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We are living on stolen land.

McKayla Milam,
Powder Springs, GA

The six words that I chose was to remind people, including myself, that everyday we live our lives on land that never initially belonged to us. Therefore, we are all immigrants except for those that are Native Americans. I try to keep them in mind more often and not just around Thanksgiving like the rest of society does. I cannot imagine how they must feel on a daily basis or what they go through having to be the minority on land that was theirs to begin with.

That girl spat in my eye.

Caprice Becker,
Manhattan, KS.

I was in High School in a very small town of about 1300 mostly descended from German immigrants in the 1870s, all white (except for the one Korean who had been adopted by a local family when she was a toddler) in the early 70’s. All the surrounding communities in Central Kansas were essentially of the same make up with the possible exception of the European country of origin. Most of us had never encountered a person who wasn’t of European descent.

State High School Music festival was always held in a Wichita high school. As some of us were walking the hallways between our performances we approached a small group of Black girls walking towards us. I stared at them. As the groups passed, I felt a glob of moisture in my eye. By the time I figured out what had happened we were well past the other group. This is the first time I have told anyone, including the girls I was with.

Over the years the incident has occasionally returned to my mind. We were both being very typical of our cultures. My father was blatantly racist, I was trying not to be. The sight of the tall girl with a wide Afro mesmerized me. My only experience with such a sight was on television. Her experience with white people staring was likely always a challenge or threat.

The memory of the incident is a reminder that it’s easy to be racist without realizing what one is doing. I’m not justifying the girl’s response to me. It is NOT okay to spit in someone’s eye. Even so, her action helped me, and still helps me, to see who I am and who I really want to be.

Who are you? Papers? Go home!

Nicholas Cappella,
Denver, CO.

If someone in the United States of America doesn’t have official documentation to prove they are a citizen, they aren’t considered part of our society by everyone. These people (typically immigrants) don’t always feel like they have an identity or are forced into not having one by the environment they’re in. Without papers, people are in risk or being deported or discriminated against.

I’m not proud of being a WASP.

Nancy MacLeod,
Philo, CA.

I have ancestors that came to America in 1630- among the 1st to take advantage of the indigenous people. What is to be proud of, is how your family lived, how you live. I can be proud of my family because they were hard working and honest- but were they compassionate and wise? Did they believe in equality for all? Or did they believe in making money at the expense of others? Those things I don’t know. But I can be confident in my own life that those are driving factors for me. As for fearing “the other”- immigrants, people of whatever race- those fears are false. It is not immigrants, or people of some other color that are making it “hard” on “white American males”. It’s our ever-more elite law makers who allow corporations to expand exponentially until only 8 men in the world own as much wealth as the poorest half- 3.5 BILLION- of the world’s population! The “powers-that-be” are very good at obfuscating the real reasons for peoples’ angst and struggle, making it seem like the “others” are making it harder for them, but the reality is we need to re-do our laws- like Citizens United; like anti-monopoly laws that have been eviscerated and/or not enforced; like the removal of Glass-Stiegal; like voting laws and educational laws and redlining and drug laws and all the other unfair laws our government has in place- they try to keep us, “the masses”, from realizing the truth: We all may look different, but we are all one family- the family of humanity! (I don’t think government is bad- just some of the people who are controlling it…but that’s another talk…)

Multi-Racial means having a fluid Identity

Jesse Ponnambalam,
Bolingbrook, IL.

When I see most of the people I know; they all somewhat fit into a specific group. Some may identify as a “skater”, a “Anime Nerd”, a Brony, a “Jock” a “set specific identity here” kind of mold. Now I know that people have more than one Identity, But I never really fit into one Identity. What I mean is that My Identity does not seem to fit into any specific mold, and when it did, it quickly changed. I think this Phenomenon, though it exists in everyone, is extreme in me because of my lived experiences in being Multi Racial, Multi-cultural, and my Dad being a war refugee from Shri Lanka twice, and my mom Being raised in America by family that came from overseas from Germany and Italy.
To start off, my dad was born into an upper-class Tamil home. He lived life comfortably as a Christian, Tamil within a Sinhalese, Buddhist nation. This changed when civil unrest started between the Singhalese people and my dad’s people, the Tamil’s. At the age of twelve my dad’s family fled the country to live in Zambia. My Dad then went to the only college in Zambia and graduated as one of the top ten in his field of study. My Dad then moved back to Shri Lanka where things were more volatile than before. His dorm ended up being burned down and people were after his life due to his ethnicity. My dad then moved to the united states and met my mom, when they were at the University of Bridgeport.
Now my mom also had an interesting life. She lived with cousins who were immigrants from Germany, and Italy. She spent a lot of time with my great uncle Carmen, who was ex Mafia and other relatives from Germany. My mom was also living in poverty with an alcoholic dad and later an alcoholic step dad. But all in hall he was surrounded by many immigrant family members that complicated her identity.
Now One might think that my family discarded some of their traditions and cultural norms, but not my family. They just sort of combined cultures. My family gave me a European/ American name and gave my sister and little brother Tamil type names. But that wasn’t all, the cuisine in my family was mixed. I ate things from American food, to Italian, to south Indian food, even other foods that weren’t linked to our heritage. I lived with my mom using some German and Italian language and my dad using Tamil language. my life at home was much different than any of my other relatives, a very different from the normal culture that I would see at my friends’ houses and at school. Now other things happened, such as my families S.E.S changed from upper class to upper middle, to middle, to no income, Poverty, to working poor. Which also affected the people I was hanging out with in my childhood.
This affected me in many ways, I became interested in many things, branched into many hobbies, met people from many backgrounds different than mine, and sort of adapted to all of them. I kind of have an interest in almost everything. Especially things that I see as different than what I grew up in. I Identify as a skate boarder, football player, a martial artist, an Anime Nerd, a soccer player, a poet, a feminist and much more. In a sense, I absorb bits from every group I have encountered, and even more I am attracted to these differences, if it’s something I am foreign to I want to learn about it. All in all; my life experiences and my parents life experiences have played a major factor in why I have a fluid identity, and I am fortunate to have had such an upbringing.

