Park Slope Reader

Ambika Samarthya-Howard

Selfish Dreams

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life Tagged With: , , , , , ,

There’s pivotal moment in every mom’s life after the birth or adoption of her child when she decides she has the space, desire, and need for self-care. This can come in the form of returning to the book by the bedside that’s been there since 36 weeks, or returning to her favorite yoga class.  Unfortunately, for working moms, this moment sometimes comes later, and for me, it came a year after my child was born and I went on my first retreat. From there, I was inspired to head back (reluctantly) to the gym.  And that’s where I met Natasha Forrest.

I think there’s a Natasha in many of our lives.  She’s the woman you randomly meet in the library or bar who is just a kick-ass woman, and then you realize that not only is she a mom, but she’s also doing amazing and unconventional things in their career. Natasha is even more of an inspiration for me because she’s a single mom. Natasha was a full time accountant, with crazy hours, doing part time fitness training on the side, when she was let go from her job during a company lay-off.  Her son was one at the time (he’s now five), and she decided she actually liked her part time job more. She had the choice to find a new accountant job, or follow her dreams.

So she decided to go for it.

The irony of having a child is that is gives you a deep awareness of what truly matters to you, but the clarity it shows you is even harder to put into place because you now have another being completely dependent on you.  I left my ad agency job after I had Ananda to go back to writing and filming for social good. I have friends who left their jobs after having a kid to pursue their novel or graduate degree.  I realize this is a position of economic privilege – to be able to leave your stable job to pursue a risky alternative.  With Natasha the courage was even more profound because she is the primary caretaker. “Is it selfish? Of course it is. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. You have to look out for you. At the end of the day no one else is going to,” she said honestly.

It’s a way of being and speaking we are not comfortable with because of many of the parameters of guilt and shame often put onto moms. I myself am often overwhelmed by the guilt that comes with caring about something outside of my child. I feel it both as a social taboo and a biological pull.  Annabel Crabb once said: “The obligation for working moms is a very precise one: the feeling that one ought to work as if one did not have children, while raising one’s children as if one didn’t have a job.”

It’s even more audacious for moms who love their job and pursue dreams, because they love what they do, and want to do more of it. I asked Natasha how she copes with the guilt, and she responded that following what she loves actually enables her more flexibility to be with her son. “I set my own hours, I don’t stay up all night stressed out with work.”

I found myself making similar adjustments when I took on the lead communications role at a global NGO based in South Africa. I start working as soon as I wake up at 6am on most days, to make sure I can pick up Ananda by mid-afternoon.  My job involves deadline pressures, conference presentations, and frequent travel – all of which sit with my personality quite easily. But I still catch myself justifying my career: whenever someone asks “wow, how do you balance all the hours” or “don’t you miss your son when you’re away?” I immediately explain how the job allows me flexibility to be on his schedule so I still spend half the day with him.

What’s shocking is how much I’ve internalized this, to the point that when someone says “sounds like the perfect job for you”, I still respond with the script of “but I do it cause I can make the hours work”. When did following our own dreams feel like such a guilty pleasure?

Motherhood and careers hardly feels a balance – it feels more like an avalanche. Natasha has worked hard the last four years, getting training certificates, putting in extra hours, all while managing drop offs and pick-ups. She’s had a series of promotions – and an insanely toned body – to show for it.  She also has a wonderful, active son.  The worst thing about giving your all to your career and your family is that you’re exhausted. “When I’ve been training all day, I’m tired at 9 and can’t play soccer with my son,” she confides.

Ironically, listening to Natasha’s long-term commitment to herself and family gave me the strength to pursue my last selfish goal: to get back to working out regularly.  I’ve started to see exhaustion as not a reason to not do something, but as part of the journey.

It’s always about trade-offs. But it’s also about being happy. And when a mom is happy, often her children and families are too. Natasha may be an ambitious personal trainer and single mom but she’s one happy woman, and I can imagine her son is better off for it. “I still sometimes ask myself when I’m going to get a real job,” she jokes. Then she turns and asks me to give her another set of mountain climbers.

