Tuesday, August 5, 2008
I'm new to blogging, well relatively new. I did have a blog a few years back called The Joyce Journal, which was mostly a way to disseminate information. This go 'round I'm writing about more personal stuff. It's hard, but good for me. And I know other black mothers who are doing the same. And no we don't write all the time about being a mom or even about being black. But I think we have a unique perspective because we are black and we are mothers.
In a recent Star Ledger article, Black Moms Who Blog, Michel Martin muses on why there aren't more parenting bloggers of color or black blogging networks for moms or dads. She says that black women already feel they're in a limiting group just by being labeled African American women and that black moms don't have enough leisure time to blog (I'm guessing maybe because many of us are single and doing it all). She also says that many of the black women who do have a lifestyle that allows them to blog are upper middle class and childless.
I guess I can see all of her points. And I prefer to look at them as opportunities. No I don't always have the time to blog, but for some unknown reason, it's become one of the main reasons I can't wait until 11 o'clock at night. I know that I'll be able to get out my feelings about something. And I know that even if no one else reads it, I got it out and by doing so, I am strengthening my voice as a writer. I gotta work on my craft.
I've also been reading lots of other blogs these days, some penned by black mothers. One I visit a lot is Wifey's House. Nothing profound from me tonight. Just happy that I got another chance to write in my online journal. In fact, my mother gave me my first diary when I was in elementary school. You writers know the kind I'm talking about - it was small, a funky shade of green, and had five days on a page, as well as a gold lock on it that had a key.
That diary turns up every few years when I'm digging in the archives (my wreck of a garage) for something. Sometimes I'm brave enough to I peek inside. Its weird to read your thoughts as a child - juvenile angst is real. The next time that diary appears and I have the courage to peruse a page or two, I'll know that I'm reading the beginnings of black mom who's now blogging. Not writing an objective article for her career, but putting herself out there in a revealing way. And I think that's just cool. jd