What kind of man...

Mujasi and I take the Metro into the city and spend the day at the Museum of the American Indian, which should in the very least be renamed American Indian Museum, AIM, in honor of AIM, the American Indian Movement. After tearing himself away from the hot chocolate with almond milk minus whipped cream, we explore the exhibits, absorb the movies, and play the electronic game testing our knowledge. As usual, the museum closes on us before we have time to explore everything, even though most of it is on only two floors.

We walk through the mall and Jasi wants to see what is in the Museum of Art – immediately upon entering, we are shadowed by an anxious white male guard who wants to assert his blessed authority, nervous about how close Jasi wants to stand peering at ancient white male figures, colorful yet so unfamiliar. Even though there is only a few minutes left before closing, I decide to cut short our exploration and leave quickly, with no objection from Jasi, as too many paintings depict men doing awful things to womyn.

Another opportunity to talk about the kind of man Jasi can grow up to be: one that society will attempt to mold him into, violent and dominating especially womyn, and always fighting, or the gentle, kind, loving one that I attempt to mold him into.