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Blending traditions from my strong heritages.

Rebecca,
Battle Creek, MI

I’m very mixed — Japanese, Irish, Indian, and Romani — but most people just assume I’m a regular white girl in the U.S. There’s obviously nothing wrong with being white, but when I tell people what I’m mixed with, they usually don’t believe me. A lot of people ask, “What are you?” meaning what I’m mixed with or if I’m “just white.” What do you all think?

Jokes Can Be Just As Harmful

Skyla Gochenour,
8th Grade Holland New Tech High School,
Holland, MI.

Every day there are supposed “jokes” batted back and forth between man every day. While many of these jokes are seemingly harmless, they can really hurt people. Especially people like me. Since I have lighter skin it is impossible to tell that I am Mexican, with the only thing to prove it being several of my other family members. I do not speak Spanish, I do not like tacos, and I certainly do not fit the Mexican stereotype at all. Due to my paler skin, people may say a joke or two directed towards Mexicans unknowingly, or in even more serious cases- racial remarks. When I hear this, I always feel upset, they are insulting my mom, my grandma, my grandpa, my cousins and even my best friends. While you would expect them to fall silent in guilt after I tell them that I am Mexican many people do the opposite. A common response would be “Good, I needed someone to mow my lawn.” or, “So you like Tacos?” I have had to deal with this for my entire life and I am sick and tired of it. Even if it may be a “joke”, it is not funny at all. We don’t all eat tacos, we won’t mow your lawns for free, we are not all illegal immigrants. We are all people, we have hobbies, interest, and everything you have. So what makes us so different?

#HollandNewTech

Irish at Looks, American by Heart

Nevaehlee Crockett,
Grand Blanc, MI

p>I am fully American ethnically, and am White by race. Oftentimes, I joke about being Irish descendant due to my ginger colored hair, and my facial features common in Irish ethnicities. Oftentimes, I overlook my American culture, as I am the dominant group in society. However comparing other cultures to my own, I realize that it differers quite a bit, even if those differences I think are often just traditional “Friday night football” American activities.

Native blood and how I feel

Tylor Newman,
48439, MI

I am white and native American
I embrace the native American side of my family by hunting taking care of the forest and other things such as that I believe in Egyptian native American greek roman gods i listen to basically all music my last name is Newman

Native blood and how I feel
My race and ethnicity has affected me positively and negatively a lot of people don’t believe I’m native American because I’m white and a lot of darker people don’t like me because I’m white
The way my race and ethnicity has affected me has been positive and negative in a lot of different ways during my life in school situations and professional situations and because i appear white i feel like i get treated differently in a better way based on my other skin colored peers in my life and its extremely unfair

You’re too pretty to be black.

668Brandi N. Scarlett,
Lansing, MI.

When people ask me what ethnicity I am, I get excited. I am so proud to be mixed race. My mother is white and First Nations, and my father is Jamaican. However, I always make sure to tell people no matter WHAT I am, I identify as being black. I interact with the world as a young black woman. That is how society treats me and I am not ashamed to embrace that.

No, I’m “really” from New York.

Kate Lee van Loveren,
Ann Arbor, MI.

I was born in New York, grew up in New York, and live in New York (when I’m not at school). I’m of half Chinese and half Dutch descent, but for some people that registers into me not being American for some reason. Just by looking at me, people will ask where I’m from. I will say New York and ask where they are from, knowing the question they’re going to ask next. Like expected, they ask where I’m REALLY from because I must have been lying to them the first time. I’m REALLY from New York. Did you know that people from other countries can immigrate into the United States and live in America and raise families in America and have American citizenship and be AMERICAN? Fascinating, I know.

Born Norwegian, Raised American, not illegal

Linda Kristensen,
Grand Rapids, MI.

I am writing this for my daughter who is 34 with Autism. She became my daughter in 1980 when I was living in Norway. We returned to the USA in 1983 but my daughter even after 30 years is still not an American citizen. Here’s part of her story….