Undocumented immigrants need representation in court

Marty Rosenbluth
Hillsborough, NC

It is a little known fact, but people in deportation proceedings are not entitled to an attorney if they can’t afford one. Spend a day in any immigration court in the country and you can see the effects. Even though the consequences are very serious, in that people can be deported, the majority of people are left to represent themselves.

I think I am becoming racist

A.,
USA.

I work in an area with a lot of Hispanic or Latino immigrants from different places. I have not had many good experiences with them. For awhile I just tried to excuse their behavior as not knowing or understanding the cultural differences but it’s getting harder. Before I continue, yes I know there are good people and bad people everywhere and in every race. But the stealing, the letting kids run in the parking lot, the leaving stuff on the ground on purpose, the bad hygiene — it all gets to me. One moral I hold dearly is respect and bottom line is for whatever reason the overwhelming majority of them do not show it. It’s not just one race or one family but I’d say 95% of them in this area. The few good ones remind me that it is never a whole race but I feel myself becone more prejudiced and hateful. However in the meantime I still treat them with respect, be kind to their children and help them in any way I can like any other customer. What can I do to stop myself from feeling this way?

I Am Because We Are Micronesians!

000_0051Vid Raatior,
Hilo, HI.

Being a Micronesian in America is as much my personal journey as it is a communal opportunity for common advancement. My success is rooted in the degree to which I help my brothers and sisters succeed in their journeys. How we succeed as a people to overcome negative stereotypes and prejudice as the newest immigrants, legal as we are by virtue of our compact of free association treaty with the united states, depends on how much we pull together to correct the wrongs, bridge the resource gaps, educate others of our uniqueness, support the needy among us, and above all be ambassadors of our islands, our people, our values. I am because we are!

Why can’t I like this too?

CutieAbigail Finn Singer,
New York City, NY.

Being white, I feel uncultured. There is nothing special about where I’m from. My great-grandparents were immigrants, from a place they weren’t really from. They came from Poland, but don’t qualify as Polish. I have nothing behind me. Not a custom, not a community. I feel like I’m almost automatically being racist if I say something about race because I’m white, and even though I am constantly stereotyped and prejudiced by people, it doesn’t count as racism because I am white, which is “highest” in terms of race. I also love Haiti; and Haitian music, and head wraps, and certain clothes! But whenever I associate myself with any of that, I’m being racist because I’m white. I never try to be racist. I just try to enjoy myself. But it doesn’t matter, I’m just like the rest of white people; scum.

I am, am I, truly Canadian?

Yosh Kasuga,
Canada.

Canada has the Charter of Rights and Freedoms and embraces multiculturalism on the surface and yet I wonder why as someone born in Canada…I don’t always feel as Canadian as the white Canadian. Why do people ask me where I am from? or where my parents are from? …really from? While no one asks my white friends the same question.

If culture evolves, as I believe it does… my question is when do my parent’s ethnic customs and other customs of other ethnicities become accepted as part of Canadian culture…or will Canadian culture only be associated with first immigrants of French and English origin?
If I don’t enjoy Hockey, Poutine, beaver tails or maple Syrup…does that make me less Canadian?

Can We All Just Get Along!?

Bryan Quevedo
Moreno Valley, CA
California Baptist University

It was not until taking CBU HIS311 class that I have learned a lot about race and how some people are completely ignorant to what has happened in American history. The other day I walked into a grocery store to hear a cashier argue with a black male about who knows what and he stated, “its because I’m black”. I kept walking because I really did not care much for the conversation but it did make me think a little. One of the most upsetting things is to think that an individual (parse a black individual), thinks that they were the only one that was treated badly in history.

