Memo to Michelle Obama: Big Food Makers Don't Give a Fructose About Our Kids

I love Michelle Obama. Her strength, professionalism, sass and savvy are enviable. And as a mom, I can only applaud her efforts to reduce the embarrassingly high obesity rates in this country. Earlier this month she spoke at the Grocery Manufacturers Association meeting and asked big food companies like General Mills, Kraft Foods and Coca-Cola to produce more healthful food. What chutzpah! Then she went one step further by asking the food companies to then market the healthy food to children, instead of the red-dye, high sodium, high calories crap they usually market to our children.

Now I can certainly understand that the First Lady has to ask everybody to join in the fight against obesity. It is certainly an all-hands-on-deck type of goal. But if she really thinks big food companies will actually do something , then I'm a little concerned. I'm hoping she figured, "well, the event is in D.C. and I won't have to miss school pick up so what the heck."

The truth is, big food makers are not going to kill their cash cow by actually making healthier food, especially when making the unhealthy stuff is so cheap and rakes in serious money. I mean, hey, if it ain't broke, why fix it? That was like asking the healthcare companies to support health care reform with a public option. It was never going to happen. These corporations are big businesses looking for a profitable business model that works. Remember the multi-billion dollar kick in the bottom line it took for the tobacco industry to actually clean up their act? Big business, no matter what public relations spin they try to put on it, only acts in their own self interest. That interest is to keep shareholders happy and CEOs happier with fat paychecks and even fatter bonuses. My child's health is the last thing on the mind.

Thankfully it is the first thing on my mind. That's why it is really my responsibility and that of every other parent to make sure their child has a healthy diet and an active lifestyle. This is particularly true in our community where studies show that almost 36 percent of black children between the ages of six and eleven are overweight, and more than 19 percent are considered obese. Among twelve- to nineteen-year-olds, 40 percent are overweight and nearly 24 percent are obese.

More importantly, we as black mothers have to set a good example by modeling healthy living and healthy eating ourselves. Our own health impacts our children from pregnancy through adulthood.

I appreciate that the First Lady has to make all the appropriate rounds (and like I said, no out of town trip required) but no parent or reasonable adult should ever expect big business (or government, for that matter) to do what we need to do for ourselves and our children. That is, take back our power as parents and as the CNO (chief nutrition officer) in our homes. When your child begs for unhealthy crap, try this novel approach and simply utter, "No!" and actually mean it. Or better say, yes, but only once in a while.

Attention world, here's how to get the food makers on board: Stop buying the unhealthy stuff. When they lose the financial incentive for making unhealthy food options then they will stop. Period. When we educate ourselves as parents so that, as Mrs. Obama noted, we don't fall for gimmicks such as a food maker marketing one healthy aspect (such as adding one gram of fiber) while doubling the calories, then they will be forced to clean up their act. Until then it's just photo opps, PR spin and back to the sodium-laden processed foods with ingredients you can't even pronounce (Someone please ask the good folks at Hooked on Phonics to produce a special edition to help us get through our food labels).

That's fine for them. But we, as moms, have plenty of work to do. Let's get down to our big business.

Saving Ourselves: We Need Our Village Back

I was walking in Harlem one day and I heard and saw a young African American boy, about 10 years old, being scolded by his father. Like most kids, it seemed like his father was telling him to do something he didn't want to do. The exchange escalated to the point where the father was yelling at his son and it became more intense. The rest of the conversation–-voices elevated, high intensity, passersby watching-–went something like this:

Young Black Boy: "I wish I could kill myself." (Repeat, repeat, repeat.)

Father: "Oh yeah, what good would that do?"

Young Black Boy: "At least I could be in heaven and I wouldn't have to be around you."

I stop in my tracks.

I couldn't move. The father continued to yell at the boy, while the mother stood by quietly holding onto a baby stroller.

Now I know emotional blackmail when I hear it and I could see this boy's pain in his face and in his body language. It was one of those moments when my mommy instinct told me to run over there, hug that boy and tell him millions of moms are rooting for him and his success.

I would add that this life here on earth can be beautiful and peaceful and full of possibilities. "And that, even when it isn't, you don't ever give up."

I wanted to run over to his mother with hugs as well and an understanding and empathetic look that would send the message, "I know, sister, it ain't easy" and then maybe share some of my own struggles in childrearing.

I knew none of these options was allowed.

Back in the day, it was a given in most black neighborhoods that everybody on the block or apartment building was responsible for the wellbeing of each child. Every neighbor could tell you off or tell your parents what you were up to (and their concern was welcome) and a few select neighbors may have had punishment or spanking privileges. Your child was everybody's child. Your wellbeing was everybody's well-being.