My oldest daughter, Maigunn was born on January 10, 1979 in Hammerfest, Norway (the northern-most city in the world). When Maigunn was 5 months old, she was sent to an orphanage across the county in a town called Vadso near the Russian border. There she remained until my now ex-husband and I received her at 23 months as a foster child. We were told that she was stiff like a doll and may be mentally retarded but the staff also thought it might be just the orphanage environment. Norway like most “Western” cultures believes that children should be raised in a home and not an institution. Most of the orphanages in Norway have only severe mentally impaired children with very strange behaviors. The staff felt that if Maigunn were part of a family that maybe she would be normal once she wasn’t exposed to these behaviors. When the woman in charge of adoption in northern Norway called and requested that we come to Vadso and see Maigunn; I was visiting my family in the USA; not having been back for 3 years. So my ex-husband went alone to see this little girl. When he arrived, he immediately fell for this little toddler, called me and it was agreed that we would take her. She would be our “long-term” foster daughter, just like an adoption. (This has come back to haunt us even today.)

So my mother and I began buying clothes, shoes, toys and other toddler supplies. I sent several boxes to Norway, prior to my return and remember that my ex-husband was in tears upon opening them.

My first impression of Maigunn when they brought her for a visit was that she was blind. She looked straight ahead with no eye contact. The other thing I noticed was that she loved spinning objects. (These are two of the classic signs of Autism) At the time if someone had said, “Do you think she has Autism?” I would have responded with “What’s that?” Even as a physical therapist, I had no exposure to this disability and very little was known and there were very few treatment options.
Maigunn at 2 years had no language, had just begun to walk so she had that abducted or teetering gait that is so typical in babies just starting out on their own feet. So the first task was to get language. I don’t know why but it seemed natural and was an international word so we started with, “Baby”. Phonetically and developmentally, I think “B” is an easier consonant to say than many other consonants. Well it took 9 months where she studied our mouths and felt our lips with such intensity that you’d have thought she was discovering the contents of the Rosetta stone. I remember one morning waking up to Maigunn’s chatter of saying and half singing “Hakke” which is Norwegian for chin. It must have stimulated me for after that I began singing songs to Maigunn with the word “Baby” in them; everything from “Rock-a-bye Baby to “I love you and don’t you forget it, Baby”.
As a physical therapist, I knew that we only had a limited amount of time to catch up. When she was almost 3 years old, she was evaluated at Mary Free Bed Rehabilitation Center. At that time, she was 1 ½ years behind and the gap would only increase if she couldn’t make significant gains in a short time.
The summer of 1982 was a turning point in our lives. My mother was very sick in the hospital with hepatitis, and Norway had no services for Maigunn until age 7; so we decided to return to the USA. Even then it took another 2 years until she was diagnosed with Autism and placed in special education through the public school system.

The negatives have been numerous.
Like the first pediatrician we encountered in the U.S. who upon doing a preschool check-up, found that Maigunn was in the 75 percentile for height and weight and told us that we should consider institutionalization since she was bigger than most kids her own age and therefore could be dangerous to the other children.
Like the time at a playground when a mother hit Maigunn for choking her child in the same manner her daughter had just done to Maigunn. Unfortunately Maigunn thought the other child was playing a game with her and didn’t understand that the little girl was being mean to her.
Like the children who chased Maigunn on the way to her school bus stop, so that she ran out into the street, almost got hit by a car and lost her new pair of glasses. And when I tried to get the school to change the bus stop just three blocks down the street, they refused.
Like the neighbor children at the end of the block who chased and teased Maigunn every time she road her bike past their house until she got wise and began taking an alternative route which of course was on a busy street.
Like the teacher who misplaced Maigunn’s lunch money envelope on her messy desk and blamed Maigunn for being forgetful (the underlying idea was that she was handicapped and therefore couldn’t remember her lunch money). Only later to find out that the lunch money was on her desk after all. However the Principal did call and ask if Maigunn wanted a formal apology. Of course she didn’t since Maigunn just doesn’t hold grudges.
Like at the Middle School Formal Dance where a bunch of students egged one of their group to ask Maigunn for a dance. He then made faces behind her back the whole time, while I stood by watching, debating whether or not to step in and deciding that these things are going to happen. But once again thanking god for Autism since she never realized that they were mocking her.
Like spending time and money to have Maigunn trained to take the city bus only for the bus system to change the bus route numbers the following year so she ended up taking bus # 5 which instead of going to our neighborhood, now went to the airport. So rather than getting home at 4:30, we got a call at 6:30 that the bus driver left her at a gas station 3 miles from our home. (Of course from 4:30 until 6:30, I had been driving around frantically looking for her.)
Like the time a boy made sexual advances towards her after she was done with a running workout at a high school track. But again she was saved by her ability to run away and fast.
Like the neurologist who sees her briefly, diagnoses her with schizophrenia and negates all the current literature and research on Autism even though as a parent, I have done more reading and researching on the topic than he’ll ever do in his lifetime. But still unwilling to listen to me.

