This book isn't for everyone, but I wish everyone would read it. Especially every white person that I know, and even those I don't. I think of myself in a pretty good place in regards to understanding those that are not white, especially those that feel like they are still fighting a battle that is beyond their control. Then I read this book, and realized that I honestly have so much still to learn. So journey with me, as I go through some of the things that I learned, and was made aware of while I read through this book. I am still thinking over, and dealing with quite a bit of this book, so this is just a very beginning of some major changes in my thoughts, and how I look at race, being white, and my role in helping a country, and the world to heal and learn to love each other more.
Most of my blogs, are me trying to understand life more, and most of the time is a way for me to work through things that I have read, and thoughts that I have. So, I am not here today as an expert by any means, but I do urge you to pick up this book, and read it. I think that you realize some of the things that I have, and maybe even a few more.
"Shared my confusion about the claim that I was part of a larger white culture that dominates every other culture it comes in contact with."
My first instinct in reading the above was to say... no we don't do that. Do we? Then thinking about my life, the places that I have lived, and what I have encountered...I think we very much do. I think I especially found this to be true when I lived overseas. In a lot of ways I was never taught to be quiet or sink back into the shadows. Because I never had to. I never had to worry that someone was going to judge me because of my race. I was able to be whoever I wanted to be in every place that I was, except for one. When I visited Vietnam, it was like this weird out of body experience. I wasn't supposed to show my passport, I wasn't supposed to let anyone know that I was an American. The opposite of what I had felt in most every other country I had visited. I had to sink back, and lose a part of my identity. I can't imagine having to be cautious of that for my whole life, yet that is the reality for a LOT of people in my country and around the world.
"Why do you think rich white people need to come save us poor brown people."
My first ever overseas "mission trip" was to India. A place that I grew to love, a people that opened my eyes so much. I was a sophomore in college at the time. That trip led to me wanting to be a "missionary." I spent a year in Egypt, 3 years in Thailand, and went on various mission trips all under the guise of "saving" people. I think that there are plenty of missionaries out there doing what they feel called to do and they are humble, kind people. But I also feel like some of the American especially Christian American mentality is to go "save" those that are less fortunate than ourselves. I'm glad that God opened my eyes to the way I was looking down on others just because I was born in a different place than they were. It doesn't make me better, and it doesn't mean that I need to go "save" them. Sure love them, help them, but my goal should never be to "save" them because I am so much better off then they are. Especially not because of their skin color.
"Culture consists of assumptions that we make; these assumptions are then transmitted from generation to generation."
I am so glad that I had the opportunity to step outside of my culture. I am not sure where I would be now if I hadn't been able to see people in a different way. We grow up in a household, hearing what our parents think and believe. Those thoughts at least most of them came from their parents, and those came from their parents. We look at people and assume that we know them because of what we have been told or experienced. I for one am so glad that everything people believe to be true about me is not because of some assumptions on their part. That would really stink. But we do it, every single day. We allow things said to us to impact the way we treat those around us. What an awful way to raise up each generation.
"Many names are considered "normal" within white culture, and when a name is seen as weird or unusual, it's usually because the name doesn't fall within that standard."
Oh, I could tell you so many stories of hearing "that's a weird name." Especially when telling stories of my former students that I had overseas. This point really struck home to me, as an example of the way that we normalize white culture, and hold it as the standard to every other race. We make fun of names that don't fall within our "normal" white culture. We ask people with skepticism where they come up with that name. We don't stop to think, it is their normal. Why do we just assume that our normal is the "right" normal? The next time I hear a name and think about how weird it sounds on my ear, I am going to ask myself why that is. Why do I just automatically say that anything that is not my culture is weird?
I'm going to leave with one more quote. This is not at all the end of my blogging about this, but I do have other things to get done today, and I find that if blogs are too long, no one reads them!
"When the journey begins to feel like any combination of scary, confusing, disorienting, or even painful, we have a privilege that people of color do not: we walk away; we can go back to "normal," if we choose."
I've seen so many angry posts from my family and friends about being "privileged." How they can't believe that anyone would even consider them privileged. Let me tell you about a time that I was overseas. I was about to board a plane. In my memory I did not remember that the weekend before I had gone on a retreat with middle school students. One of them had brought a cap gun on the retreat and I had confiscated it, thinking I would give it back to him at the end of the retreat. Well fast forward to the airport. That same back goes through security. The security guard calls me over and asks me if I have a gun. I say "no, of course not." My friend is with me visiting from the states, and she is looking at me in a state of shock. I look at her and kind of shrug. Then this guy pulls out from a hidden pocket inside of my backpack, the gun that I had confiscated from my student. I of course immediately freaked out, and said it wasn't mine. Except for it came from MY backpack. The thing is that he just let us throw it away, and then we boarded the plane. He didn't question me, or call me a liar, he just let me go. It is not lost on me that I was able to get through that situation without any problems because of my privilege. I guarantee that you have a story like that if you are from America and are white. You may think you don't because you didn't grow up wealthy or because you have never left the country, but I am telling you, that you do. I guarantee it, just stop and think about it.
I'm not here to judge you, and trust me when I say that reading this book will help you realize that even more. But I am here to say that I am not going to stop writing, and reading, and trying to understand how we can heal this nation, and the world. WE have to focus on healing. We have to focus on understanding and loving.
I'm thankful for where I am now, and where I came from. I'm thankful that I am not just stuck in the same place that I was as a high school and college student who thought she should judge everyone. I am thankful for moments of deep contemplation to help me understand my role, then and now.
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