But, on that day, I knew that our "village" mentality has long disappeared and that I needed to mind my own business, stop standing on the corner acting as if I was lost (when I was really engaged in the drama) and keep it moving to my car.

I drove off very sad that day. I was sad to hear that beautiful young boy declare that he thought death could be better than his life. I was sad to know that at a time when we need other mothers, aunties, grandmothers and sometimes well-meaning strangers more than ever before to help us raise powerful and productive black children that we have rid ourselves of these traditions. To our own detriment, I believe.

At the time when we need full community support to improve our individual health as black women and to have healthier babies, we have instead resorted to isolationism and leave-me-alone-ism, followed by do-nothing-ism. It's a dangerous combination.

But on that day, I was even more upset with myself. I felt I should have said something, done something anything, despite the consequences. I even dreamed about it--my negligence haunting me in my sleep.

I wonder, if we can start showing African-American mothers that we care, understand and support each other, can we bring “the village” back? If we add community responsibility to the basic tenets of personal responsibility then would you take a stand for me to have a healthy lifestyle? If we rewrite the rules for what actually defines “my own business,” and say every African-American child is connected and if yours fails, mine fails so therefore, by some very fundamental rules of logic and humanity, it is indeed very much “my business,” can we bring it back?

Can we????

My Sister in the Struggle to Reduce Infant Mortality

There are sisters. And there are sisters. I consider Phyllis Rabinowitz to be my sister in the struggle to save infants who never make it to their first birthday--a cause I am passionately committed to. Phyllis joined the fight after enduring a mother's worst nightmare.

On July 21, 2006, her daughter Rebecca Ava died at 8-day-old after being misdiagnosed in the emergency room. The trauma began with their ER experience.

"The doctor was so dismissive. He was like, 'This is just a common cold. I've seen children for 20 years. I've got to get to a real emergency down the hall.' . . . No matter what my husband and I asked for, the whole experience was very condescending. We knew she was sick," Phyllis recalls.

They refused to readmit her. By the next morning baby Rebecca was septic and bleeding from the nose. Phyllis will never forget the sight of her husband desperately performing CPR and the seemingly endless ride in the ambulance, but baby Rebecca didn't make it. The Rabinowitz's ordered a state autopsy, independent of the hospital, which revealed that baby Rebecca had a common enteroviral infection, not a common cold. Had baby Rebecca's symptoms been properly diagnosed and treated she would still be here today.

Instead Phyllis and her husband, Andrew, learned in the most horrible way that most emergency room physicians are not properly trained in pediatric emergency care. In fact, very few hospitals have all the necessary equipment to properly treat babies.

"Like any parent, we were profoundly sad and angry. I was in a deep depression. We started researching for answers. We knew something was not right. We learned how all ERs are not created equal when it comes to being ready to treat infants," Phyllis says.

And then, sitting in their den, with supportive friends and family, Phyllis and her husband decided to do something. The R Baby Foundation http://www.rbabyfoundation.org/index.php was born with the distinct purpose of saving as many babies lives as possible, particularly those have some sort of viral infection in their first month of life, by improving pediatric care in emergency rooms across the country.

Today their work includes, raising awareness around infant mortality and emergency room care, providing training opportunities for anyone who touches a baby, providing life-saving equipment to hospitals and parent education (check the website for a soon-to-be-released 10-page guide for parents).

I'm a proud supporter of the R Baby Foundation and I am always inspired by Phyllis' commitment to teach parents how to advocate for their children. This for me is especially important in the African American community, where the quality of the healthcare we receive is often tainted by bias, stereotypes and living in underserved communities.

This year, the MochaManual team and I will be once again participating in the R Baby Foundation's Mother's Day Run/Walk http://www.rbabyrunwalk.org/Markslist/ext/rba/home.do?masterCampaignId=3130 on Sunday, May 9th in Central Park, New York City, to raise awareness and funds to improve emergency pediatric care for babies. There are plenty of activities for the whole family. Visit www.mochamanual.com for details for our team. What a great way to start my Mother's Day!

As for life after loss, Phyllis said it best: "My baby only lived 8 days, but she's in my heart everyday. And she inspired us to help save other babies so they could live their lives."

Text 4 Baby! : New Service Delivers Info to Moms to Be

I'm all for getting information out to expecting moms by any means necessary--especially when it's new ways to reach African American women with the information they need to have healthy pregnancies. That's why I was really excited to hear about the new Text4Baby http://text4baby.org/ service.

