She’s Crazy

And here I am. Pregnant with number four. 

I think I might be crazy for doing this.

This baby thing. Again. 

Oh, what the hell.

How hard can it be?


Insane Anti-Breastfeeding Lady Is Insane

Just a little follow-up on the breastfeeding post…

A friend of mine posted this on Facebook. And frankly this attitude is quite disturbing.

It’s an anti-breastfeeding post by One Sleepy Mom.

Now — I firmly believe that women should be able to make their decision to breastfeed or formula feed without guilt.

And as a woman, I celebrate choice — whether it’s the womb or the boobs.

But that doesn’t mean I blindly support every choice a woman makes. It doesn’t mean that I agree with her reasoning.

And I have to say that I find this woman’s reasoning quite appalling and completely lacking in — I don’t know — logic?

Just a few highlights:

I am personally horrified by the thought of my mother’s breast in my mouth, and my children are extremely happy that mine was never in theirs.  There goes the “bonding” theory.

I just… what?

If you can’t sterilize or boil it, it shouldn’t go in your child’s mouth in my opinion.

Kids put their HANDS in their mouths all the time — do you sterilize and boil their precious fingers?

Have you ever sat across the table from a breastfeeding mom?  They just pull out their breast and go at it.

This has not been my experience. Almost all women that I’ve seen breastfeeding in public have been covered. But if a woman just “pulled out their breast” to “go at it” — I wouldn’t care. I think it’s great! This woman is obviously projecting her issues on other women.

I would NEVER, EVER, subject my child to knowing that my unsanitary breast was in her mouth.  If you choose to feed your child breastmilk, that’s great.  Breastmilk is the best for your baby, and you should do whatever is best.  But before you go shoving things in your children’s mouth without their consent and offending everyone around you, you might want to think about it and invest in a pump.  If you can’t afford one, your local WIC office will lend you one.

And I don’t think I need to comment on this to point out how incredibly insane this statement is. I’ll just let you bathe in it’s absolute lunacy.

Happy Wednesday!

When Your Child Is An Atheist

NOKIA Lumia 710_001391

My evil atheist.

My twelve year old boy is an atheist.

He’s been a self-proclaimed atheist since he was about seven.

The kid believed in Santa Clause, but I guess God was just too unrealistic. I’m assuming his faith in Santa stemmed from the fact that he received presents from a fat guy with a white beard — and not from a guy with a white beard sitting on a throne in the clouds.

And that’s always been okay with me. I’m an agnostic and we’ve never (as a family) followed a particular religion (although I did grow up in the evangelical church — but that’s a story for another time.) Not having any type of belief system — in my eyes — makes it easier for the kids to be free thinkers. And while I’m not fond of religion, I’ve always taught my kids to respect other beliefs.

Religious tolerance had to be learned pretty early in my home. While my son is a staunch atheist, my eight year old daughter believes “in God and Jesus,” so they’ve already had a few heated discussions about the existence of God.

So my son.

The atheist.

He was sitting in his school cafeteria last week, when a kid (let’s call him Sam) came up to him and asked him if he believed in God.

My son, Ryan, was taken aback by the question — but answered with a “no.”.

To which the kid totally freaked out.

“You don’t believe in God? You don’t believe in God?!” he screamed. Sam started telling everybody in the cafeteria that Ryan didn’t believe in God. Soon other kids were looking at Ryan and telling him he would go to hell for not believing in God and Jesus.

Mind you, this is a public school. A public school in a very liberal community.

Sam then tried to get Ryan to touch his crucifix and “repent.” I don’t know if this kid just carries around a crucifix or maybe had one on a necklace — either way, I found his behavior just a bit disturbing. This kid succeeded in getting the other kids riled up, and soon a group of girls and boys were asking my son why he didn’t believe in God. To which my son replied, “Believing in God is like believing in Santa. He just doesn’t exist!”

Oh. My. God. Well, Sam started yelling obscenities at Ryan.  Then another kid (these are sixth graders, mind you) was upset because he still believed in Santa Clause and Ryan had just proclaimed that Santa doesn’t exist. Sam then goes up to a cafeteria employee and says, “This kid doesn’t believe in God!!” as if tattling would make Ryan see the error of his ways. The employee shrugged her shoulders and said, “That’s normal!” and went back to her work.

