There’s so much going on the world right now, isn’t there? Most
times, I don’t even know where to start to begin to process it. I often shoot
my friend Jody an email and that helps because I know she wonders too and I know that we can have an uncomfortable conversation [Thanks
Jody!]. I'm learning so much about what stems from misunderstanding and imposing our thoughts, cultures, and religions on others.
I grew up in a small rural town in South Mississippi. I would
not trade this for anything. I loved it. It was so valuable in forming my solid
foundation. It was simple, yet complicated I would later learn, but rich.
Over the past 10 years, I’ve had Asian and Latina friends
ask me several times how I became to be who I am and “not like many white
people.” [I'm not offended by their generalization because I know it comes from experiences they have had, I'm not here to argue it or reduce it] Although I have a lot to learn, I’m proud of who I have become and
those questions at least let me know I’m on the right track and to “keep on
keeping on.” I hope you can say that too? I look back and who I am today is a
smattering of experiences and discomfort fueled by curiosity and a yearning to
be connected in the world.
I moved to California in 2001. I had never been so far away
from home. The farthest I had gone was Mobile, a whopping 45 minutes away. I initially
moved to Hollywood (later moving to Orange County). It was exhilarating and
overwhelming to my senses. I loved it. I was a fish out of water but soon found
my new fish bowl. Or maybe I was more of a goldfish in the Pacific Ocean? I was
soon surrounded by all kinds of “fish” and it unlocked this curiosity in me
that had never before been exposed. I fell in love with the diversity, but I was
also shaken by it. All of my world views and perspectives were suddenly
challenged – both internally and externally. All of the absolutes (and many “those
peoples”) were confronted.
I made a ton of mistakes as I learned to access my new
world. I had to figure out how to satisfy this desire to learn more about
people without offending them in the same breath. I wanted to know everything
about them. I wanted to know their stories. A comfort in the discomfort began
to develop as each story chipped away at ideals that I had held about things
and people and countries and systems and EVERYTHING. I appreciated those who
did not get offended as I misspoke and misasked (“What are you?” or "Which Asian are you?"– makes you
cringe right, those who are so PC? I know, me too). I made all the typical “white people
mistakes” as they call it out of a genuine interest to know others.
Side note: I think we
should spend less time guffawing at the way people ask questions sometimes and
focus on the reason they are asking – when they WANT to know you…answer and
politely teach the better way of asking. Race discussions can only get better
when we can educate one another and not be scared to ask a question because it
may be the wrong way to ask. I’m thankful for patient friends. I didn’t and
never will have that perspective of other races and cultures. We “white people”
would certainly ask in the most “politically correct way of the moment” if
we knew how.
My view of immigrants changed as I sat at the feet of a
friend and listened to her stories of what she fled from in her native country and how hard she has worked
since landing here to become a citizen get an education and give back to this country. I served
in Boise Idaho with Create Common Good who assists refugees who are placed in the
United States. I saw how hard they worked to acclimate quickly, within a ridiculous
time frame, to learn skills and the language in order to secure a minimum wage
job (mind you, many who were “comfortable” in their own countries before war).
I learned a lot through my own immigration story with Luba. I
learned what it is like on the “other side” with legal immigration. It’s
difficult even when you do everything correctly, and even as the “White middle
class American.”
I saw the hardship as I recycled weekly – me saving for
adoption and others recycling to make ends meet, to put food on their families’
tables. Many of them were far beyond their “working years.” I made a point to look around and see people.
I found a church where I was the minority. It was primarily Asian American - Korean and Chinese with a spackling of other nationalities. I stuck out there (there were less than 10 white people I think when I started, and that's out of hundreds) but loved it. I was nurtured there and grew so much. I was gently led for over 10 years by Asian pastors, friends and prayer warriors.
My sister’s husband is Vietnamese. I’ve learned so much from
him and his family – his family who took me in when they married as if I were their
own. What a gift to hear immigration stories first hand – leaving Vietnam,
settling, growing, being what you are today. Again, I had only known Vietnam
through minimal stories of the war. We as a country don’t really talk about
Vietnam, still.
