When a Mask is the Reality

Wearing a mask is really inconvenient, hot, I don’t like it, and I have a medical exemption from wearing a mask in public. However, here are the top 10 reasons I choose wear a mask.

1. Because I choose to do my best do be a decent human and to try and do the right thing. My conscience and momma’s teachings to be nice don’t steer me wrong very often. 
2. Because I am diabetic and battling an ongoing respiratory condition and hope that by helping to protect others, they will help protect me.
3. Because I am an educator and want to keep my colleagues and students safe. I want to be a good example to children on being kind; we can do this together. 
4. Because I do not trust Dr. Google, Dr. Essential Oils, Dr. Meme, Dr. Barely a High School Graduate, Dr. Positive Energy, or Dr. Facebook Reposter to give direction on how to combat a microscopic, novel, very contagious virus. I believe in science and the medical research of those who have spent years studying viruses and how those viruses affect people. Those experts almost unanimously agree that wearing a mask is one of the best ways to slow the spread of the virus. 
5. Because I want life to go back to “normal.” The only way that is going to happen is to contain this virus. The only thing I can personally do to contain the virus is to follow the guidance of the reputable experts in this field to wear a mask, socially distance, and amp up hygiene efforts. 
6. Because I made a commitment a long time ago to serve my fellow men, be a good neighbor, and to do unto others as you’d like them to do unto you. 
7. Because I don’t believe that being a decent human is a political issue or a reason to take sides on an issue that just has one side, humanity. Nor do I believe that being a decent human should be based on a mandate from government or religious leaders. 
8. Because I am happy to be called a sheep. Sheep follow someone who knows better than they do and someone who wants to keep the whole flock safe. Even though being sheared might be a little uncomfortable when it’s happening, sheep are happy to be free of their fleece and provide a service that helps a population of people to be warm and comfortable for a long time afterward. 
9. Because even if science and research prove that masks don’t protect others or myself from spreading the virus, I am only out a minor inconvenience for a few months. However, if scientists and experts are correct in determining wearing a mask helps to stop the spread of the virus, I might have actually saved lives. That’s cool.
10. And Finally, because wearing mask is way easier than writing an obituary for your brother. Trust me, I did it this week for my 48-year old brother who died of the Covid-19 virus. His death was not a hoax, it was not a political stunt, and he was much more than an a statistic. Although he was the .1% of those who die from this terrible virus, he was 100% a father, husband, son, brother, and friend. His life is 100% worth me trying to do the right thing and be a decent human and wear a mask when I’m in public places. 

The Reality of My Family

I want to have a little record of my siblings and family. After the deaths of 2 of my brothers, Marc and Adam, I have realized that even my kids don't know a whole lot about my siblings and how I grew up. Many people have asked, "Now, which brother is that? or "was he adopted?" So this post is just an introduction to some of the coolest people in the world. I am going to write a book someday and my brothers and sisters are going to be the stars of at least a chapter or two, because they are pretty awesome. But for now, welcome to my totally awesome, totally crazy, totally inspiring, totally non-traditional family. This is just my story, my memories, and may or may not be factual.

There are officially 11 kids in our family; I'll get the "official" part later. My parents, Gerald Eccles Stout and Jerralyn Rigby, had three biological sons and adopted eight children. My parents were married on April 24, 1964 and were later divorced. Also, I am going to write about each of my siblings in birth order, rather than the order we joined our family.

Jason Gerald Stout. Jason is the oldest child born to my parents on August 7, 1965 in Bountiful, Utah. Jason is married to Kathleen Jenkins. Jason and Kathy have three children: Broc (Tabi), Erin, and Lizzie. He is the grandpa to Broc and Tali's two children, Waylon and Weston. Jason is a gifted woodworker, can rhyme about anything, and the leader of the many Denver Bronco fans in our family. Jason is 10 years older than me, so my memories of him are mostly his big teenage hair, dating Kathy, visiting his early home in West Bountiful, his distaste for anything with onions, and time spent in Peterson at mom's with his kids. Whenever I see Jas, he say, "Well hi, Mindy" in the nicest most welcoming voice. I don't know why, but his voice reminds me of home.

