Letter to my children: Privilege and Poodle English

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Dearest Beloveds,

We are going to dive in right away with a quote from Vershawn Ashanti Young’s amazing article entitled Should Writer’s Use They Own English?:

Cultural critic Stanley Fish come talking bout - in his three-piece New York Times “What Should Colleges Teach?” suit - there only one way to speak and write to get ahead in the world, that writin teachers should “clear [they] mind of the orthodoxies that have taken hold in the composition world” (“Part 3”). He say don’t no student have a rite to they own language if that language them them “vulnerable to prejudice”;

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The Vault

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The Vault

The best advice I received (in addition to “take more pictures than you think is sane” and “get as much help as you can afford”) when we became new parents was about The Vault. The Vault is the place where all thoughts, words, and deeds that happen when you are insane with fatigue - that is where they live.

The door of The Vault is sealed with your faith. Faith in the choices you made when you were still a human capable of decision making and empathy towards yourself and your fellow man. All thoughts or discussions of a snarky, less than helpful nature go into The Vault. The “why didn’t you buy more diapers before the store closed and now we are all covered in poop you idiot,” or the “I don’t know if she is crying because I ate chocolate, we all ate the damn chocolate,” or the cranky 3 am snipe fest “fine, you show me how to swaddle this baby so she doesn’t stab herself in the eye with her talon nails,” all of that and more goes into The Vault. And it all stays there. Never to be thought or dragged up again the next morning/day/week. The strength of The Vault is trusting, nay knowing, that a part of you, the sane part, the part that once slept and didn’t cry at commercials, really wanted this baby/marriage/life circumstance.

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