What it means to be Half-White

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life Tagged With: , , , , , ,

 

When I first returned to New York to study film at Columbia in 2000, I remember hearing about a Brooklyn based parenting group created for South Asian parents called Mixed Masala. The group included parents who adopted from South Asia as well as parents who had recently emigrated from the subcontinent – the common thread being a desire to raise children within that culture. I decided if I had children in America I wanted to be part of that subculture.

Fast-forward 15 years and I found myself married to a Seattlite and living in Prospect Lefferts Garden. When I go to restaurants and parenting groups in the area, I’m very conscious of the fact that Ananda does not look particularly South Asian. I realize based on my clothing and the vibe I give out that particular day, many people assume I’m his nanny, and I can see their discomfort as to how to refer to our relationship when they ask me questions about him. His skin is not pale, but it’s not dark, and his features, aside from a robust set of hair, do not mimick those of Indian men. It then became even more important to go out of my way to raise my child with as much Indian traditions and culture as I could muster, and my husband was very supportive of this. For me being Indian meant communicating a Buddhist tradition, introducing him early on to Indian music and foods, as well language and place.

[pullquote]How early does one learn privilege and power? How early does one understand racism and discrimination? I’m really not sure[/pullquote]We became close to a few people from the MM group and attended their events. I found a Buddhist Tibetan nanny through a vigorous hunt where I pooled all my listserves together, and for the first year of my son’s life she brought a deep spiritual and cultural nuance to childcare. My mom cooked most of his early solid foods, from daal to idlis (South Asian rice patties), and my husband and I introduced him to spices early. My husband danced bhangra with him, and my friends showered him with Indian clothes. O insisted that my mother only speak to him in our mother tongue and I repeatedly spoke the few words of Hindi I can muster. I’m committed to bringing him to India early on, and for him to be immersed in Indian culture.

I feel good about all of this, at least for now. I resist when people ask how to shorten his 6 letter name and if he has a nickname. I respond that it’s already quite easy to pronounce and only 3 syllables. And I know I unconsciously give him an abundance of kisses and attend many happy hours to make sure everyone knows he’s definitely my son. The plight of bringing up a mixed child is old news, especially in Brooklyn.

What has changed recently is the intensity of the racial climate in America – or perhaps more transparency of a historically existing one. Within the context of the Black Lives Matter movement and the hatred Trump has brought into the American forefront, I now have to learn what it means to raise my son half white.

In the same way that introducing language, spices, and spiritual beliefs early on will impact Ananda’s life down the road, I think that’s important to begin communicating the cultural and political burden of his whiteness. I asked my husband how will we raise him white and he joked and said “consumerism.” Since the dominant culture in America is white culture, we don’t have to go out of our way to raise him white per se, as that’s the default.

But I want to make sure to teach Ananda that whiteness means privilege. It means that he may get scrutinized in airports when people see his hyphenated last name, but not when the police don’t issue him a ticket. I don’t want him to be ashamed of his whiteness, or adopt it too willingly – I want him to understand the deep responsibility to be aware of the political situations of our times, and feel deep compassion and act accordingly. It means understand that being white carries power that he can choose to use wisely, and that how his parents are treated differently is not coincidence.

I wonder how I will teach him these things. It’s not the same as my sing-song voice which hums tunes to calm him during a diaper change, or adding a bit of spicy chutney to his solids. It’s nuanced. How early does one learn privilege and power? How early does one understand racism and discrimination? I’m really not sure. I do know that habit formation happens early on, as does recognition of smells and people, and this is not something that can wait until school to be taught.

What I do know is that there are progressive communities like Mixed Masala and the anti-gentrification movements in Brooklyn to support me as I raise my son. I’ll continue to help navigate my son through the experiences he has when we ride the subway, and we ride it often. And that rooting myself in how my neighborhood is growing may be as important an education as a trip to Bangalore.

The Business of Gentrification

By Filed Under: Friends & Neighbors Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,

Gentrification: the process of replacing the poor population of a neighborhood with the affluent and reorienting the district along upscale lines.

