October 19, 2010
Handbags. A Lesson in Ladies.
I can’t explain how all of this came together inside this head of mine, but I realized today that handbags are a lot like women.
I’m serious. Hear me out.
By the way, if you are a male, let this be a lesson in the opposite sex for you. (And a great shopping tip, as you are looking for a cute purse for your lady friend this December!) And if you are a female, don’t hate on me for what I’m going to say. You know it’s all true.
If a woman buys a cute little $15 purse from Target with no brand-name label, and if she carries it around with pride or with confidence, MOST women could care less where she bought her purse, how much she paid for it, or what brand it is. If the purse is cute or unique, it will catch the eye of other ladies who will think to themselves “that’s a cute purse”. The women who see this purse have no opinion – good or bad – of the purse owner, based solely on the cute cheap purse. (Now, if she’s rockin’ spandex pants and a tube top, that’s a different story!)
The same thing happens when a woman buys a designer purse. Only in this scenario, there is an obvious price tag on the purse that the first scenario didn’t have. Having the designer handbag implies that either status, material things, or good quality products with a warranty (or some combination of the three) are important to the owner. But generally, her reputation isn’t at risk nor her character called into question because she is carrying a designer purse on her shoulder. Women see this lady and think “that’s a cute expensive purse”.
But let’s talk about scenario #3 – the fake designer handbag.
I like a good deal as much as the next girl, don’t get me wrong. But here’s what happens when a lady carries a faux designer bag. At first she appears to be like purse owner #2… good taste in handbags, name brand is important for whatever reason, no judgment passed. And THEN, when it is discovered that the handbag is not authentic, “OH NO SHE DIDN’T! She did NOT try to pass-off a fake like she really paid $500 for that thing.” The claws come out and suddenly, it’s a full-blown case of passing judgment! Women feel deceived by the faux-designer-bag-weilding-female. Betrayed. Tricked.
“But how does this make handbags like women?” you ask…
In scenario #1 (the Target purse), it is what it is. Nothing too fancy, just a cute little purse which serves its purpose. It doesn’t pretend to be expensive or fabulous, and you don’t need a disposable income to enjoy it. These are your basic good friends. There for you when you need them. Dependable. Low-Maintenance. Loved. Appreciated.
The designer handbag is also a good reliable friend, but with this friend, she’s a bit more high maintenance. She likes expensive things and everyone knows it. Hanging out with this gal pal usually hits your pocketbook a little harder than your other friends… But still… she’s an honest, what you see is what you get friend.
But the fake designer purse is the woman who tries to be something she’s not. She wants everyone to think she’s genuine and high class, but really, she’s just an imposter. She may fool you for a while, but eventually others get a closer look… or her edges start to frazzle, and her cover is blown. And at that point, you’d really rather not be seen with her.
How’s THAT for a new way to look at your accessory collection?! 
I’m sure the next time you’re tempted to buy a cute designer-knockoff, you’ll remember this blog and haul your cookies to Target instead, now won’t you? Or maybe to the Coach store instead? Either way, I’ll see you there!
December 28, 2009
Raising Non-Racist Children in 21st Century America
Every decision I’ve made since my first child was conceived has been made with a Mom’s heart. “What’s best for my children?”… “How will this affect my kids as adults?”… “Will they respect their mom for doing this?”… etc. etc. etc.
One conscious decision that I made as a parent is to never refer to people by the color of their skin. Before you start hating me and emailing me about “respecting differences” and “teaching history”, please read on. There’s a perfectly good reason for why I do this.
I was raised in a small town in south Arkansas, so I’m very conscious of problems and tension between races. Maybe I’m more sensitive to it than many of my friends who were not raised in an area that had such a blend of black people and white people, I’m not sure. Maybe I’m sensitive to it because of the hell I’ve seen close friends go thru because they chose spouses or life partners who weren’t exactly the ‘norm’. Maybe it’s a combination of a lot of things. Whatever the reason, I’m sensitive to it.
I believe that racism is learned. Children aren’t born with negative opinions of others, based on their race or their gender or any other difference. They learn those things from parents, friends, family members, and neighbors. So, I decided to never label people with the hopes that my children would develop a genuine belief that we’re all equal. And once that belief is an ingrained fundemental part of who they are, and once they are old enough to understand, we’ll teach them about the differences, the history, etc. But we won’t be teaching racial tolerance at that point. By then, ‘tolerance’ won’t be necessary, since their way of life will be accepting and loving everyone, regardless of race.