David Alden Stout. Dave is the second son born to my parents on February 10, 1967. Dave was married to Holly Baker (divorced) and they had three kids: Tyson, Travis, and Megan. Later he was married to Roni Cartner (divorced); they have 2 children together, Olyvia and Ella. Dave's partner is LeeAnne King. Dave is known for his willingness to always do something fun, his golf skills, his big teenage nerd glasses, and his sparkly blue eyes. My best memories of Dave is that he always let us little kids tag along on his dates, visits to his house, and rides in the car. Dave is a momma's boy. I secretly think mom likes him the best (watch out Danny)! Dave will forever be known as the kid who terrorized the teachers at the high school and graduated in a choir robe because mom begged, did homework, and probably bribed the administration to let him graduate. Funny thing, Dave is probably the smartest of us all.

Angela Stout. Angie is the oldest sister and the first adopted child in our family. She was born April 3, 1971 in Murray, Utah. Her race is Native American - Navajo and Apache. Angie is married to Mark Hatch and they have three children: Joshua, Hayden, and Kortnee. Angie is a trained cosmetologist, and although hasn't worked in the field in a long time, has given a lot of free haircuts to our family. Angie is mild mannered, laughs at anything, enjoys a good solo night at the movies, and loves her dogs. Growing up, I think pretty much idolized Ang. She was on the drill team, so pretty, and had the best clothes. I remember dragging the "vard" (Washington Blvd in Ogden) with her and her friends and she made me duck because I was too young to pick up the boys. I didn't care, it was maybe the most rebellious thing I'd ever done and I was hanging out with the big girls. When she laughs, it is something to behold; she literally laughs until she cries. Now, I idolize her because she can calm a room, is a great mom, works so hard, and loves her family more than anything.

Marc Eccles Stout. Marc was born on May 28, 1972 in El Paso, Texas and adopted in the spring of 1977 when he was 5-years old. Marc was the first adopted son to our family and was Mexican American. Marc was married to Christine Brooks and they had two children, Taylor and Jordan. Christie brought her daughter, Jaime into their marriage, and Jaime has a baby named Hudson. Growing up, I remember Marc always reading, exploring, and loved watching tv and movies. Marc always liked being a part of the party and hanging out with friends and family. One of my most favorite memories of Marc, is sharing our birthday lunches. Because our birthdays are in May, just 3 days apart, and right by memorial day weekend, we always had our birthday lunches with mom together. Marc passed away of the Covid-19 virus on July 7, 2020. We will miss him.

Evonne Stout. Evonne was born on August 19, 1972 and adopted from Portland, Oregon when she was 9-years old. Evonne came to our family the summer before fourth grade and, from what I understand, she was perhaps first black student that ever attended to Morgan School District. Evonne has two children, Marshay and Latrey. Evonne is a gifted writer, has the best memory for fun facts, is so friendly, and a funny story teller. She had tons of friends and could make anyone laugh. Growing up, Evonne loved fashionable clothes, sparkly jewelry, and bright lipstick. I remember Evonne and I telling stories late into the night and walking to Hinds for treats, like the 1cent Bingo candies and Chick-O-Sticks. I remember that she only chewed a half a stick of gum, saving the other half for later. Unfortunately, I have lost touch with Evonne in our adult years. I hope to reconnect with her someday. Our relationship is one that I miss and a void I'd like to fill in this life.

Adam Woodruff Stout. Adam was born to my parents on November 7, 1972. My mom refers to Adam's birth as nothing short of miraculous. Mom had several late miscarriages when she got pregnant with Adam a new procedure had come out. The doctors "sewed" Adam into the womb and he made it to term and a live birth. Adam married Veronica Smith (divorced) and they had six children together: Emily (Kade Dalton), Molly, Max, Holden, Bailey, and Harley. He was the grandfather to Asher and Tanner, Emily's kids. Adam liked to ride motorcycles, golf, and go on cruises. He liked a soda with ice and all kinds of cheese, the funkier the better. It was very uncommon for us to have snacks and chips growing up, it was a special treat. One time we had a bag of chips to have with our bologna sandwiches and we were all fighting over who got the chips. Adam, being the funny guy, grabbed the chips and smashed the whole bag into tiny crumbs. We were all so mad, especially Evonne, it was not funny then, but looking back... it's hilarious. Adam passed away on August 14, 2017 from a heart attack. We miss him.

Malynda Lee Stout. Then there is me, Mindy. I was born in Seoul, Korea on May 25, 1975 and adopted when I was 11-months old. I just got my DNA results back and I'm definitely Korean and that's it. I am married to Todd Tolbert and we have three kids: Kelsie, Clark, and Zack. I will probably be most remembered as a child for my famous fits and my temper. I mean, I can throw a fit! As an adult, I'll probably be remembered as the bossy one. I get it done though.