When most of us think of gentrification, we not only mean that wealthier people are moving and displacing lower income people in specific neighborhoods, but we are often indirectly saying “white people are coming to replace a black neighborhood”. People joke that you know when a neighborhood is gentrifying when the first cupcake place opens, or when there are competing coffee shops serving pour overs. One friend marks it with the introduction of a Thai restaurant. Regardless, the businesses that arrive and thrive can signify a lot about your neighborhood.

Artwork by Daniel McCann

Before I start, I want to communicate two disclaimers:

1. As someone who moved to Brooklyn from Manhattan only a few years ago with my husband, both of us having full time jobs and holding graduate degrees, I identify as one of the gentrifiers.

2. A full comprehensive look at evolving businesses in Brooklyn would take several hundred pages. My handpicked few are merely a reflection of my personal taste.

Realizing the repercussions of our choices, specifically where we spend our money, many of us have strong opinions and loyalty about where we eat and drink. But it’s not so simple to make decisions along race, class, or even “how long have you been here” lines, as many new businesses are black-owned and historic shops not always are. And where does supporting female or small businesses play into the equation?

One place this intersectionality has shown its complex face is Prospect Lefferts Garden.

Take for example, Blessings Herbs & Coffee on Flatbush. The owner Lilian Bonafina, an Italian woman, opened the establishment two years ago after living in the neighborhood for x years. All the employees, including the co-owner, live in the neighborhood as well, and while other businesses have shut down and had to move out of the area, they have recently renovated and expanded to include a backyard space and will soon be open for dinner. The reason, in my opinion, is obvious: They know you there, and the customer loyalty has paid off. Lily knows everyone and on any afternoon is handling plates, talking to my son marking how much he’s grown, and quickly bagging up food when it rains.

Other places, like Delroy’s Café and Wine Bar and 65 Fen, a wine store and restaurant on Fenmore, also benefit from this street cred. Michel Campbell opened the wine shop seven years ago, and with its success followed with a wine bar two years later. He’s lived in the city 34 years, but doesn’t see the neighborhood as a gentrification project. When I asked him if he was feeling threatened by the new businesses he responded “You never feel secure, but I’m not threatened. I have knowledge as I’m entrenched in the neighborhood and have rent lower than most.” He talks specifically about the rise of stores and restaurants selling alcohol on Flatbush, but connects it to the state liquor authority needing more funds, not gentrification. Michael knows what wines I like and how to make my family feel at home.

But not all new businesses have found it so easy to build customer loyalty. Andy Charles, the owner of Greenhouse Café was forced to move his family out of the neighborhood from the economic pressures from his business. While Andy is Dominican and fits right into the predominantly Caribbean neighborhood, he’s only moved in about three years ago from East New York. “I would hang out in this neighborhood and that was the inspiration (to opening the business). I should have moved in earlier.”

There’s an important distinction between community driven growth versus corporate driven growth. Beforeitsgone.co is a great new social media site dedicated to fighting gentrification in Brooklyn, and explains many of the nuances in detail. When the community asks for establishments to stay open longer or to offer more diverse food options, residents respond very different than if a corporate chain tries to take roots in the area. This can explain the success of Parkside, a new brick side pizza oven restaurant, which attracts families, couples, and regulars. It filled a sore need for an upscale, but laid back cocktail place and has lived up to its expectations.

So where does that leave us: those who identify as political, and recognize that being new to a neighborhood means an opportunity for us to make choices that could be a drop in the bucket of the future of our borough? I’ve noticed most long term residents in Prospect Lefferts Garden will ask questions about the owners, supporting small business entrepreneurs from within the community.  We also frequent spots that hire local residents, and that don’t play dirty with other businesses.

For me, it means touching base with the locals who have history there to hear the spots they want to support, and to keep asking the hard questions. And to hold off on my cravings for a cupcake or Thai food until I’m in the city next time.

PLANNING THE UNEXPECTED

By Filed Under: Park Slope Life Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Tibetan prayer flags decorated my couch for weeks. Each was created by a friend to encourage me through labor and to welcome my son home. Between preparing playlists for all stages of labor, reading childbirth books, and drinking daily raspberry tea, I had become obsessed with when and how I would give birth. How did I get here?

