In the spring of 2006, I had planned a trip to East Timor for that summer. Through a series of (un)fortunate events, I was saved from a civil war conflict and joined an amazing group of people for a project in Philly.
Looking back on that spring, a friend was fundamental to my acceptance of sadness of incapacity. Sadness because an ongoing conflict over land and water, grandchild of colonial powers, went unnoticed in American media. Incapacity because my countries, the U.S. and China, and myself could not do anything. These were not the most surprising feelings. It was what my friend Cindy said that gave me a greater realization.
After my eyes oozed out the anguish over this great disappointment (and happiness at my own safety), Cindy was quiet for a while. She turned to me, smiled, and said, “I’m glad to see you sad and struggling with your safety rather than feeling arrogant for being knowledgeable about East Timor.” I felt fire rising in me, anger at learning that it is possible for people to feel avarice of pride than sadness and guilt of inaction at such an hour.
I take great satisfaction in sharing what I learn from people, places, books, websites, etc. Education is key to building community and increasing tolerance. But since that spring, I have been very careful, having learned that my love for knowledge-sharing can be perceived as arrogance. (The irony here is that personal blogs are usually viewed as the latter.)
I do care about how others see and how to use their perception to reveal the real me. But what happens when I step out of my comfort zone, away from people used to knowledge-sharing, socioeconomic and racial diversity, and service for social justice, to…a place of homogeneity, to the Old America*? I’m learning.
So far so good(?). I watched Obama’s inauguration at this new setting. His speech gave me goosebumps. I felt like a child watching rainbows every thirty seconds. But his speech is like traveling back in time for me. I have seen the possibilities of his optimism in my communities. With this new place, I don’t know. It will take much longer than other American cities, suburbs, and small towns.
But. This week, I witnessed the inauguration of an African-American man to the highest office, in “the City upon a hill.” There was neither clapping nor cheering, but oooh there was subdued joy in quite a number – tightened fists, glistening eyes, and makeup undone.
*I wanted to say the American suburbia, but that term does not apply because suburbs can differ greatly. Also, “Old” here does not represent people’s age. It describes Sarah Palin and John McCain’s America. Their “America” is disappearing.
Image courtesy of NYTimes.