Katherine Marie Stout. Kathy was born November 1, 1977 from Torreon, Mexico. She was married to Aaron Page and they had a son Austin together. Aaron brought his two daughters, Kate and Laura to their marriage. Unfortunately, Aaron passed away on March 20, 2020 from a heart attack. Growing up, my mom called Kathy her "sanity." Kathy was easygoing, satisfied with anything, and quiet peacemaker. She has the funniest little giggle and, even as an adult, is just easy to please. Kathy likes to have something to look forward to, whether it's a service event for her "Page that Gives" orgnization, a family party, a trip, or even a dinner plan. She loves to go to Peterson to see mom and and never misses a family party. Kathy likes to go to movies, explore her city, and go on short adventures. I don't think Kathy likes change. She has had the same job for many years, drives a car until it literally dies, still goes by the same childhood nickname, and never orders anything besides a turkey sandwich from Subway. She has friends in all arenas of life and treasures relationships.

Daniel Thomas Stout. Danny was born on October 9, 1978; a Mexican American from Loredo, Texas. Danny married Shannon Wardell and they have four children: Chez, Kenadee, Abbee, and Cruz. Danny is a quiet, strong, hardworking guy. Growing up Danny was our little athlete. He played soccer and football. Mom still refers to Dan as "such a good boy." I definitely think he is mom's favorite (he knows it and so does everyone else). Mom used to buy him a cheeseburger for every touch down. After the games, we'd go to lunch and we'd all get a kids' meal and Dan would get a triple patty bacon burger, large fries, and an ice cream.  Danny doesn't say too much and is pretty patient. However, don't get him too mad because it's reported that when he blows, he blows! Danny is accepting of everyone, he's easy to get along with, and everyone likes him. One little quirky thing about Dan growing up (not sure if it's the same now), but Danny loves the feel of soft clothing and soft fabric. He would go the store and pick out a shirt based on how it felt before how it looked.

Kristen Eleen Stout. Kristen was born in North Carolina on June 30, 1980. Kristen is multi-racial, mostly Black and Caucasian. One cool thing is that she grew up not knowing the ethnicity of her birth father. Just a couple of years ago she did an Ancestry DNA test and the results not only identified the race of her birth father, but led her to contact her birth sister. It has really helped her find her identity and is a very cool story (maybe the whole story will come out in my book someday). Kristen is married to Aric Spainhower and they have one son, Strider. Kristen was such a cute baby, she had curly hair and a little pop belly. She liked to run around without a shirt so she could be like Danny, and her little belly would hang out over her diaper. That is how she ended up with the name Buddha Belly, and she still answers to it today. Kristen is hard worker and can keep up with anyone. She is the most determined and fierce out of all of us. If I'm ever alone in a dark alley, I'd call Kristen first. On the other hand, she is the most maternal of all the girls. She's a great mommy, baby sitter, and best baby holder around.

Ana Louise Stout. Ana, the baby, was born on November 8, 1982 in Arizona. She is multi-racial, mostly Black and Caucasian. Ana has one son, Gabe. Ana embraces her role as the baby of the family. She calls mom every day; she still can do the whiny voice to get what she wants; and still likes to twirl to show off a new dress. Ana grew up in mom's pocket, she went everywhere with her. Being mom's little shadow means she also grew a very special relationship with our mom's parents, Grandma and Grandpa Rigby. Ana likes all the girly things: shopping, jewelry, make-up, and sparkly clothes. I think she would wear a tiara to work if she could (maybe she does). I remember her singing in Sunshine Generation, high school choir, and at family events. Poor Ana always had terrible allergies. She would have red swollen eyes all summer long and when she sneezed it was everywhere, and by everywhere I mean an explosion of snot. Don't worry, she learned to sneeze and now probably has the best etiquette of all. Ana is very compassionate and get emotionally invested with others easily. She has a big heart, big spirit, and big dreams.