But there have been positives
When I went to the first school Christmas pageant that Maigunn was in and watched as the children marched in line onto the stage. Then it was Maigunn’s turn to go on stage with the other students. She stopped at the entrance, stared out in to the audience and didn’t move until the student before her came back, took her by the hand and led her to her place. When they sang she stepped forward and sang with her whole heart. At the end of the performance she mimicked the audience and clapped her hands along with them. Friends who knew Maigunn and me looked my way and smiled. It was one of those priceless moments that I wouldn’t have missed for the world.
When the Brownie and Girl Scout leader, Sharon, had no qualms about including Maigunn in their troop and treated Maigunn like one of the girls. And Maigunn wanting to be just like the other girls was the first one to approach the principal and sell a box of cookies.
When her piano teacher, Maxine, was not a stickler for learning how to read the notes but let her enjoy the beauty of playing the music. Maigunn plays the piano by ear.
When my daughter says; “Mom you need a hug” when she really means, “I need a hug.” And realizing that we conquered the sense of Touch, which is extremely difficult for people with Autism.
When she succeeded not only in being on the High School Cross-Country and Track teams. But by being able to participate as a regular student in a regular Ed sport and achieving MVP (Most-Valuable Player) Junior and Senior years for Track and received “All-City” for Cross-Country her Senior year. She accomplished what most kids with Autism rarely get: the acceptance and respect of regular Ed students as one of them.
When one of the girls who, along with her friends, mocked Maigunn behind her back at the Middle School dance, now admired her in High School for her running ability since she could never run as fast as Maigunn even though she was not handicapped.
When at a track meet, a parent from another high school came up to me and told me that my daughter was an inspiration to their team. We had talked a year or two before about my daughter and her handicapped condition and he and his team had watched her develop over the years and used her as role model for their team.
When I know that living and raising Maigunn has made me grow both personally and professionally. I’ve become a more realistic therapist and now have more empathy with my patients and their families.
When I remember the wisdom, Maigunn has expressed. Like the time I asked her during her freshman year in high school if she wished that she didn’t have Autism and she replied that she thought it was part of her. Later in her junior year her response was that she wished that she wasn’t Autistic. And now she tells me that she has to get use to this Autism.

Then there are the challenges.
Such as the years of being on the Parent Advisory Committee for Special Education in the Public Schools then on the board for the local Autism Society and finally on the state Autism board.
Such as my many job changes to accommodate my children’s needs
Such as the numerous letters of thanks and concern sent out to try to get better understanding by the public and the politicians.
Such as the loss of a marriage
Such as the hours of running with my daughter so that she would be familiar with the cross-country running courses
Such as the hours of job coaching so that she wouldn’t loose her job while she was going through a rough time.
Such as taking the chance in signing up Maigunn with the G.R. Jaycees and watching her be able to be part of a group where she is not ridiculed for being handicapped.
Such as attempting to set up private housing for my daughter so that she is in a safe and secure environment before I die. Only to find that many parents of handicapped older children do not want to talk about it. And that they are content with letting the state take over when they die and not realizing how devastating their death and change in housing will be on their adult child.
Such as the wish that we as a society would be more handicap accepting. Knowing that most of my friends would not want their sons to date my daughter. And many of my friends would not consider living in a house with a ramp even if it were aesthetically pleasing.
And thanking God for good professionals who have an uplifting approach to disability and see that they have rare talents that the rest of us do not.

And finally, the Reward
When my daughter says: “Mom, you’re the best mom this girl ever had.”

Small town girl, big world problems.

