First Post on LIFEclectic Magazine

I took a haitus from Orbiting Io to get my bearings and adjust to all the changes that come with being a single parent, but I'm back! I am now blogging for LIFEclectic, online magazine for parents by parents. I'm excited to share with you my first post, "Embarking Upon Single Motherhood With No Training Wheels."  Enjoy!

Redwoods

Ansel Adams, Redwoods, Bull Creek Flat, Northern California, 1959

     A redwood seedling has the potential to grow into a majestic tree. When we were young, my Dad would drive us North to the redwood forests and I remember how endlessly tall and beautiful these trees were. Being the only women amongst a group of men who have crossed volatility and have entered into violence is like watching redwood trees becoming un-rooted. They crash into each other, succumbing to the forces of gravity that work against them every day to become full grown. I am small and insignificant. My efforts to save the grove are ineffectual and unseen. I surrender because I am outside the realm of men. I know what it’s like to walk amongst those trees—to breathe life and experience peace and beauty. Men have the potential to be majestic like this.

Photos from Abstract Vision: Female Perspective by Chicharon Adventures

Come see the first installation of INVISIBLE MOTHER

See the first installation of my new photography series: 

Invisible Mother:

Exploring domestic obligation and the value of mothers.

To read more about Invisible Mother click here.

ABSTRACT VISION
Female Perspective
Opening Reception Feb. 11, 2011
7pm-12am
Soundscapes: DJ Shiva
URBAN SANCTUARY
2026 E. 1st St.
Boyle Heights
90033

Invisible Mother

 

Since becoming a mother, most of my work entails caring for my child, cooking, and keeping house. Finding little time to make money or art, I constantly pondered my worth as a person and productive member of society.  Pre-baby, my work was tangible and quantifiable. I made pictures you could touch and money to put in my pocket. Post-baby, my work was largely unseen. If you visited my home, for example, you would have had to see the hours of labor it took me to get it to that state to fully appreciate it. If you enjoyed the company of my child, you would have had to witness the months I poured into her to know why she thrives as she does. The only time I felt that my work was noticed was when I failed (or appeared to fail) to do it—like when the house was a wreck, or there was no dinner, or my child was losing it at the grocery store. In this way, a good job assumed a quality of invisibility; the better it was done, the less you noticed it.

My introduction to invisibility brought much anger and resentment. Although I observed a superficial sentiment that mothers were valuable and important, I found very little proof that it was actually true. While a stranger might be kind enough to hold the door open so that I might fumble through with my stroller and baby bag, at the end of the day, I still felt short-changed. For doing what people call “the most important job in the world”, I still had no income of my own, no means to make it, and no time for myself. It seemed I only existed to care for my child and clean the house.

       

I know that I am not the only mother who feels this way. I do not think it is a generalization to say that women carry most of the burden of childcare. And I definitely do not think it obscene to say that women do most of the housework.  Without having to pick up a book researching woman’s work or having to spew some kind of statistic about our labors, I can tell you that it takes up a significant amount of our time.  As a result, we are most often the half of the partnership that gives up economic independence, passion, dreams, and art.  The fact that we are the half of society that makes this compromise is exemplary of how much we really do value women.

Feeling little worth for my great contribution to the world, my work in the house has been done mostly in contempt. The longer I cleaned, the more enraged I would become. I would daydream about what I never became and all the things I could become if I did not have to wash dishes. Slowly, I began to document my work around the house, grappling to find beauty in my seemingly mundane routines. I realized that my feelings around housework needed an alchemical process. My rage needed to be transformed into something else. If no one else will value my work, at least I could. To initiate this alchemy, I began photographing my messy kitchen and bedroom, piles of laundry, chopped vegetables, and cluttered tables. By doing this, I bring into view what is largely invisible.  In addition to creating visibility, to capture a moment in time is also to assign it worth. In this sense, photographing my work at home has become a process of self-validation and an opportunity to assign value to my own labor. I do it to honor myself and the women of the world who deserve illumination.

See the first installation of INVISIBLE MOTHER at:

Abstract Vision
Female Perspective
Opening Reception Feb. 11, 2011
7pm-12am
Soundscapes: DJ Shiva
URBAN SANCTUARY
2026 E. 1st St.
Boyle Heights
90033

new year morning 2011

Happy Birthday Self

When I look at this photo, I can see that my eyes look really tired. I remember this night vividly. Io was only 10 days old and I decided to present her to the world at an art show benefit for a friend who was ill. As my girlfriend and I pulled up to the venue, I could see folks hanging around outside. Some were smoking and others were wearing short dresses and high heels--not exactly a baby-friendly environment. While I really wanted to turn around and go home, I still found myself walking toward the bright lights. People at the door gladly helped me get Io into the space, which lacked an entrance that could accommodate her brand new stroller. After warm greetings and new baby oohs and aahs dissipated, I noticed that the music was pounding and probably too loud for newborn ears. I strolled her into a quiet corner, sipped my wine, looked around and thought, “What I am doing here?”