Finally, when I said I'd get back to having "officially" 11 kids, what I really mean is that there are 11 of us that can be traced in family history or official state records. But our family is also made up of others who are in our hearts and minds official brothers and sisters. First, our Navajo sister Pearl Spencer. Pearl lived with us in high school as a part of the Native American host program our church sponsored in the 1970s. I don't remember Pearl with a great amount of detail as a young child, but she will always be the oldest sister. She lives in the Salt Lake Valley with her family now and comes to mom's for family gatherings. We love to see her. Next, is Jonathon Fuller. Jon is our Costa Rican foster brother who lived with us all through his high school years. Jon liked to listen to loud music and lift weights to stay fit. Jon graduated from high school in Morgan and then joined the US Navy. He was killed in Costa Rica on May 5, 1989 at 27 years old on a trip to reunite with his birth sister. We also had other foster siblings, Tammie and her brother, Chris, and other children who stayed for shorter times while their families worked on things.

Together, the 11 of us and our families make up a mighty family. We are now grown, have our own families, our own belief systems, our own trials and celebrations, and our own lives. We are so different; yet, we are bonded for eternity through love and experience. If it's us against anyone in almost any situation, my bet is on us. I love these people and am so proud to be a Stout kid.

A Metaphorical Marathon

Over the last several days, I have watched, listened, read, studied, reflected, and prayed to be more educated and to have a better understanding of the black movement for equal opportunity in America. I have listened to and read several opinions from many different perspectives. I have listened to the left liberal and right conservative political leaders. I have listened to activists and leaders of change organizations. I have listened to black people’s testimony of racism, I have listened to white people’s pledges to do better. I have listened to sad and worried mommas with children of color and white children. I have listened to friends, family, news channels, social media, and religious leaders of many faiths. While listening, I've gone through moments of outrage, worry, sorrow, unrest, and even hope. Mostly, I am learning that the vast majority of people want the same thing - equality and peace for all people, and at this time specifically black people. 

I’ve likened a marathon to the current crisis our nation is facing. Every marathon is a long, hard, and physically and mentally challenging 26.2 mile race. Even the most well trained runners will agree that marathons are a challenge that pushes the racer to their limits. People run marathons for a variety of different reasons: some to win the race for a prize or money, some it’s a career, some for personal satisfaction, some for a challenge, some for charity, some as the result of a dare, some for peer pressure, some as a tribute to a loved one, and some just to do better than they did the yesterday. When approaching the subject of marathoning, everyone has a different perspective that perhaps can be lumped into a category. Here are some of the perspectives of marathoning categorized into groups. 

The True Marathoner. This group says, “We’ve trained our whole lives for this.” These are they who have who run every day to train for the big race. They have qualified for the big race by participating in other marathons. They have learned what to do better by the mistakes that were made earlier in other marathons. They have seen the reactions their body has from marathons and are prepared for the consequences of future races. They put the right things into their body that will give them optimal performance. They read about marathons. This groups joins together in platforms like social media and support groups to support each other. The marathoners have friends that they often run with for support, to bounce training ideas, and make plans to improve. They are the passion of the marathoning community and the reason why marathoning continues.

The Die Hard Marathoner. This group of people do much of what the marathoners do. They train; they read; they put things in their body and mind to fuel them; they are passionate about marathoning. What sets this group apart from the True Marathoners, is they’ve actually never ran a marathon. They are ready for the marathon and want to race, but may live too far away from the race, they may be too afraid to join a race, or the race has a pre-requisite that you have to qualify for the marathon by completing another marathon. 

The I’ll do it for the Prize Marathoner. This group, which I believe is the majority of marathoners, wants the medal of finishing and the satisfaction from running the marathon. This  group knows that the marathon is good for their body, their mind, and their spirit. They have done pretty good their whole lives to live a healthy life. They will say I am not a marathoner, but I run sometimes, I eat right most of the time, or I read about health when I’m sick. They might have run in shorter races and trained athletically for other sports. This group is not ready to marathon and hesitant to register for a marathon without more training, more education, and more support. This group wants to learn more, but doesn’t know where to start or what groups to join to gain information. They want to participate  and are willing to do what it takes to cross the line, but it’s going to more training, more information, and support from the true marathoners to be successful. 

The Cheerleader Marathoner. This is the marathoning fan club. This group loves marathoning, but prefers to watch. Some members of this group might have run a marathon before but were injured, or are too old, or just don’t have enough strength to pursue another race. This group wants to volunteer to give water to the marathoners, make the posters to advertise the marathon; donate money to support the marathon; and cheer the runners along the sidelines to encourage and support. These will be those with tears streaming down their face when the last group crosses the finish line. When the award goes around the neck of the finishers, they wish they could have run the race too. They feel success by supporting the marathoners’ successes. The marathoners love this group, they respect this group, they really need this group to keep them going throughout the race. 