Now, many of you who are close to me have heard this story, so I apologize for putting you thru it again. But this is a PERFECT example of how my method of raising my kids is working. Last fall, Autumn was in kindergarten at a public school in Panama City, Florida. The teacher, like most I imagine, was loosely following the Presidential election. (As an aside here, I don’t think KINDERGARTEN is the right place to be discussing politics on ANY level, but that is another topic.) At the dinner table on the night before the election, Autumn says, “If Bobama wins tomorrow, he will be the first black President ever”. Autumn had NEVER referred to anyone as ‘black’. She was born in Arkansas and has lived most of her life as a child in the Air Force, so she’s made plenty of friends and been around lots of people from all sorts of backgrounds and races… but she had never referred to anyone by the color of his or her skin. I was floored when she referred to Obama as ‘black’. I hardly even noticed that she called him “Bobama”. I asked her quickly, “He’ll be the first WHAT?” She looked at me with confusion and replied, “…the first blue President?” It was clear to me at that point that she had no clue what her teacher meant that day when she told the class that Obama was ‘black’. WHEW! (The teacher and I had an interesting talk the next day.)
The reason I’m writing on this topic TODAY is because of something I overheard the girls arguing about in the toyroom earlier. I heard Autumn (now 7) say, “your Barbie is going to marry the black boy”, and Heidi replied, “no, YOUR Barbie is going to marry the black boy! I don’t want to marry the black boy!” So I quickly raced into the room to see what in the world my kids must have learned at school, only to find them arguing over who would be married to Ken in the black tux and who would get Ken in the white shirt and jeans. I exhaled a big sigh of relief and hugged my kids. They are turning out to be great people, and I’m very proud of them. And I guess I’m sort of proud of myself, too.
As much as we carry on today about everyone being ‘equal’, prejudices do still exist in our society. You’d be foolish not to believe that. But happily, I can blog to you all today that it doesn’t exist in my children. And I would encourage other parents, if we are TRULY going to get to a place in our country where future generations see each other as ‘equal’ regardless of race, we GenX’ers and GenY’ers are going to have to take the matter into our own hands and raise that generation.
December 26, 2009
It’s a Wonderful Life
The tradition for Christmas in my family has always been the same:
-Gather at Grandmother’s house on Christmas Eve, eat, exchange gifts, take every opportunity to make fun of the cousins and laugh at each other’s expense until our sides hurt.
-Look to the sky for Rudolph’s nose on the drive home.
-Go to bed without a fuss.
-Wake up to Santa’s gifts Christmas morning.
For my husband, it was always the same each year for his family:
-Well, I wasn’t there; you’d have to ask him what the ritual looked like.
But times have changed.
Grandmother now lives in a retirement home… The cousins have all grown up and moved away… And we all have families of our own.
This year, we decided to spend our Christmas at home in Florida. As much as we love to see extended family and try to carry on old family traditions, I always struggle each year with the realization that my children do not really have any Christmas traditions of their own. So, for the SECOND Christmas EVER, my kids went to sleep in their own beds on Christmas Eve, woke to Santa’s gifts in their own living room on Christmas morning, and ate a traditional Christmas meal (minus the ham or turkey, I don’t ‘do’ land animals ~ but that’s an entirely separate blog) gathered ’round their own dining table. We read Christmas books, watched classic Christmas movies, and just enjoyed the holiday together. It was absolutely wonderful!
Next year, we’ll almost certainly be in a different home in a different state (God bless the USAF), but we’ll do our best to develop traditions that they will look back on fondly when they are adults… and perhaps they’ll face the same struggles when THEY have children.
November 18, 2009
The proud owner of…
…a NEW BLOG!
I’ve known what a blog is for quite a while. I’m not one of those people who’s COMPLETELY behind the technological times. I’ve always been interested in having my very own, but I always found an excuse to procrastinate.
So there I was this morning, staring at the empty “username” box.
How could one little box be so damned intimidating?!
Of course, I wanted something cute and catchy, but I also wanted something that would define me. So I began to think about who I am.
My strengths and weaknesses flashed acrossed the screen of my laptop… then came my experiences… followed by my dreams and aspirations… And in that moment ~ as I was trying to come up with something as simple as a username ~ it hit me! I’m always changing. I’m not the same person at 32 that I was at 15 or 21 or 25 or even 31! And I won’t be THIS person when I’m 40 or 59 or even 33! I’m always changing, with each new experience and each new day.
But one thing has been consistent throughout my life… and will remain consistent, I’m sure…
I’m Keyna… NOT KENYA.
The Keyna/Kenya Phenomenon… Explained.
I read one time that no matter how you jumble the letters of a word, as long as you keep the first and last the same, most people can still read it with ease. Let’s test the theory…
I was bron and riaesd in suthoren Akranass.
Did you read “I was born and raised in southern Arkansas”? …Of course you did!
Clearly, my mom was not considering this phenomenon when she chose my name. I’m SURE if she had known that people would call me an African country my entire life, she would have found some other clever way to incorporate my godfather’s name into mine. See, my godfather’s name is Jesse Owen Key, and my mom thought naming me “Keyna” would be a great way to honor my “Uncle Owen”. And now that I’m older and wiser, I have to agree. My name MEANS something to me… it wasn’t just chosen from a baby name book… and it wasn’t chosen just because my mom really liked a particular singer or actress. I have an actual emotional attachment to my name… and even though I sometimes get annoyed when I’m called “Kenya”, it always makes me think of my godfather, and for THAT, I’m thankful. (God rest the soul of my dear Uncle Owen.)