Photo by: Malakhi Simmons

Looking at this photo I see a mother who doesn’t yet realize how drastically her life is going to change. I thought I was going to be that superhuman mama that travelled the world and worked on exciting, new projects while carrying her baby in a sling. That’s not quite what happened. Since Io’s birth, I’ve held myself to this impossible standard and have lived mostly in disappoint for my lack of Wonder Woman-like powers and limited ability to accomplish multiple tasks with only two regular arms. Today, on my birthday, I give all that mamahood baggage a proper burial. I dig a deep hole and gently lower into it all the expectations I had that never became so. I stand over them, say a prayer, and send them on their way. I put them to rest so that new flowers may grow. I accept the mothering experience that is mine and whole. In its imperfection, it is perfect.

My first instinct to abandon the art show was the right one. In more ways than not, that was no longer my world. I didn’t realize that then. The girl in this picture is still holding on to life up top. She has not yet been initiated into the underground forest, where only women who have gone through a great death are allowed to enter. I have struggled for 4 years now, not wanting to succumb to the death of my life above ground. So today I bury my old self and embrace metamorphosis.

RIP Papa, Larry Ylagan

Me and my Papa

Io Does the Science Center

Sid the Science Kid was at the Science Center this weekend. I was crazy to think that it would be a fun, manageable event. There were HUNDREDS of parent there. Many were stressed out and so were their kids! I feed off this kind of energy so I had to remember to BREATH. It was mayhem in there. Science Kid staff had to do some serious control crowd, asking that everyone they back away from the life-sized Sid. I had no idea he was even that popular. Io and patience do not go well together. There was no way we were going to be able to stand in line long enough to take a picture with Sid. Io was close to eruption as I began to explain her that there were too many people there and we wouldn't be able to see Sid. Io being unmoving and, I, a stealth photographer, gave Io my camera. We got close to the front of the line and I let her loose. In a flash she ran up to the Science Kid and took a picture then ran back to me. What kind of parent am I?! She got her picture and that was enough for her. Crisis averted....this time.

The ice wall.

Broadcasting live from the Science Center.

Inside the climbing tree

Io's Sid picture.

The crowd!

Tess, the giant test dummy. Io's favorite.

Tiny Wrist, Tiny Watch

 "Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life. "

~William Faulkner

Ah, the sadness of a clock. Its constant ticking turns present into past and hurries you into the future. Time to wake up. Time to eat. Time to plan. Time to work. Time to sleep. What a responsibility it is to recognize time! Even as an adult I struggle with my obligations to time and imagine that children must struggle too. This month Io started her 2nd year of pre-K and at four-years-old she too must give recognition to the clock.

Similar to our adult life where we must keep a schedule, in Io's class of four-year-olds there is time to eat, time to line up, time to wash hands, time to play, but mostly time to sit. If you know a 4-year-old, then you know this is a tall order. Now imagine 18 four-year-olds! In my fantasies, there are schools that are compassionate and empathetic. They realize the struggles that each child faces as they are being asked to take on huge responsibilities such as minding the time. They offer children support around the rules and limits they must follow to be successful and safe. They employ strategies that go beyond authoritarianism. Maybe these schools exist, but I'm sure I can't afford them. So Io goes  to a Headstart program where structure is king and flexibility is failure.

A typical school day involves rushing the children through each activity they must complete to meet the school's cirriculum guidelines. The need to control and restrict appears to have more weight than what is actually being taught. Most of the teachers' energies are focused on getting the children to line up and then sit down and then sit down and line up. I realize that this is the way most schools work. And I know most people will agree that the teachers are doing the right thing by preparing them for kindergarten, first grade, and essentially the "real world." I don't write here hoping to change anyone's mind about their parenting approach, but I can say that being supportive as opposed to punitive just feels right. I realize that there is very little I can do to change the school system, but I can support my daughter  by helping her deal with the harsh reality that we can't do what we want whenever we want to. Don't I have a hard time coping with going to work everyday? Don't I have a hard time having to pay the bills? Don't I have a hard time keeping it all together sometimes? 