The Apathetic Marathoner. This group of people really don’t know about marathoning and don’t really care about marathoning. This is the “good for them” group. This group is content with their life, their circumstances, and their position as a non-marathoner. When the marathoners gathers at a restaurant and talk about marathoning, this group of people chooses to meet elsewhere. They are fine that some people feel the need to either be runners or learn about running, but they are not interested. 

The Non-Marathoner. This group of people believe the rewards of the marathon, but don't believe that a marathon is how these rewards are earned. This group believes that the marathoners have been pushing marathons on people as the only way to victory and do not acknowledge that there are other sports that have the same benefits of marathoning. This group might say that boxing, triathlons, or snow showing have the same rewards as marathoning. This group may say marathons strain the body to the extreme and the abuse the body takes outweighs the benefits of the marathon. They might say that marathoners are fanatics and that they've gone overboard at yet another marathon. 

The Resistant Marathoner. The people in this group don’t really care about the marathon and don’t want to participate the marathon. This group will find every excuse why the marathon is dumb. They will blame the weather, the route, the runners, the city of the race, the organizers, the cheerleaders, their body, someone else’s body, the history of marathons, the history of other sports, and even the failure of their favorite marathoner to finish a previous marathon. This group will say I don’t care if they have their stupid marathon, but will wait to see if the runners reach the finish line. If they don’t make it, then they’ll be the first to say “I told you it was a dumb idea.” If the runners do make it, they’ll say, “I could have done it, but…” and then give you a thousand excuses why it was someone else’s fault that they didn’t try. This will group say they don’t care if the marathon happens, but don’t it in their city, inconvenience their schedule, or to be a part of it in any way. When they turn on the TV to watch the stock market numbers, they are irritated that the marathon is showing and they change the channel.

The Band Wagon Marathoner. These people say they are marathoners, but ride in the car for 26 miles and then cross the finish line in a big group; there is safety in numbers. At the end of the race, they’ll celebrate like they’ve done something valuable and pose for pictures with their medal. They bounce from a marathon, to a basketball game, to a boxing match trying to get attention at every event. They receive the recognition through false pretense and want the glory as if they’ve done something great. They cheer the loudest, look for cameras as they run, and pat each other on the back. 

The Anti-Marathoner. These are the people who, no matter what, will be against the marathon. These people see no reason for the marathon, because they were given the marathon medal at birth because their great grandfather was the very first marathoner. They are happy with how they feel, look, perceive the world, without participating in a marathon. This group thinks a successful marathon will infringe on their current standard of living. They think that a marathon is going to make them look weak or not as powerful. These are those who will slam the door to the marathon promoters and complain to their neighbors at the marathon is bad for the community. This group might organize a group called the anti-running group. They won’t call themselves the anti-marathon group, because being transparent makes them to open to criticism. Instead, they will try to ambush the marathon behind closed doors. 

We, as a nation, are facing a metaphorical marathon, a very long and difficult race to being one. It is different than a traditional marathon because there are several courses, that vary in difficulty, that meet at the same finish line. Each participant can choose which course that is best suited for them to successfully finish the race. The prize is available is for every person that crosses the finish line no matter how long it takes, which course is chosen, or who they choose to run the marathon with. The prize for crossing the finish line at the end of the marathon is more valuable than a million dollars. The prize for this marathon is equality for all, including and especially for our black brothers and sisters. 

Here’s the thing. Each of us, whether we like it or not, have been registered for this marathon. We have to enroll in the marathon by choosing a group to run with. We have to ask ourselves, what group do we best fit into? We might actually start with one group and join another along the route. We must ask ourselves, am I a…..

The True Marathoner. A black activists. They are people of color (PoC) that lead and may be members of PoC activist groups. The people in this group align with both the left and right political viewpoints. This group has literally trained, fundraised, protested, met with political officials, sat in congress, and have organized black rights advocacy groups. This group is likely to cross the finish line leading other groups, because they are prepared and fit to lead. They will likely have to train others, if they want other groups to finish. 

The Die Hard Marathoner. This group of people are the white activists. The people in this group align with both the left and right political viewpoints. They do much of what the true marathoners do, but they are not black. They cannot have the same experiences of PoC, because they have not run the metaphorical race. However, this group is vocal, passionate, and focused. They’re going to run the marathon, but must rely on the true marathoners to cross the finish line. 