Anyway, so the situation died down and my son continued on with his day. When he came home, he was brimming with excitement and amusement telling us this story.

I was glad that he was amused. It showed that he was confident in his beliefs. I asked him if he felt bullied and he said, “No. I just feel annoyed.”

But it bugged me. I wrote an email to his Math teacher (because most of these kids were in his math class) to give her a heads up on the situation, and I told Ryan that if it continued again tomorrow, I would be calling the school.  The only thing that kept me from calling the school that night was the fact that Ryan didn’t seem upset. At all. He was laughing about it and rolling his eyes. And this is a sensitive kid — I would definitely know if he were upset because he cries at the drop of a hat.

But it DID happen again.

The next day, Ryan was waiting outside his math class when a group of three boys started taunting him for being an atheist. One kid had a picture of Jesus on his shirt and tried to get Ryan to touch it. Sam yelled at Ryan and claimed that he lost his crucifix and it was Ryan’s fault. Soon a group of ten or so kids were crowded around Ryan asking him why he didn’t read the Bible or believe in God, and doesn’t he know that he’s gonna go to hell if he doesn’t believe? Ryan said, “I just don’t believe in God!” He asked them why they believed in God and they replied, “Because our parents do!” The kids tried to tell him that God wrote the Bible — a comment that made Ryan very exasperated. Ryan replied, “What?! PEOPLE wrote the Bible, not some man in the sky!” The heated discussion continued in the school hallway until they were let into the classroom. When Ryan found his seat in math class, he said that Sam was staring at him from across the room.

So I picked up the phone and called the school. I spoke with the Vice-Principal and told her that Ryan was being targeted because of his beliefs. She took my concerns seriously, and I gave her a list of students who had been involved. I told the VP that I think it would be great if the kids could have discussions on the mysteries of the universe — as long as there was some simple respect.

The following day, I got a follow-up phone call from the VP who stated that she had a meeting with Sam. She said that she spoke with him about respecting other’s beliefs — no matter how different. She said that Sam was very earnest in his beliefs and had an authentic concern for Ryan’s soul. The kid was literally trying to prevent Ryan from enduring an eternity of fire and brimstone. Which is sweet and all — but a bit — uh — nutty.

I know, I know… religious tolerance and all, but damn. This kids parent’s aren’t teaching him simple etiquette? Simple thoughtfulness of others? Cursing an atheist is Christian love? This child learned this behavior from somewhere — perhaps it wasn’t his parents — but I highly doubt that.

After playing around on the internets, I have found that I’m not alone — obvs. I came across blogs such as Raising Freethinkers which  brought some comfort — and I can definitely share in some of her frustrations. On a side-note I noticed that she hasn’t posted since December — and she needs to post again soon — cuz her blog is awesome.

On the other hand, I’ve had to reign Ryan in from his judgement’s as well — his eye rolling at religion — his comments on how stupid people are for believing in God.

I told him that most of the world’s population believes in something — a higher power of some sort. I also told him that not all people who believe in God think that God is a man or think God is a separate entity sitting in the sky answering prayers. I told Ryan that believing in God is a complicated thing and people have so many different ideas of who or what God is.

I just want to make sure Ryan respects all the different spiritual traditions and religions. Having a religious discussion is fun and interesting as long as all parties are respectful of their religious differences. No name calling. No eye rolling. He needs to be aware of that.

But he also needs to know that the way he was being treated is wrong. It was harassment — even though the children had good intentions. And that’s the thing — religious intolerance always seems to stem from “good intentions.” These types of “good intentions” are just bad. And history has shown that.

This whole situation has me wondering what else is in store for us as we navigate the social tightrope of teen-dom. But with Ryan’s ability to chuckle and shake his head at the situation — I think he’ll make it through just fine.

In closing, I came across a blog post by Atheist Mom that briefly touches on discussing “critical thought and evaluating claims” with your children.

May your week be filled with religious freedom and acceptance!

How To Give Up Breastfeeding And Not Feel Guilty About It: Part 2

Mother Feeding Baby

If you read my previous post on breastfeeding, you’ll know that I was very successful with nursing my first two babies. Just to do a quick recap — I breastfed my first two for over a year — almost to the 18 month mark. I had basically zero issues except for some minor pain in the beginning. My babies latched perfectly.