Io showing off her watch

How do you explain to a 4 year old that it's a tough world out there and when you're big you're going to need to pay rent and get a job? I could stand over my kid and say, "You have to do what your teacher says!" I could punish her by not letting her watch Spongebob until she can follow directions at school. But when I think about the difficulties I face in keeping the schedule I must to survive, I think about how hard it must be for her, a 4-year-old whose brain is still developing, to accept the incredibly heavy responsibility of life. All I can do is empathize with her and tell her that I know it must be so hard and give her some tools to help her along the way.

So to support her in understanding her schedule at school her Dad and I took her to buy her first watch. She picked out a pink Timex equipped with Indiglo, her favorite feature. The salesman said Io was his youngest customer. I was surprised that they even made watches that small. Io was extremely proud, showing her watch off to strangers in the mall. I stood back and looked at her tiny wrist. Although the watch was small, it looked huge and heavy to me. I was saddened to see her wear the weight of time. Such an enormous responsibility for such a little person.

Last week she wore the watch to school and her teachers were very pleased to find that it worked! They were able to explain to her the activities she needed to do and what time she needed to do them. Not only did she understand better what she needed to, but she then even tried to help her friends understand that it was time to clean up and sit. I'm ecstatic that I was able to come up with a solution that didn't involve coerician, punishment, or fear.  I am, however, sad to see her shedding the innocence of her childhood and really feeling her struggle to get by in the world.

breathe

inhale. exhale.

hello all. i have resurfaced here again to take in some air and let you know that i'm alive and well. for those of you that are close to me, you know the depths of my travels. for those just visiting, i can only reveal that i'm on a journey to change my life story. although it's impossible to change what  is already written, i do have the power to start a new chapter.

here i am with open eyes. severed hands begin to grow back.

i know nothing.

4th of July

Miss Io Jade

I can say with great certainty that what she does not lack is personality.

"My Father's Love Letters" by Yusef Komunyakaa

My dad and Io.

My dad and me. 1981.

While searching for the perfect song, picture, or greeting card appropriate for father's day I happened upon this beautiful poem by Yusef Komunyakaa. Violence in all its forms continues to seep into our families. It is up to us to break the cycle and heal together. This poem speaks to my feelings for my father who has faulted and is flawed, but for whom I still have great compassion for.

"My Father's Love Letters" by Yusef Komunyakaa

On Fridays he'd open a can of Jax

After coming home from the mill,

and ask me to write a letter to my mother

Who sent postcards of desert flowers

Taller than men. He would beg,

Promising to never beat her

Again. Somehow I was happy

She had gone, and sometimes wanted

To slip in a reminder, how Mary Lou

Williams' "Polka Dots and Moonbeams"

Never made the swelling go down.

His carpenter's apron always bulged

With old nails, a claw hammer

Looped at his side and extension cords

Coiled around his feet.

Words rolled from under the pressure

Of my ballpoint: Love,

Baby, Honey, Please.

We sat in the quiet brutality

Of voltage meters and pipe threaders,

Lost between sentences . . .

The gleam of a five-pound wedge

On the concrete floor

Pulled a sunset

Through the doorway of his toolshed.

I wondered if she laughed

and held them over a gas burner.

My father could only sign

His name, but he'd look at blueprints

and say how many bricks

Formed each wall. This man,

Who stole roses and hyacinth

For his yard, would stand there

With eyes closed and fists balled,

Laboring over a simple word, almost

Redeemed by what he tried to say.

Listen to Yusef Komunyakaa recite his poem at my tumblr, The River Underground.

Io's Alphabet Sounds

Meditating on Prosperity!

The one year anniversary of Orbiting Io also coincides with the beginning of summer and that means I have my baby girl with me 24 hours a day. Which also means I have even less time to devote to this blog, but I'm not going to let that stop me! During these summer months, I have to keep Orbiting Io short and sweet. I will be sharing with you the little things that inspire me and keep me moving towards progress. 

For starters, I am currently part of an amazing meditation circle called Rhythm and Breath. Led by Luz Cañas, who is was certified in  Los Angeles at Golden Bridge by the Kundalini Research Institute (KRI) in Kundalini Yoga and Meditation, as taught by Yogi Bhajan, Rhythm and Breath offers a cyber-meditation experience. Luz leads the group via the internet and guides her participants through 40 day meditation cycles. We are currently doing a prosperity meditation. This is my second meditation cycle and it has helped me tremendously to act on my vision, listen to my intuition, and rise up to my higher self.

Please check out Luz Cañes and her Rhythm and Breath blog. If you decide to join in her meditation, please contact her directly. Doing the meditation is an intense process which requires guidance and  it should not be done on your own. Link to the blog here.