Ambition and desire plays a part in everyone’s life. Since I was a teenager I had envisioned the exact Ritu Kumar red and gold dress I wanted to wear for my grand Indian wedding. I dreamed about living in New York after college. I read books and essays fantasizing about working and traveling in distinct corners of the world, which I pursued with passion. And I took all my plans seriously, putting them into motion. But I had never given being pregnant or birthing any thought.

Then here I was pregnant, with everyone asking me how I wanted to give birth, and what I had imagined it would look like. I had always assumed birth happens, not that I had to plan it. I knew I would not necessarily have control over my body – so why fantasize?

 

[pullquote]The lessons I learned to let go and accept my body and myself for what it is will stay with me through my motherhood.
[/pullquote]

But my doula, doctors, and hospital had all encouraged me to come up with a birth plan and I enjoyed the exercise. The plan included words describing how I wanted the birth to go, what medications I was open to, who would be involved and how, and procedural consent. Every woman I spoke to who created a birth plan had an entirely different labor, but I still felt at least asking the questions to myself would put me in a good place emotionally.

When the day came, I went from early labor to more intense labor, from bathtub to bouncy ball to wall clutching in 18 hours, I put all my tools into use until I felt I could no longer take the contractions and wanted an epidural. At 3:1:1 (1 minute contractions every 3 minutes for an hour) I felt ready to go to the hospital. “This is just pain. This is not suffering.” I repeated those phrases repeatedly in the dreaded cab ride to the hospital.

Hoping I was close to 6 or 7 cms dilated, the nurse solemnly told me I was not dilated at all, and the baby had hardly even fallen. I was experiencing prodromal labor – where a woman is in labor for hours, days, weeks, without her body dilating as one would in active labor. The writing was on the wall: within 14 hours I went from an epidural to Pitocin to induce labor to a c-section. I was thrilled to feel my lovely baby boy finally on me and relieved to eat and just be with my family.

The c-section was not in my birth plan, and it made me feel like a failure and less of a woman/ mother. But as I began nursing and getting to know my son, I realized motherhood was just beginning. I asked Leigh Kader, a doula whose birth education classes I attended this fall, about the point of doing a birth plan, as I grew in the coming weeks to slowly question why I had spent so much time in my pregnancy creating expectations. She responded: “If you don’t know your options, you don’t have any. But because of the unpredictability of birth, I prefer the term “preferences” to “plan” because plan feels rigid (and rigidity leads to disappointment) whereas preferences imply open mindedness. Writing your preferences down insures that you and your partner on the same page about what is important to you both during the labor and immediate postpartum.”

It definitely had helped in discussions with my husband and doula. “It’s a useful tool for thinking through what is most important during the birth and the immediate postpartum time. It can also be a great way to get to know your care provider and feel reassured that your birth team is all on the same page about your preferences.” another doula, Sarah Lewin, described. I still had a hard time wrapping my head around writing down choices for an event I couldn’t control.

People can clearly see the harm of holding onto the image of the perfect relationship, the ideal partner, or the dream apartment. So how does one envision birth without attachment, to hold preferences without expectations?

Maybe the focus should be about the process itself: the idea of birth plans as a movement for pregnant women to have their voices and choices heard in a process that has become overly medicalized and less personal. Roseanna Seminar, a midwife at Park Slope Midwives, pointed out that “items that people used to put in the birth plan are now automatic (skin to skin, no separation, delayed cord clamping etc).  We build a trust with women during the pregnancy. This helps when things don’t go as planned and we need to change it.” I definitely did appreciate looking forward to the choices I made about skin to skin and not being separated from my son.

As I reflect at my recovery, my healthy boy, and the loving manner in which my surgery occurred (my son was on my chest the entire time), I am thankful. The lessons I learned to let go and accept my body and myself for what it is will stay with me through my motherhood.

 

Ambika&Child

 

A Daily Practice

By Filed Under: Mindfulness Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,

When Pema Chodron, the well-known Western Buddhist writer and ordained nun, went to the dentist and he asked her what she did, she responded that she taught meditation. He told her that one day he would begin meditation when he was less busy. She said you probably won’t need it as much then.

