Negro, ven aca!

That phrase is completely acceptable here in Caracas. But, can you imagine someone in the US saying, “Negro, come here!”

Since early on in my travels abroad, I understood that the word “negro” had very different connotations depending on the country. Each country has its own history and for the most part, the use of it still very common. While I was studying abroad in France, a friend of mine who is African-American was called “negresse” by a driver urging her to get out of his way. She was very upset after the incident and while I somehow felt that it wasn’t the same as if that same person would’ve said it English, I understood her distress. Since I started learning about black history every February in elementary school, I understood the use of the “N” word in the context of slavery and oppression.

Almost every day when I’m out, I’ll hear men call me morena or negrita mostly in the form of cat calls. The other day while my husband and I were playing a game of one-on-one basketball, one of the kids watching would call out “Eso, la negra!” whenever I scored. None of this really bothers me – until I started thinking about people saying it to my kids. I’m old enough to know the differences in using this word. I think I could even tell if someone were using it offensively in Spanish. Luckily, I have yet to feel any sort of racism here in Caracas, but what worries me is that their international upbringing won’t teach them the appropriate and inappropriate use of the word.

Since my kids are not in an American school, they’re not learning the same black history that I did. So most likely, hearing the word will never make them cringe as it does me. Regardless of culture/language though, I think it’s safe to say that black people have had a rough go of it throughout history. Therefore, I either have to drill into them the negative connotation the word possesses in English, or let them grow up feeling that it’s acceptable to use anytime. Both options are not that appealing to me, but I’m inclined to go with the first.

What do you think?

I have always been a homebody. In high school, my strict (very Haitian) parents  would not let me go out as much as my friends did, so I fought against them just because…well, I was a teenager. When I got to college and was able to go out whenever I wanted, I tried it for a while and got tired of it. It made me tired for classes, plus I was also holding down a job. Regardless of the circumstances, I knew that home sounded a lot better to me than a night out on the town. For starters, my favorite pastime is reading – where better to read than your most comfortable couch?

Fast-forward many years and now I have babies. These babies LOVE to be out. If they even sense that you may be going out, they rush to put on their shoes and go wait by the door. It’s crazy. I’m convinced that they inherited this trait from my husband since he also loves being out and about.

Which leads to the issue of me at my happiest in my home and them not so much. I have to remind myself that they need to go out, sort of like a plant needs water I also realize that there is so much for them to see and we won’t be here forever. Now that it’s summer, it’s the best time for us to explore all that Caracas has to offer and I try to, but I know we could probably be out more. The worst is that even when my husband offers to take them out, my heart breaks a little. I wonder why they can’t be like me and instead of wanting to go to see that new park, choose to stay home and cuddle with mommy. It’s selfish, I know, but I’m still hopeful that it’s a phase they’ll outgrow…

Do your children have any preferences that are opposite of yours? How do you deal with it? Or, do you remember wanting the complete opposite of what your parents wanted? Please share your stories.