At first, I thought, why didn't they have this when I was pregnant? But enough of my envy. It's great to have timely information, practical tips and friendly reminders on your mobile phone. We're always attached to them anyway. Heck, we've invented a whole new texting language that leaves many of us pausing and stumped when we have to fully type out an actual word for a work-related email.

What's even more remarkable about this project is that it represents an unprecedented coming together of the government and the private sector (pause for shocking gasps!) using new technology (double gasps!) to actually help improve maternal health among underserved women (you know what to do now).

But it's true. Text4Baby is the first ever free mobile health service in the United States, and it sends free text messages to pregnant women and new moms through their first year. It also really shows the power of mobile phones and other technology to get powerful information to people who need it most. Not everyone has a home computer, but nearly everyone these days has a mobile phone.

All you have to do is text BABY to 511411 (or BEBE for Spanish) to get three free text messages each week just right for your due date or your baby's age. These messages focus on a variety of topics related to maternal and child health, including birth defects prevention, immunization, nutrition, seasonal flu, mental health, oral health and safe sleep. Text4baby messages also connect women to prenatal and infant care services and other resources, if you need them.

Please tell everyone you know. Underserved, overserved, supersized or emphasized. This service is great for all moms!

And holds great promise of things to come. " Text4Baby demonstrates the ability of mobile phones to inform and engage people to help them live healthier lives. These same tools can be applied to many of America's big health care challenges, " said Paul Meyer, chairman and president of Voxiva, the mobile health platform provider for the service.

Here's hoping.

To make this amazing resource happen The National Healthy Mothers, Healthy Babies Coalition http://www.hmhb.org/ (I'm a big fan of their work) collaborated with White House Office of Science and Technology Policy, the Department of Health and Human Services and Department of Defense Military Health System. Johnson and Johnson is a major sponsor as is Johnson Baby. Then the wireless carriers joined the party and voluntarily agreed to distribute the text messages for free. (Participating carriers include: Alltel, Assurance Wireless, ATandT, Boost Mobile, Cellular South, Cellcom, Centennial Cellular, Cincinnati Bell, Metro PCS, N-Telos, Sprint Nextel, T-Mobile, U.S. Cellular, Verizon Wireless and Virgin Mobile USA--if you're carrier isn't on this list, switch now. It's a bad message (not text) to moms, if they didn't jump on this boat! )

There's a critical mission to be taken on to improve maternal health in this country. Infant mortality rates in the U.S. are embarrassing at best and abysmal in the African American community. And if a mobile phone, fax, wooden spoon or pot and pan can help. Then I'm all in.

ConTEXTually yours,

Kimberly

Vanity Fair's Cover Sends a Dangerous Message to Young Black Girls

I often find it stressful to see how the media stereotypes black women or how it sends subliminal yet painful messages to our children. I had this unsettling feeling recently when looking at the latest issue of Vanity Fair heralding the next generation of Hollywood starlets.

It was bad enough that they couldn't (or didn't try) to find at least one person of color to include in their annual "New Hollywood" spread in the March issue. They've been taking a little heat for this ridiculous oversight. What about Gabourey Sidibe from "Precious" and Zoe Saldana? Even as an Avatar, she was still in one of the highest grossing movies of the year. Or even Penelope Cruz.

I could have stomached the photo spread, I'm pretty much used to African Americans being excluded from mainstream Hollywood. But they really went too far with the descriptive language in the accompanying story with each waiflike actress getting her respective props for "downy-soft cheeks," a "button nose," "patrician looks and celebrated pedigree," "dewy, wide-eyed loveliness," or "Ivory-soap-girl features." Ivory soap-girl features???

But is this Vanity Fair's journalistic failure and bad PR problem (hitting the stands during Black History Month no less. The horror!!) or just an accurate depiction of hot Hollywood these days?

Either way, as a mom raising a daughter, it sends dangerous messaging to all girls in general and African American girls, in particular. We've often criticized the beauty industry for their unrealistic images of Barbie-like girls and women. We've told young girls they are beautiful as they are in all shapes, sizes, skin tones and features (ivory soap or not), but then stories like these show the reality of the world all of our girls are growing up in. And what a challenge we have as moms to counteract these influences to raise confident, self-assured black girls who love their bodies, their skin, their hair and everything in between.

Quite frankly, I'm no fan of Hollywood lately, anyway. And if Sandra Bullock wins an Oscar for The Blind Side, I will be on a very long personal boycott of the award show. I mean, yet another movie about a (albeit well intentioned) white woman saving a large, menacing in appearance, from the hood with nobody else, black person. This blog isn't long enough for me to list the stereotypes in that Hollywood gem (Or in movies like Dangerous minds, Freedom Writers, The Soloist. etc.). And this is Oscar-worthy movie making??