The I’ll do it for the Prize Marathoner. This group, which I think is the majority of the participants, wants the equal opportunity and the breaking down of barriers for all people. The people in this group aligns with both the left and right political viewpoints and is made up of both PoC and white people. This group wants to be a part of the movement, but needs more opportunities learning, more education, and must question their own biases. The movement has probably not been on the forefront of this group’s mind, but they are not resisting learning and shifting their mindset. Some of this group may be a little hesitant, because they have not ever consciously addressed racism and it’s hard to think that they are part of the of a situation they are so unfamiliar with. They want everyone to cross the finish line, but it is going to take time and energy to the whole group to make it.

The Cheerleader Marathoner. This group is made up of people who aren’t ready to put themselves out there. The people in this group align with both the left and right political viewpoints and is made up of both PoC and white people. This group probably has had experiences or the personality that make them hesitant to stand out to stand up loudly for change. They haven’t posted on social media or asked a lot of questions outside their home. I think this group has made quiet efforts. They’ve probably talked to their children about loving everyone, sent a meal to a friend who is struggling with the situation, written a thank you card to the wonderful police officer neighbor, and prayed fervently for peace. This group has a quiet love for humanity, and are probably really conflicted on how to “show up” right now. There quiet support often gets seen as non-support. 

The Apathetic Marathoner. This group of people does not understand the purpose behind the movement, doesn’t care to know about the movement, and is hoping that it will fizzle out and people will just move on. The people in this group align with both the left and right political viewpoints and is made up of both PoC and white people. They are irritated that the press is addressing the issue and would rather watch re-runs of their favorite comedy, than get informed. 

The Non-Marathoner. This group of people believe that equality and justice should be achieved without the movements and protesting. The people in this group align with both the left and right political viewpoints and is made up of both PoC and white people. This group will agree there is racism, but profiling another group as "bad" or "the problem" negates the purpose of change. This group of people believe that the work should be done within the racial community, because the majority of the problems in a community are same color problems. They may say that the news distorts information to amplify racism, rather that focusing on the individual who committed the crime.

The Resistant Marathoner. The people in this group feels like there’s no purpose in movement. The status quo is what it is and there doesn’t need to be change. The people in this group align with both the left and right political viewpoints and is made up of both PoC and white people. This group is posting that racism is a myth and made-up for political gain and votes. This group of people believes that hard work creates opportunity and that injustice is probably more about consequences personal actions rather than race. This group is looking for every excuse to ensure that their beliefs, individual rights, and personal lifestyle is not interrupted. They believe they are not part of the problem, and don’t need to be a part of the solution. They are sitting at the coffee shop talking saying, “If they would just..” and then blame everything and everyone else for the problem, and not offering a solution.

The Band Wagon Marathoner. These people are attention seeking cowards. The people in this group align with both the left and right political viewpoints and is made up of both PoC and white people. They are the rioters, paid looters, violent law-breakers who take the attention away from the real cause to bring attention to themselves. These are the people who think they are “funny” or “cute” by posing for selfies and partying, while real people with real heartbreak try to make their voices heard. 

The Anti-Marathoner. These are those who no matter what information is out there, what history has witnessed, what their soul tells them, will be against the movement. This group have those that align with both the left and right political viewpoints and is comprised of white people and may include people of color. These are people who are threatened by change. They are afraid that equality means they lose their position of power. These people have never experienced racism and may even agree with racial power. This group may actually be trying to maintain power with supremacy groups, whose goal is to stifle the voices of the marathoners.

After that long metaphor, I am asking myself, “Who am I?” “What do I want to be?” “What do I want my legacy to be?” and “Can I look in the mirror and be proud of who I am?”

Finally, I think about the words of Albert Einstein, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” I cannot instigate change in myself by just thinking about the world, I have to do something different. I have to ask myself, “What am I going to DO DIFFERENT to change the outcome for better?” 

We are Different. We are One.

May 2020 was a sad month in American history, but hopefully one that results in the change for a better tomorrow for our children. On Monday, May 25th a black man, George Floyd, was killed by four police officers in Minneapolis, Minnesota. A ten minute video was watched by millions as a white officer knelt on Mr. Floyd's neck as he cried, "I can't breathe", "Mama", "I'm going to die", "It hurts" repeatedly until he suffocated and died. A black man's life being taken so in humanely sparked an uproar in Minnesota and across the country. The black community is fed up with the blatant racism that is taking the lives of black people because of the color of their skin. They are tired of living in fear for their children to go outside on a jog or go to the park and hangout with friends. They are tired of their constant and consistent plea for equal rights, treatment, and consideration and not being heard by the people of power. Their non-black counterparts are tired too. We are sickened by the treatment and lack of opportunity of our black brothers and sisters. Enough is enough.