So when I became pregnant for the third time, I expected the same ease — the same loveliness and warmth with breastfeeding that I had with my first two.

It never occurred to me that I might have problems. There was just no question in my mind.

I kept thinking: I’m a good, educated Mom. Of course I’ll breastfeed.

Before you hate me for my smugness, let me tell you my breastfeeding story.

Breastfeeding my third baby was pure fucking hell.

In the hospital, the lactation consultant figured I knew how to breastfeed since I was successful with my first two. She basically came in, looked at me, and said, I see you’re experienced. Everything looks fine! And then she walked out of the room. She didn’t even look at my baby’s latch.

And he was latched all wrong. I could feel it. And no matter how I tried, he just wouldn’t open his tiny little mouth wide enough. He would just take in the very tip of my nipple. And this became excruciating.


By day four postpartum, my breasts were hard as rocks and on fire. I remember looking down at my left breast and thinking, Huh. That’s weird. What’s that big huge red streak doing there? By evening I had a fever of 103 — and full blown mastitis. My mom and my aunt were experienced nursers and encouraged me to continue nursing through it. Every article I read said to continue nursing to relieve the clogs in the glands.

So I did.

And I cannot even BEGIN to tell you how much it hurt. I would throw my head back and wail in pain as my mom and my aunt helped him latch to my bleeding nipples. My precious newborn was literally sucking the life and blood out of me.

Let’s just put it this way. My nipples looked like ground beef. Yes. I want you to visualize that so you can see what women go through to give their baby the “very best.” And of course, since mastitis is an infection, I had to go on antibiotics. And this was when I discovered that I was allergic to Penicillin.

I broke out into an itchy, painful body rash. It was on my face, neck, arms, tummy, legs — you name it. So there I was with bleeding nipples, a horrid infection, a full blown body rash and raging postpartum depression — not to mention, I was recovering from my third C-Section. After a week, I was able to get out of bed, but the rash was still there. After two weeks the mastitis was back again full force. I had to go on another antibiotic and I soon discovered that I was allergic to Cephalosporins. Yes. I broke out into ANOTHER full blown body rash.

All through this, I kept nursing and pumping. Pumping and nursing. Waking up every two to three hours to pump because my breasts were so engorged — and because I wanted to keep my supply up.

I didn’t want my husband to see my breasts because they were so mangled — like open wounds.

By week number three I had to go to the dermatologist to get something for my rash. She prescribed a steroid and told me that I could never take Penicillins or Cephalosporins again — because I could die from an allergic reaction. She basically said that the rashes were my body’s way of warning me to stop taking them.


After the appointment, I got into my car — and cried. Sobbed. Wept.

I was exhausted. I couldn’t enjoy my baby. I couldn’t enjoy my children. Plus I was still recovering from a C-section.

And I thought —I’m done. I’m so fucking done.

So I called my husband, and through my crying hiccups and snot and tears — I told him to buy some formula.

And I felt like a piece of shit. A failure. Yes, folks. After all that pure fucking hell, I was still being hard on myself — like it was my fault that I couldn’t breastfeed.

But you know what?

When it comes down to it, I didn’t WANT to breastfeed anymore. I could’ve kept going. Could’ve kept pumping to keep my supply up — but at this point, my baby was just nursing out of my right breast because my left breast was so painful. He wouldn’t even latch on to my left breast — would just straight up refuse it. And he was probably refusing because I would stiffen up every time he tried to latch. He could feel my anxiety.

So my husband bought some formula. I continued to nurse my boy out of my right breast for an additional three months, but we supplemented heavily with formula. Then one day, he didn’t want the breast anymore. He was done. I tucked my right breast away — this time for good.

And he became strictly a bottle baby.

When I made that decision to start giving formula — I grieved for a week. Yes, dramatic. But I did. I cried my heart out. I thought I failed my boy. I was giving him something “second rate.” I was reading blogs that compared formula to fast-food.

I was made to feel that what I was doing was equivalent to child-abuse or neglect.

But you know what happened? Because I didn’t need to pump, I started getting more sleep. My son became a good sleeper (and yes, I know the lactivists say this is a negative thing,) and my breasts healed. I became healthy and happy again — and wouldn’t you know it — my son was healthy too.

He’s two and has been sick twice in his life. I know this is purely anecdotal evidence — but fuck. The breastfeeding movement needlessly scares the shit out of mothers.