I took a trip to South Africa, with Africa being a continent
I never wanted to visit. It wrongly represented a personal painful history. The
people and landscape of that country has taught me the most about myself, about
God, about humanity, sacrifice and love. I still dream of my trips. I can see
it vividly. I can smell it. It is where I met my husband and where my new
family lives.
Through providing therapy services, I have been in many
homes of many cultures, but one of my favorite ones was a family of Islamic
faith. In public, I first noticed the differences. At home, I couldn’t tell
where I ended and they began. The mother was free to walk around dressed just
as I was. Her husband was one of the kindest, and most hilarious, men I have ever
known. Neither were radical, but like me, they clung to their faith to navigate
and do right in this world. They were equally distraught of over radical faith
and acts of terror. I remember them when I watch the news or read comments by
Americans who disregard another religion because of a minority of radicals.
What if people judged me by those Westboro Church beings?
I'm partial to everyone having equal human rights whether I agree or disagree with their decisions. The reason that drives it home? Not too many years ago, my marriage would have been illegal in the United States. I cannot even imagine. It makes no sense. We have the gift of hindsight to see these things. I never want to look back with that same gift and realize I was part of something that violated another's rights because I held so tightly to my own as if they would have changed.
I began to think about the lives of young African American
boys as I felt called to one day adopt a young black male. I had never been “against”
anything in particular or argued the plight but I had simply never thought of
it. It never affected me directly, or so I thought. That is, until it became personal. I began to learn of the safety talks men
have with their sons and the fear that haunts mothers (both adoptive White and
African American mothers) when their young Black sons are out at night. People don’t
just make this up. To my white friends with all white families, it is real. The
media is the media and that’s a blog for another day, but the line of truth
that there is an issue today runs through the story somewhere. I knew it was
real when Luba came and we lived in Huntington Beach, a city with a sordid past
with race. He wanted to walk to CVS a block away to pick up a few things at
night. Without understanding fully, I had a visceral response to him walking out the door. I couldn’t
reconcile it. I worried the entire time he was gone. That made it more real. If
I had this feeling, what is it like for those who live this every day? The
African American mom who sends her young teen out into the streets hoping that
there are no assumptions or miscommunications that night if he gets pulled over. I learned that i can't wait until issues directly affect me - it'll be too late.
As I’ve met so many with accents and dialects unlike my own,
I’ve learned to listen to the message. Focus on WHAT they are saying and not HOW they say it. Double negatives? No problem. Dropped off that final –s to
mark a plural? No worries. It’s most important that we talk and convey the
message and listen.
Every day in my marriage presents a learning experience. I think
marriage is a hard hard hard road when you are very similar. Throw in two
personalities, experiences, cultures, countries of origins, and you can easily
make quite a cocktail!
I want to continue to learn. How do you learn? How do you
challenge yourself?
For me, I have watched a ton of TED talks in addition to asking others their stories. It’s the easiest
thing to do to listen to another person tell his or her story. I try to choose
one by people with the focus on storytelling or race. I also read my Bible. Loving
others and loving your neighbor (which doesn’t mean the ones you like or are
like you) are mandated in that good leather bound book. Jesus loved, without exclusions
or clauses. His message was simple and clear.
I love this quote by Stephen R. Covey:
Most people do not
listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.
In my words, I would add: with the intent to reply, to
defend, to argue, to correct.
Maybe try some of my favorites and listen to the TED talk or
podcast with the intent of listening. Do not say anything. Do not argue or let
those thoughts enter in. just listen. Breathe and listen.
Try some of my favorites - I promise you will reap some
wisdom or be enlightened if you listen: [email me if you listen to any - would love to know your thoughts!]
TED talks:
Podcast:
*transcript available if you’d rather….
My favorite line in all of this is: “Whiteness is like the invisible presence of the narrator in a story told from the third person point of view.”
With love,
Danielle