Puh-leeze.

Attention Hollywood: there a thousands of equally inspirational stories of African Americans saving themselves (gasp!) or white people too (double gasp!), but those don't get told because they don't fit into your stereotype of who we are.

But I digress. Slightly.

My point is Vanity Fair has a problem and Hollywood has an even bigger problem. When a major media outlet ignores its responsibility to represent all its readers and its messaging to the young girls who aspire to be in Vanity Fair (or Hollywood), that's just irresponsible journalism. Read: only "button noses" and ivory-soap girls need apply.

Hollywood on the other hand has a more deeply rooted issue that concerns me as mom. For years extremely talented black female actresses like Halle Berry, Regina King, Jada Pinkett Smith, Kerry Washington, Sanaa Lathan, Kimberly Elise, Nicole Ari Parker, Lynn Whitfield, Lela Rochon (I could do this for three more pages . . . ) have lamented the dearth of quality movie roles (no crackheads

please) available to black actresses. Meanwhile, Jennifer Aniston (no disrespect, I'm a huge fan Rachel)has played the same exact character 50 million times with no end in sight.

Thankfully, my own little black girl has not mentioned any dreams of a Hollywood career because, even in this "Yes We Can" era, I'd feel some parenting compulsion to say, "probably not, sweetie." I wish I didn't feel that way. But this very "fair" article only confirms my fears.

Unfortunately for us all, Vanity Fair did a great job of highlighting the inconvenient truth of exactly how Hollywood is. New or old. And I find that reality very, very stressful.

 

Black Motherhood: Celebrating Our History, Redefining Our Experience

February is all about reflecting on black history. As a mother, our black history is a tale of troubling beginnings followed by triumphant gains. Of course, I'll never forget the moment Michelle Obama became First Lady of the United States. She epitomizes everything modern black motherhood is about, career success, loving partnership, and commitment to being the mom-in-chief of your own family command center.

But getting to Michelle Obama has been a long and sometimes troubling journey. The black motherhood experience in this country had a painful start with lingering effects that still hover overhead today. First, let's go back. As enslaved black mothers we were viewed as breeders not humans and we had no control over our experience in motherhood or our children. As slaves, our children were ripped from our bosoms and sold as we stood helpless in despair.

"Labor of Love, Labor of Sorrow: Black Women, Work and the Family from Slavery to Present" by Jacqueline Jones http://www.amazon.com/Labor-Love-Sorrow-Slavery-Present/dp/0465037569 details how pregnant slaves were forced to lie face down in a specially dug impression in the ground when they were whipped. Perhaps in the demented mind of the slave owner, he was simultaneously protecting his economic investment in the fetus while still punishing the mother.

Our experience as black mothers was always laced with pain.

But we always wanted more for our children. And even as freed-men and -women, it was also clear that we saw the role of mother as tantamount to preserving our families, our communities and to the progression of the black race. Contrary to popular belief, we have a history of being thoughtful and resourceful about our duty and power as mothers.

Witness this excerpt from a speech by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, a 19th century African American abolitionist, teacher, women's rights advocate, writer and poet. She spoke these words on November 15, 1892 in a speech called Enlightened Motherhood, an address to the Brooklyn Literary Society.

"The work of the mothers of our race is grandly constructive. It is for us to build above the wreck and ruin of the past more stately temples of thought and action. Some races have been overthrown, dashed in pieces, and destroyed; but today the world is needing, fainting, for something better than the results of arrogance, aggressiveness, and indomitable power. We need mothers who are capable of being character builders, patient, loving, strong, and true, whose homes will be uplifting power in the race. This is one of the greatest needs of the hour."

In 1902, the book Twentieth Century Negro Literature, included an essay on the responsibilities of educated black women on the black race written by Sarah Dudley Petty, a writer, teacher and preacher's wife. What were her thoughts on black motherhood?

"A faithful, virtuous and intelligent motherhood will elevate any people . . . True patriotism, obedience and respect for law, both divine and civil, the love and yearning for the pure, the sublime and the good, all emanate from mother's personality . . . I would urge then, as the first prerequisite for our work, a pure, pious and devoted motherhood."

Years later, our quest to define motherhood moved to the television screen. When I was growing up in the late 1970s and 1980s we looked to successful working women like Claire Huxtable on the Cosby Show and Vivian Banks on the Fresh Prince of Bel Air for a glimpse into what black motherhood looked like. Every Thursday night on television, Claire Huxtable, Esq, showed a generation of future lawyers, doctors and accountants that upwardly mobile black women could indeed have it all. We could raise five kids without a nanny, take care of a house, maintain a high-powered career, be adored by our husband and still look glamorous and sexy. Whether having it all is truly possible for any woman (white, black or green) is still debatable, but this was new territory for black women. For decades, this was something that only seemed possible for white women.