Oh, and he’s not “less intelligent.” He’s barely two and recognizes all his letters and knows their sounds. He knows all his colors and shapes. He counts to ten and sometimes beyond. In addition, my first born — who was breastfed for 18 months — has severe learning disabilities and ADHD.

I’m not saying there are no benefits to breastfeeding. What I’m saying is — there are no guarantees either way you slice it. Whether you choose breast or bottle, there are other factors that play a more significant role in how your child develops.

During my grieving phase, I found a website that made me smile again. The Fearless Formula Feeder was my go-to blog for awhile — because posts like this made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It made me feel normal — like a mother who just wants the best for her baby regardless of how he’s fed.

Because anguishing over breast milk vs. formula should NOT be on our to-do list as new mothers. We have other shit to worry about — especially if there are older children to take care of.

Especially because — as women — we need to take care of ourselves.

How To Give Up Breastfeeding And Not Feel Guilty About It: Part 1

A few days ago I posted the intro to my breastfeeding series. Then I got into an car accident and I’ve been busy with car repairs. So that’s why there was a delay in my follow-up post. My sincere apologies.

But anyway…

Breastfeeding. It’s supposed to be the epitome of motherhood — of womanhood. It’s what the educated woman does. The informed, conscientious mother offers her breasts to her newborn to give the milk of life and health.

I’ve experienced this with two of my babies. I was blessed with the ease of breastfeeding. My nipples seemed to form to their little newborn mouths perfectly. There was only brief pain in the beginning. The only challenge being that my first child was attached to me constantly for the first four weeks of his life — so much so that I looked at the formula samples in my cupboard with envy. What if I had my husband feed him just this once? Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a little break?


I was told formula was inferior.

Not just inferior — practically poison.

bottle with green ring

Only “uneducated” moms fed their babies formula. I knew some moms had genuine difficulty breastfeeding — that sometimes there were health issues involved that prevented breastfeeding. But I had it in my smug little head that such situations were rare. And besides — if they really wanted to breastfeed — they could pump — or go to one of those breast milk banks. I mean, WHY would you give your baby something inferior unless you were — I don’t know — uneducated or misinformed?

I know this is a story that’s been told a million times. The breastfeeding story. But I strongly feel that you can never offer your fellow sisters enough encouragement when it comes to breastfeeding. Next to abortion, it’s one of the other major female dilemmas of choice. But it’s a dilemma of choice that we should have — and a choice that we should not be ashamed of making regardless of the decision we make.

The difference between the choice of abortion and the choice of breastfeeding is — obviously — stark. In one, you’re eliminating the zygote or embryo for your own human physical and mental well-being — in the other, you’re offering your body for the physical and mental well-being of another.

But there are similarities. With abortion, you’re told by old white republican men what to do with your body. With breastfeeding you’re told by upper-middle class white liberal women what to do with your body. I’m speaking in generalities here, of course.

Women just can’t win.

English: WPA poster promoting breast feeding a...

My first two babies were champion nursers. I supplemented with formula with my first baby after I went back to work, but he mainly got pumped breast milk. My job offered my a very generous lunch break so I could run to my in-laws house and breastfeed my infant. With my second child, I exclusively breastfed. I don’t think she ever got a bottle. She went straight from breast to cup.

As it should be! — I thought.

I had friends who tried and “failed” at nursing. I heard various stories from them. It hurt too much. The nipples were inverted. The breasts weren’t producing enough milk. The baby had thrush, or the mom had mastitis.

I nodded sympathetically.

Yes, yes. Of course I understand. I would say. But just get through the first four weeks. Once you get over that hump it gets so much easier. You just need to fall into a rhythm. Just stick with it!

Of course I had good intentions and I don’t necessarily think that I gave bad advice. Didn’t all the research point to the fact that breast milk is the perfect food? Who wouldn’t want a smarter, healthier, disease – free child? Why would you switch to formula and risk your child getting diabetes later in life, or becoming obese, or getting a kazillion ear infections, or getting RSV, or — or — or — yeah. Like, shit. There’s a million things that can go wrong if you don’t breastfeed.