A daily meditation practice is like getting to the gym: The longer you stay away, the harder it is to return to, and the more you do it every day, the more your body eases into the habit. When I first started my daily practice several years ago, I fought the usual demons: Restlessness while sitting, lethargy, laziness in getting to the cushion. It was only through repeated group practice at the non-lineage Interdependence Project in lower Manhattan that I began to integrate a daily practice into my life and start feeling the benefits.

[pullquote]Ultimately meditation and daily practice—however it transpires in our lives—can be our treat to ourselves and those around us throughout our lives (and especially the winter).[/pullquote]

In Brooklyn itself there are many centers that provide courses and spaces for mindfulness and meditation, including the Vajradhara Meditation Center in Boerum Hill, the Brooklyn Zen Center, and Third Root Community Center. Paul Sireci, dharma teacher at Third Root, started practicing when he was fourteen or fifteen. A former monk, he’s had a daily practice since he was twenty. “I think it’s given me a better perspective on my emotions. My lows are less low and my highs are not necessarily less high but they don’t seduce me in the ways they did before. I’m more content and when you are more content you don’t need to be wildly happy.”

A daily practice of even fifteen to twenty minutes can be surprisingly difficult in the beginning. Often sitting alone with our thoughts provokes more anxiety in us than peace, even though (or maybe exactly because) the primary purposes of meditation is to become friends with our own minds. People may not find slowing down easy or pleasurable. My husband enjoys his sitting practice except ironically when he feels particularly stressed or anxious, which is when meditation can really help ground us. Sitting with your own thoughts and feelings can be daunting, and it’s not until one begins to trust how they arise and pass, and approach themselves and others with gentleness and kindness that meditation becomes an essential part of one’s day.

Another hurdle to daily practice is prioritization— it sometimes feel overwhelming to bring in a new daily task amongst all the other responsibilities one has. The crucial turning point often comes when you can begin to see the benefits and changes your practice has for yourself and others around you. There’s a leap of faith and often some amount of discipline to go from the intention of having a daily practice to embracing one. At some point, not meditating feels like not taking a shower—like something is amiss.

Practice doesn’t always have to mean sitting. In fact, sometimes the rigidity of having a sitting practice itself intimidates many and can be an obstacle to meditation. Peggy Horwitz, a Brooklyn-based psychotherapist emphasizes mindfulness and kindness to oneself. “I’ve been meditating for over twenty years but for me practice means paying attention and going inward with kindness. For clients who already judge themselves for not sitting long enough or daily, practicing mindfulness throughout the day and in other ways can be equally powerful.”

While having a specific place and time for practice can help structure the daily routine, I often find that being mindful on my commute or while I am in line can be powerful elements of practice. They involve being kind to myself and others, of relating to those around me, and of paying attention at those key moments when we often forget ourselves and our surroundings the most.

Besides habit, there’s also faith. A teacher at the Interdependence Project, and long-time Brooklyn resident, Kate Johnson is a student at Brooklyn Zen and New York Insight. She remembers how it took her nearly three years to make daily practice a reality. “I had this unconscious belief that I was the one person in the world for whom meditation just wouldn’t work.  Of course, I was wrong.

“I think I was inspired to practice daily when I noticed how much kinder I was to myself and others on days that I practiced, and how much more I was able to let go of striving for perfection and just appreciate being alive. I practice meditation because I care about myself, and want to give myself an opportunity to feel grounded, expansive, and connected.  I spent so much of my life not treating myself very well at all.  Meditation is a way for me to tend to my own heart, so that I can tend to the world with love.”

Ultimately meditation and daily practice—however it transpires in our lives—can be our treat to ourselves and those around us throughout our lives (and especially the winter). And maybe if we’re finding ourselves too busy to consider it, we should feel even more compelled to sit. That challenge could be our biggest gift.

Buddhism and Meditation

Third Root Community Health Center

380 Marlborough Road

(718) 940-9343

Vajradhara Meditation Center

444 Atlantic Ave

(917) 403-5227

Brooklyn Zen Center

505 Carroll St. #2

(718) 701-1083

Rock blossom Sangha at Brooklyn community of Mindfulness: meet Sundays from 6:30-8:30 at Church of Gethsemane in Park Slope