February Is the Shortest Month

It's February, and so Black History Month in the U.S., and because of this and oh-so-many other reasons my book group is reading White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo and I'm Still Here by Austin Channing Brown, both excellent and worthy reads, particularly when read in parallel. Although the theme of the selections, a seasonal phenomenon, does tend to bring to mind the pesky question Why now? and the uncomfortable exchange:

Q. Why is February Black History Month?
A. Because it's the shortest month.

The barbed joke is not to suggest that black history lacks substance – far from it, the dual narratives of black enslavement and Native American genocide are foundational for the entire hemisphere and continue into the present – but rather to hint that white attention spans are so short that 28 days (or 29, in a leap year) is really all the time anyone could reasonably expect white people to pay attention to anything not featuring them in the starring role. A stereotype, perhaps, or put another way the ability to flit into and out of conversations on race and culture, and impatience at being confronted about the same, are prime examples of white privilege. Earnest explanations that the choice of February has something to do with the Great Emancipator's birthday could similarly be reframed as whitesplaining, centering the conversation on whites, and denying agency to blacks. It's all about perspective and point of view.

Whew! Time for a cookie photo of some yarn, a seven-color Find Your Fade kit from Neighborhood Fiber Co. -- an independent, urban, black-owned, woman-owned business. How's that for virtue-signaling? Although ::cough:: I bought the kit back in 2017, and while it still sparks joy, I haven't yet knit it up. Too much travel, sigh.



Sadly, and no surprise, retreat into fibery goodness provides no safe space from race matters, witness the turmoil propagating from a single insensitive blogpost about an international trip. It's a striking illustration of white tears that many crafters do not see the original post as problematic at all and instead lament that the blogger's dream vacation has been ruined by over-zealous BIPOCs. All that unspooled in less than a week in January, and continues to unspool. While I hesitate to dive into the controversy now – and have hesitated to link to the OP, not least because I think she's gotten quite enough attention – the topic is not going away anytime soon. So let me link the links and ruminate on my February reading and keep on keeping on.

Edited to add: this Vox article gives a helpful, non-judgmental summary of the controversy.



As last month was unexpectedly hectic (gusty sigh), I never did manage the January FIJ Challenge, citrus. I'm catching up now with some citrus jam (not marmalade) made from miscellaneous leftover Lunar New Year citrus – a lot of tangerines, two Meyer lemons, half a Cara Cara navel orange, and a couple segments from a red grapefruit. I'll never repeat the exact mix again! I mostly followed this recipe for Orange Cardamom Jam... except the fruits were so sweet and fragrant, I omitted the cardamom, used Pomona Pectin and only one-third of the sugar, and had a greatly reduced cooking time. It's my first time using Pomona Pectin, which does not rely on sugar to set, and I think I overdid it – the set is a bit rubbery. But the flavor is fresh and sweet-tart with just a touch of pleasantly bitter aftertaste. The yield is excellent: a scant three cups of citrus pulp turned into five quarter-pints of jam with an almost-full jar as the cook's share. I neglected to take any process photos; it was a little surprising how the intensely colored tangerines turned golden with cooking. Overall, I'm pleased, and the jam is my first official FO of 2019 – a little sweet to go with the bitter.