After taking this class in Cal Baptist University, I have learned that most minorities have suffered a lot at one point or another. Many races like the Irish, Jews, Japanese, Chinese, Indians and other kinds of races have suffered in America at one point or another. People who shout things like that give me the notion that they are ignorant to culture and history. America was built by immigrants and could not be done without them because they made this country what it is today. If people were blind they would not be able to tell what races are. In addition to that, most races are now mixed with other races. There will be some type of decent that is in their blood line that carries other descents that that they may not know about.

The skin color or features on an individual does not define who they are. There are diverse cultures that have mixed; providing another individual with separate beliefs. We should all get along with each other because we are all children under God; we are all brothers and sisters. Matthew 12:48-50 ESV states, “But he replied to the man who told him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he said, “Here are my mother and my brothers! For whoever does the will of my Father in heaven is my brother and sister and mother.””

Brown eggs. White eggs. Same omlet.

Peter Denzin,
Greeley, CO.

Since retirement, I’ve taught English as a Second Language classes for 11 years. My classes are made up of immigrants and refugees of all colors and faiths from all parts of the globe speaking a variety of native languages. In my classroom, we are a learning community of love and mutual respect. My students are more my family than my real family. Today’s immigrants are just like my European grandparents were. People are people. It’s as simple as that.

Scotch tape no longer clings here.

Malcolm-MacKenzie1Malcolm Ian Mackenzie,
Naples, NY.

My mom and Dad immigrated from Canada in the early fifties with two children Canadian-born and eleven were born in the states. Growing we had a strong family identity as Canadians, but knew we also had Scottish roots through our dad’s family. My Mom’s family were Anglo-French Canadians, with an Irish twist. Upon my father’s death five years ago, I was reviewing legal papers and read through his birth certificate from 1921. It struck me when it said of his mother and father’s ancestory, Race; Scotch. To think that in 1921 a birth certificate would refer to the Scotch as a race astounded me. It illustrated how quickly our impressions of culture and ethnicity and national heritage can change. I have always been a bit puzzled by the social acceptance of calling Scotch tape “Scotch, “when it’s origin is derogatory slang depicting a tight-fisted, perhaps thrifty people. Most people do not realize today. I only recognize it because of my interest in words and their meaning, direct, implied, or acquired. This especially hit home to me a few years ago when President Obama was quoted in a newspaper article as stating that someone wanted to get off “Scot-free.”” No editorial response was uttered by the press or the readership. This would not be the case had he referred to another ethnic/national/racial group with such an offhand, careless, and socially accepted comment. This is the background of my six-word submission. The subliminal message of Scotch tape goes by us all cloaked in a handsome tartan.

Another six-word reflection from my past is from my family’s move to Rochester, New York as an eleven-year-old in 1965. After a casual introduction to a new neighbor boy a few years older than I, he stated to me upon hearing of our large family, “Twelve kids, you must be Catholic.”” It was news to me that that was the basis of my Catholic upbringing. (At any rate my parents celebrated their love with a thirteenth child the following year!) Years later I slowly realized he was a WASP from newspaper articles that I read.

We are all threads in the same fabric, part of the human cloak. At times we play a sleeve, at times a collar, and at others we are the tail. Time calls us into and out of fashion, sometimes very purposefully and at others strictly by happenstance and casual passing.

At any rate the slang use of Scotch doesn’t cling to this Malcolm.

Malcolm MacKenzie

I’m not part of the solution.

Marie Henehan,
Sidney, IL.

I’m European American Vietnam generation female grandchild of immigrants. I have not ever been an activist. If all white people were like me, blacks would not have such serious problems. So with a pat on my back, I have been complacent and uninvolved, safe in my well-off white bubble. _I’m_ not a racist. I am also not at risk of being hurt by racism. I do not have to personally mourn Michael Brown or others. But I am now enraged, appalled, and feeling distressed and helpless in the face of these shootings. I started wondering why white people are not complaining about police treatment of blacks with the shooting of Kiwane Carrington and evidence of racial profiling in police stopping cars in Champaign Illinois. It shouldn’t be just blacks who are appalled – everyone should be appalled. I understand the threat to cops and the horror of cop-killers, but if it is easier for “you” to shoot a black male than another type of person, then “you” have to proactively figure out what to do about that. (And that “you” includes me.) That’s why I am upset that I am not part of the solution.

My heritage is Irish, not white.

S. Aleana,
Ocala, FL.

I did not come from a privileged white family. My family line on all sides traces back to the early 1900’s. They were poor Irish immigrants. I have been told I do not understand how minorities feel because I am white and privileged. I have never been handed anything in life, not even from my parents that abandoned me when I was 17. I am not rich, but I make ends meet. If this is what privileged is, then I would rather not be.

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