single female-headed households, we can’t get around how important our black men are to saving our communities, our babies and ourselves.