Luz demonstates the prosperity pose.

In accordance with the meditation, I'm focusing much of my creative energy on building a website for our family business, which is our construction contracting company, and also developing a  word-of -mouth marketing campaign. Prosperity comes in many forms, but MONEY is needed to sustain this operation and put food on the table! This our is our blog for the construction company, JOCC.(Click link.) By summer's end,  I hope to have a full website together. If you or someone you know needs some work done in Los Angeles, please do contact us!

Banner image for our construction company blog.

Also, for your daily fix, you can find me at my tumblr,  the river underground.

My tumblr site, the river underground.

Orbiting Io is 1 year old!!!!!

I began this blog at a time when I was starving to create. The first two years of motherhood were joyous, intense, exhausting, melancholic, and beautiful. To my surprise, motherhood found me isolated from the rest of world- alone in the house with a baby while the world seemingly moved on and moved forward. Those first two years I longed to create, to share, and to interact with the rest of world. That's when I got the idea to start Orbiting Io. 

Thanks to everyone for reading and continuing to look for my blog everyday. Thanks to my closest friends who put up with my rants, bouts of hyperactivity, and my tendency to get increasingly louder as I get more excited. Thanks to the handful of you who have followed my blog since the very beginning. When I feel myself stray from the true intention of this blog, I think of you.

Orbiting Io is my tiny contribution to the world. A place to bare my soul. I talked before about how we, as mothers, need to develop concrete methodologies to hold ourselves accountable to our creative progress. This blog is my method and my catalyst, not the final product, but the drawing board for all my creative endeavors.

My inspiration....

eye-o: the world according to io.

All photos and direction by io jade

Congratulations Io on your first year of school!

West Blvd. Mid-City. Class 02. Teacher Maria and Teacher Vivian

(I should get an award for getting these kids to sit down for this pic!)

Aiyana Jones and the City of Detroit

Little Aiyana Jones was laid to rest yesterday and I am still trying to make sense of all this. I was talking with a close friend the other day and she asked me, “These killings happen all the time in America, why do you think this particular case is so important?” First as a mother of a precious little girl, Aiyana’s case hits really close to home. This could have been my daughter. This could have been anyone’s daughter. But besides my own personal feeling, Aiyana Jones is more than just a girl who was killed brutally by police, she represents what is fundamentally wrong with this country economically and racially.

At one time, Detroit was America’s crown jewel. Detroit had the first paved streets and the first freeway system. They had an extensive railcar system that served the population well.

A busy city. Woodward Ave, Detroit, early 1900s.

Amidst racism, the auto industry provided jobs for black folks. People were able to get around, buy the things they needed, and maintain a livelihood. By 1954, Detroit was producing 80 percent of American automobiles. Detroit became so invested in the automobile, that they abandoned the public transportation system in 1956 and focused solely on the development of freeways as a means of transportation.

 The Davidson Freeway. The building of the city's oldest 

freeway was pivotal in keeping Detroit segregated.

 Meanwhile, the strength of the black workers in the United Auto Workers union (UAW), gave motivation to factory owners to move their operations out of Detroit. Well-developed freeways facilitated this shift and those who had the means to follow did. Those that did not were stranded with no way to get around and with no work. It is no accident that those left behind were the black community. With dwindling resources, communities began to atrophy. On July 23, 1967 massive riots broke out. Lasting 5 days, frustrated, unemployed poor and black folks revolted and destroyed what little there was left of their city, giving white people all the more reason to leave. Today Detroit remains one of the most segregated cities in the country. We all know where the story goes from here.

Detroit under siege during the riots in 1967.

So here we are today. A little 7-year-old girl is dead, an innocent victim of unfortunate circumstances. It is important that we pay attention to Detroit and to Aiyana Jones. Detroit reminds us of the greatness we can achieve as a country. There was a time when Detroit was the benchmark for infrastructural development around the world. Today the city is plagued by blight and abandonment. Aiyana's death represents our most fundamental failings as a country. Her death reveals what happens when a government fails to provide jobs, fails to provide public transportation, fails to provide adequate schooling, fails to integrate, and most importantly, what happens when a government fails to respect life. If we are to learn anything from the death of Aiyana Jones, it is that our government needs to start investing in its people. We need infrastructure. We need jobs. We need local industry. We need healthcare. We need to live with dignity. And we, as a people, need to demand it.

Read my piece Aiyana Jones: Killed in Warfare
Read There is No Justice for Aiyana by Adrienne Maree
Read Birmingham, 1963 to Detroit, 2010- The tragedy of bombed and brutalized black girls by Jo Nubian