In response to a history of oppression and the killing of George Floyd, peaceful and passionate protests were planned and executed across the country. Unfortunately, many of the protests turned into violet riots that resulted in looting of businesses, graffiti on public and private property, burning of corporations and small businesses, and the injury and death of rioters and police officers. In Salt Lake City, Utah, my home state, rioters flipped two cars and set them on fire, tagged property with vile statements, broke windows on cars and businesses, and threatened the safety of police and private citizens. While I sympathize and support those who exercised their first amendment right to peacefully protest, I do not support those who destroyed property, engaged in physical brutality, and cost business owners the ability to support their families. I've read and watched interviews of the leaders of people of color advocacy groups plead with the public to let their voices be heard in peaceful and meaningful protest. The leaders encourage supporters to vote, sign petitions, participate in organized and peaceful demonstrations, work with local political leaders, educate yourself and others on the history of oppression in Black America, and to donate to reputable change organizations. With the rioting, the real purpose for protest was lost. The the media, the public, and the rioters focuse changed from Black rights to what gets most followers on social media, the biggest audience on the 5 o'clock news, and what might go viral on the internet. Unfortunately, the oppression of black people and the death of black lives became secondary to attention seeking rioters.

I too, lost focus of the real problem. I found myself staying up all night watching the rioting and the clips of fires, looting, conspiracy theories, and "news worthy" captions and photos. I found myself worried for my excellent, white, police officer friend, who is almost like a brother, and his family, who was on duty the night of the riots and at risk to oppose radical rioters. I felt the anger grow with a pit in my stomach. I found myself being consumed with anger of the loss of property, the privileged non-black looters who were posing and twerking for pictures, the ignorant anti-protesters posting racist and insensitive replies on news reports, and the news outlets showing the same photos and clips of violence rather than the peaceful protests in other cities. I was distracted by the "show" and lost focus of the primary problem, the people who are hurting and the voices of the unheard. I decided I needed to do something to enact change in me, my home, my community, and the world. In order to change me, I need to examine me. What experiences drive my personal biases? What do I want to change? What is my hope for the future? What are my blessings? What are my burdens?

I woke up the next day and saw many of my friends sharing a short video published by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. The main idea was that we are all different, different is the plan, we should embrace our differences, and yet we should unite as one. We are brothers and sisters who share common dreams, hopes, and challenges. We are human and our fundamental purpose is the same. I started to refocus and think about my own family. I realized that my entire life, our differences have been embraced. Even if we wanted to be the "same" as everyone else, our heritage and race were honored. Race and the color of our skin was never something to be ashamed of or embarrassed of. My little white mama was way ahead of her time. When my little sister tried to wash her brown skin away in the bathtub, she told her how lucky she was to have brown skin and brown eyes. She said people paid a lot of money to have beautiful brown skin and told us she would trade us if she could. She made us attend heritage camps, bought us brown and Asian dolls, dressed us in culturally traditional clothing, and taught lessons at church and adoption classes that differences in skin color doesn't mean differences in the heart and in the soul. Everywhere she went she proudly announced that all 11 of us were her kids. You know, I always remember being different from others, but I never remember feeling less than others. So, I was raised in a home where color was so embraced that color blindness resulted. I am lucky.

Did we feel racism and discrimination? Absolutely. I remember the first time I saw how racial divide affected me directly. I sitting in sociology class in 12th grade. The teacher said, "Raise your hand if you would date and marry outside your race." I raised my hand and fully expected to see 30 other hands go up. I looked around and I honestly don't know how many people raised their hand, not many. However, I do remember seeing two of my male friends, who I love and respect and probably had a crush on at the time, look me in the eye and tuck their hands down under the desk. It stung, it hurt, and I could tell it hurt them too, it's hard to examine yourself. They were my close friends and good boys, and are even better men, but they had somewhere learned that interracial dating and certainly marriage were not acceptable. It's okay for others to believe differently than me. However, it was the first time in my life that I knew that despite my best efforts and all the things that were within my control, my race limited my potential. My family faced racism but we fought discrimination. My mom made sure we stayed home on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, when the school district didn't honor the holiday. One time she drove up and picked up my black sister from school after she had kicked a boy for calling her the "n" word in 8th grade. My mom told the principal if anyone ever did it again, my sister was had permission to kick harder. Then they went for a milk shake. When kids pulled their eyes to make them squinty and talked in gibberish to mimic a foreign language at me, my mom would say they were jealous because they will never look as pretty as me and never be as smart as me. My mom tells of an instance of a school meeting where she told teachers and administrators that brown and black skin were not qualifiers for special education and that she wanted some kind of evidence that her kids needed special education before she'd sign the papers. Yes, we definitely felt discrimination and oppression. In response, I was taught that racism is based in ignorance, and education and action create change.