But I’m sure these women had heard those words of “encouragement” from all the lactation specialists, La Leche League, family, friends, blogs, etc. As a breastfeeder I was told that there is so much pressure NOT to breastfeed — that we must resist the evil formula companies, avoid pediatricians who support supplementing, say no to those formula gift bags that the hospitals send home with you — that the media is filled with mis-information about breastfeeding and we must avoid the negativity towards breastfeeding at all costs and stand-up for our rights as breastfeeding women!

A blog that I used to read and agree with whole heartedly was PhD in Parenting — a smart and educated blog about parenting and other subjects as they pertain to women and family. In this particular post, the author talks how she was disturbed by another mother’s comment that encouraged women to give up breastfeeding after 2 weeks it it wasn’t working.  The author, Annie, went on to say that she was saddened by this woman’s attitude. I see Annie’s point of view — and I know that breastfeeding women need support — but her comment drove me crazy:

A woman wrote an honest first person account of her difficulties with her attempt to breastfeed her baby. Her story is sad. She had significant difficulties breastfeeding. She got questionable advice. She had people judging her instead of helping her. In short, the cards were stacked against her and she was set up for failure. I don’t blame her. This happens to a lot of women and it is unfortunate. I can’t say for sure if she would have been able to breastfeed successfully if things had been different and even if she could have, hindsight is 20/20 and there is no point in rehashing that now. So while I was saddened by her story, I don’t judge her (or anyone) for choosing formula if they feel that they cannot breastfeed for whatever reason.

It’s this particular attitude that gets me. And I used to have the same attitude. It’s the idea that the woman was misinformed — she received “questionable advice.” Poor lady. If only she had the right information, she would probably still be breast feeding. Right?

I know this may sound terrible, but — who cares?! If she can feed her baby with a nutritiously sound alternative, then why not? And what if she gave up breastfeeding because — I don’t know — she wanted to — because it’s her body? Annie goes on to say:

I sympathize with the woman that wrote the original post and I know her heart is in the right place when she tells people they should give up at 2 weeks, but I don’t think she realizes that she is undermining them if they do want to continue and that recommendations like this can have disastrous results for breastfeeding rates and subsequently for our healthcare system.

With all the information that’s out there, with all the education that’s available for women — I hardly think that this type of attitude will affect breastfeeding rates. Women need to be given a bit — a lot — more credit.

But this does not mean I’m anti-breastfeeding. I’m just pro-choice when it comes to boobs.

On the other end of the spectrum, I believe women should be able to breastfeed in public without people throwing a fit — even uncovered. I think it’s good for people to see how babies can be fed, regardless if there’s a boob showing or not.

But I will tell you this — when I started supplementing formula with my third baby, when I stopped offering my breast when he was three months old, when preparing bottles with this so-called poison — this so-called “baby junk food” — became the norm for my husband and I — that’s when I felt it. The judgment. Not just my own feelings of failure — but the condescending nature of lactation specialists and breastfeeding mothers. Not directly. Not to my face. But the message was clear in mommy forums, articles, blogs like Annie’s, and books.

And the consensus was this — You didn’t have enough information. Did you read this such and such article that explains the benefits of breastfeeding? You just needed to stick with it a little bit longer. It’s not too late! Start pumping again and you can get your supply back! It’s so easy to give up in the current anti-breastfeeding climate.

Holy fucking hell.

I was filled to the brim with education on breastfeeding. I was very successful with my first two.

But on top of that — my boobs were on fire.

But I’ll get to that tomorrow in Part 2 — wherein my nipples become open wounds. And how I had a chance to continue breastfeeding — but decided to quit.

How To Give Up Breastfeeding And Not Feel Guilty About It: Intro


breastfeeding (Photo credit: sdminor81)

This week I will be doing a series of posts on breastfeeding.

And as you can see from the title — I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.

My feelings on breastfeeding are a bit complicated. I nursed my first two successfully for well over a year. And I was quite smug about it. Things changed with baby number three. It was a struggle that made me re-think my entire philosophy on breastfeeding and how breastfeeding is yet another guilt – inducing choice that women have to make. And the conclusion I came to when I went through my breastfeeding hell with my third baby was this:

Breastfeeding culture is not friendly to women — it’s coercive.

And here’s where it gets complicated — because I’m not anti-breastfeeding. I’m a breastfeeding advocate. A breastfeeding advocate who thinks it’s a woman’s choice as to whether her breasts will be used as a feeding device. And perhaps the term “feeding device” is not correct — because the breasts are also a source of nurturing for the infant — an experience — that if it all goes smoothly — is actually quite lovely.