This black history month, I'm asking all black mothers to remember our history as women who carried our families and communities. Mothers who didn't listen when the world said we were thoughtless breeders and our children were mere commodities to be bought or sold. In more recent history black mothers have been publicly shamed as crack mothers, welfare queens, and the face of "baby mama drama." Black single motherhood is blamed for all sorts of social ills from crime to drugs to "wilding" teens. And black mothers are often represented in popular culture as neck-rolling domineering household managers who run circles around our men. Even the critically acclaimed movie, "Precious" has raised eyebrows for perpetuating ideas of black women as abusive mothers.

But I'm asking you to stay true to what you know: These stereotypes are very far from the truth. In truth, black women today have redefined black history and created a new conversation about our roles as mothers. For example, when I watched the Brady Bunch and Happy Days and reruns of Leave It To Beaver, the subtle messaging was that being a stay at home mom and catering to your child's every need was a white woman's pleasure. Black women have always worked--as slaves, as cleaners, as teachers, as doctors, as lawyers. Even our TV mamas (Claire Huxtable included) always worked.

Today more and more black women are stay at home moms (myself included), we have robust national organizations like Mocha Moms http://mochamoms.org/ to support women who are making motherhood their career (even if just for a few years or so).

This shift in our motherhood experience may seem subtle, but in the framework of our history, it is groundbreaking. And thrilling. It not only speaks to how far we have come as a people, but how far we have come as black mothers, who went from having no control over our children to taking control of our children, our lives, and our families' financial future. We now have varied and different motherhood experiences yet we still know we are doing important work that goes well beyond our home.

As we celebrate our history as black Americans, take a moment to reflect and celebrate your history as a black mother. Take a moment to celebrate you!

A Plus-Sized Problem: Black Women and Obesity

She enters the stage in a revolving pyramid and haze of smoke. Dressed in shiny gold wide-legged pants and a matching gold jacket, she confidently walks to center stage.

In a boisterous voice she calls for all the "fat girls" to stand up and take a bow. It's the beginning of a popular and very funny stand-up routine of Mo'Nique, Golden Globe winner and comedy star, a routine where she spends a lot of time making fun of skinny girls--I won't use her exact words in this family friendly blog.

Suffice to say, Mo'Nique made a name for herself in the stand up circles as the poster child of "big girls" and quickly became one of America's best-loved plus sized personalities. She even penned the New York Times bestselling book, "Skinny Women Are Evil: Notes of a Big Girl in a Small-Minded World," published by Simon and Schuster.

I gotta admit, watching her comedy clips on YouTube--the act is very funny. But really obesity is no laughing matter.

Now I know we've never entertained the same body image perspectives as white women. Our families are full of Big Mamas, robust Aunties and other big women who doled out good food and good love, both in earnest portions. And let's face it: Black men tend to like us with ample thighs and a little "junk in the trunk," as they say. Or as my Granny would say, "Don't nobody want a bone, but a dog."

But things are getting beyond a little healthy meat on the bones. Overweight and obesity has increased for all Americans across the board. It's no wonder, President Obama recently announced a new obesity reduction initiative to be spearheaded by First Lady Michelle Obama.

The problem is particularly pronounced in our community. Nearly 70 percent of African Americans are overweight compared to 62 percent of white Americans. Among black women the statistics are reveal a greater difference. About 78 percent of black women age 20-74 are overweight, compared to 57 percent of white women in that same age group. Fifteen percent of black women are classified as severely obese, compared to 5 percent of white women.

The culprits in our community are typical: poor dietary choices, lack of healthy or organic food options in many urban areas, lack of physical activity or exercise and our greater acceptance of larger body types.

The ramifications can't be ignored. In pregnancy, being overweight or obese can lead to pregnancy complications and a difficult labor and delivery. The risk of a pregnant woman of being hospitalized goes up four times if she's overweight.

The March of Dimes Task Force on Nutrition and Optimal Human Development presented a report indicating that women who are overweight or obese are 30 to 40 percent more likely to have a baby who has major birth defects such as those that affect the brain, heart, and digestive system. Among the most common obesity-related birth defects are neural tube defects, heart defects, and abdominal wall defects. Folic acid supplements, usually effective in preventing these conditions, may not be as protective in overweight women, according to some studies.

Beyond our babies, obesity often leads to heart disease and many other problems in black women. This is not about a number on the scale; it's about being healthy. It's time for big girls and skinny girls and everyone in between to come together for all girls.