Each person has the right to know that their inherent value is equal to the other billions of people around the world, and should be treated as such. I am different and that makes me special. I am proud of who I am, including my race. I am Malynda Lee Stout Tolbert and I am a first generation Korean American. My kids and my nieces and nephews, almost all are people of color, have been raised to embrace the differences of the people in their lives and to be proud of their own heritage. I wish for my children to walk proudly and identify themselves as multi-cultural Asian and white Americans and not fear or be ashamed. I wish for all children of color and all children, to embrace their rich heritage and not fear for their safety because of the color of their skin. I hope for a world where all people will look at their friends and especially strangers and see the unique differences and embrace the history, the culture, and the beauty that defines the humanity of being ONE.

The Reality of Racism

The last few days I’ve read the news of Amaud Arbery’s shooting and the acts of racially driven violence against Asian Americans during the Covid-19 pandemic, and I have a sick heart and a pit at the bottom of my stomach that I cannot shake. Almost two years ago, I posted about an racial attack on Zack at the local Walmart. Many, including my dear friends, reached out to check on Zack and the rest of our family. There was outrage at the thought that Zack had been approached and verbally assaulted for no reason, other than his race. When I read about what happened to Amaud because he was African American, to the woman who had acid thrown in her face because she is Chinese, to father that was stabbed while shopping in Sam’s club because he is Korean, and other racially driven attacks, I am sick! I look at those pictures and I see a mother’s son, a child’s mommy, a boy's brother, a baby’s father, a teenager’s friend. I see my child, my sister, my nephew, my brother, and my friend.  I see a PERSON  being attacked for no reason other than the color of their skin. It makes me angry, and sad, and scared, and sick. I hope as others read the headlines or see the horrific images that they see someone that they love. Each of these people has name, a family, and friends; they more than a headline or a nameless face without a story. No one- NO ONE, should walk out of their house in fear of being attacked for being a human being. 

I personally attest that there are people, my children and I included, that live afraid. Zack is afraid to go to the store alone, Kelsie is afraid to go out without a mask, Clark is afraid for his Chinese friends, and I am afraid for my Asian son in NYC. And I am mad that we live afraid. As I was shopping in my local Costco a couple of weeks ago, a woman and her companion were shopping with all of the other customers until she saw Kelsie and I walking up the aisle. She intentionally backed-up, turned around, and stared me down until I picked-up my item and moved on. Fortunately, a family backing up and a staring me down doesn’t physically hurt, but it is certainly hurtful. It should not happen, but it does; it shouldn’t take a viral video to get people’s attention; but it does. I will loudly say that our fear over other people’s actions and hate will not keep us home and will not stop our joy. We are bigger and better and stronger than ignorance. 

I just cannot understand why a person’s race, ethnic background, gender, sexual orientation, weight, height, religion, socio-economic status, disability, or any other human characteristic can drive another human being to be flat out inhumane. It just baffles me. I don’t believe people have to like everyone, be everyone’s friend, serve every neighbor, or even be kind (I mean, all of these things are nice and good people try to do these things). But I do believe that every single person should, in the words of my dear friend Michelle, “just be a decent human!” You don’t have to come to my home; our kids don’t have to get married; we don’t have to go to lunch together; get together for a  bbq; or even sit next to each other at a ballgame.  But PLEASE… just be decent - just keep shopping, just walk by, just tell your kids to ignore mine, just refrain from spewing hateful comments, just keep your fists, knives, and guns to yourself! In return, I promise that being a decent human being won’t cause my Asianness to rub off on you; your skin color will not change; you won’t speak in Spanish; you won’t be banned from Costco; and you won’t get Corona. However, being a decent human, might remove the hate in your heart, the ignorance in your soul, and the narrowed perspective in your sight. It may even make you feel decent, and I assure you that decency is a good feeling.