But when it’s not a lovely experience, then the whole nurture aspect goes out the window. If mommy is stressed, then baby is stressed.

A woman should not have to make excuses as to why she’s not breastfeeding. A woman doesn’t “give up”. She comes to the conclusion that:

  • It’s not for her. Period.
  • She gave her body up for nine months and for the love of god she just wants it back.
  • It’s none of your damn business what she does with her boobs.
  • She gave it a go but complications arose and life is too short to worry about feeding her baby from her boobs when there’s a perfectly acceptable alternative — formula.

The F word.

Formula. It ain’t poison. It’s food. And whether you believe it or not — if prepared correctly — it is a perfectly acceptable and nutritious alternative to breast milk.

For the next week I’ll touch on how my idea of breastfeeding has evolved from a you-must-breastfeed-your-baby-even-if-it-means-martyring-yourself mentality to the idea of breastfeeding as it relates to feminism, choice and Total Motherhood. 

Total Motherhood being an ideology held up by society that is, according to Joan Wolf a professor of Women’s Studies at Texas A&M University, a “moral code in which individual mothers are ultimately held responsible for any harm that befalls their children.” A code that, essentially, expects women to anticipate any and all harm that may befall their children, and eradicate it. If a mother fails, then she is made to feel guilty — perhaps not directly, but indirectly in the form of mommy blogs, articles, and mommy forums that reflects a general message pervading our society:

That mothers hold the key to our children’s well being, and if we choose not to breastfeed, we are throwing away the key. An idea so fucking backwards that it essentially throws women under the bus all over again.

I mean, really. Don’t you think women have endured enough? Aren’t you tired of being made to feel guilty about every decision you make?

Tomorrow I’ll touch on my past beliefs on breastfeeding and the difficulties I faced with a baby whose hunger for life literally mangled my breasts — and how a certain blog helped me through it.

Until then, may you feel empowered with every decision you make!

Wherein My Son Tells Me He Wants To Be A Racist

Last night my 12 year old son asked me if I would rather be a racist or if I would rather be someone who suppresses religion. He was sitting on the couch in his black hoodie, looking at me with his big blue eyes — his young, blue eyes — and asked me this question with all the earnestness that a 12 year old can muster.

Which isn’t much — but the fact that he was asking such a serious question instead of sitting there with his arms crossed, glaring into space, made it seem like an earnest question indeed.

“I would rather die then be either.” I said.

He looked puzzled.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because hating someone based on the color of their skin — based on what they look like — is vile. And telling an individual or a group of people that they cannot worship or believe in the god or religion of their choice takes away one of our most fundamental rights as human beings.”

Then I asked him.

“Which would you rather be?”

“A racist.” he said.

A racist. My son would rather be a racist.

I looked at him as I would look at one of my patients coding at work. And I thought — this has got to be fixed, STAT.

So as a nurse rushes to get a crash cart — I rushed to grab my laptop. And with the world of education via google images at my finger tips I showed him the horror of racism, prejudice and religious suppression. From the lynchings of black people in the early 20th century, to Rosa Parks, to the march on Washington. From the horrors of Auschwitz with piles of dead bodies to photos of cherubic babies and children prior to their fate of being thrown into ovens. And a photo of a young jewish girl rescued from a concentration camp — all skin and bones with a vacant look in her eyes.

It was some hardcore education. An education that he hasn’t been getting in school because the pictures are considered too disturbing.

He put his head on my shoulder and said:

“I can’t believe I asked that question. I can’t believe I said that.”

And I considered my job done for the moment. Because teaching kids tolerance and empathy is continuous. It’s a job that I thought I had been doing, but had not really and truly succeeded at until last night. A job that perhaps I’ve taken for granted as we live in a very culturally and racially diverse area. I’d assumed my son accepted everyone equally — and maybe he does. Maybe he just didn’t have a full grasp of what racism means — but now he has a much better idea — and it’s a topic my husband and I will discuss with him more frequently.

But then.

As I was pitter-pattering around the house this morning, I decided to go through my second grader’s school papers.

And I came across this.


It says: Obama is the best symbol because he lets black people vote. Because he is black. 

In addition to some spelling practice, I think we are in need of another history lesson tonight.