Michaela Ford,
Cheboygan, MI

I am just a small-town girl that went to a small school with a graduating class of fourteen kids. Having a small school like this has amounted to great struggles in the real “big” world. Many things were lost throughout the education and crucial learning years, resulting in lifelong struggles.

Colorblind childhood, learned to see.

Kira Miller,
Petoskey, MI

Growing up in a predominantly white town with a mixed-race best friend, I initially didn’t think much about race. My friend and I were just kids, and race didn’t seem to matter. As we grew older, however, I started to notice the subtle and sometimes overt ways race affected our experiences. This friendship has been a constant source of learning for me, opening my eyes to the realities of race and racism in our society.

My color does not define me

Ryan williams,
Grand Blanc, MI

As a black man in America I am expected to be multiple things.
Unsophisticated, not smart, ghetto, unprofessional and unethical.
But this isn’t the case with me as i am often referred to as well-spoken
Quiet and well-mannered. My race gives me character along with the historical background and people I hang around, but my color and stereotypes of my people do not define me and never have. Based on my appearance I am not the character you may think I am as with my unkempt hair and urban clothes you see people of my appearance in stories or on the news all the time. I am just as much a civilian and citizen as anyone else so this does not define me. I am culture appropriate and well behaved so I hate that the stereotypes can ruin my image. I hate that I have to be fearful of where I am or where I go because somebody may perceive me as something I am not and unlawful and unjustified actions may take place. I love my life as much as the next person and the fact that I have to fear for it upsets me in a way unimaginable.
I try to make myself as socially acceptable as I can in the eyes of others but if people don’t like what comes with me then I don’t care for them. My life is just as important as anybody else and the fact that things can happen to me because of color and race scares me. The food i eat aren’t really related to my race along with the fact that I am not that racially cultured but I still have things that give me life.

“Hate is easy, love takes courage.”

Amy Slater,
Boyne City, MI

This quote by Hannah Harrington has always been one of my favorites. It really is easy to choose hate. I see and hear more negativity than positivity around me. Choosing to love takes more work. It means branching out and feeling a little vulnerable. But what if everyone chose to love instead of hate? Could this world be a better place if we all chose love, kindness, and compassion?

Workplace became overwhelmingly Black. A blessing.

Rachel Forester,
Attica, MI

For almost my whole work life, I worked as clerical help in a fairly large hospital Emergency Room. I held several different positions over the years. When I started there in my 20s most of the employees were white like me. By the time I hit my 60s the staff and the clientele were majority Black. I got along okay with my coworkers and although I am not especially gregarious I made friends. Then a few years shy of my retirement age my position was eliminated. Knowing I wasn’t really ready to retire (financially) my boss slotted me into an open position as the Greeter on the midnight shift. I went from a self directed paper pushing job in the back room to sitting at a prominent desk at the front of the waiting room for 12 hrs a shift. After the security screener (and then later on the Covid screener) I was the first person who saw every single sick person (and their relatives and their visitors) as they walked in. I had to ask them questions they mostly didn’t want to answer and run interference for the triage nurse when they were already busy with a patient and try to make excuses when the patient’s were forced to wait (sometimes hours on a busy night) to be admitted to the treatment area. It was an Emergency Room and even though most of our patients were not seriously ill (although some were) they were there for our help and, as you can imagine it could be a very stressful situation. Every night I sat down at my desk and looked out at a sea of Black faces. To make an already too long story short, I just want to say that all of this turned out to be a blessing to me. I really internalized what had merely given lip service to before: that people are essentially all alike. Even if the surface differences seem glaring, if you take the time to be honest with them and yourself and put yourself in their shoes you can see their point of view. It can be exhausting doing that, especially if someone is angry with you, anxious, feeling ill. Often you can see that because you’re white they think you’re not treating them fairly, or respectfully or taking their symptoms seriously. Sometimes you want to protest that that’s not so. But if you take some time to think about it you understand where they’re coming from. And, and this took a lot of uncomfortable reflection on my part, sometimes you admit to yourself that they were right. I was being officious, I was being less than sympathetic or helpful, I was indulging my knee jerk reactions to people who don’t look like me. I felt ashamed as I began to realize that about myself but I like to think I continued to work to improve my behavior. ANYWAY, as I said, I realized after a few years in this particular position (I am 2 yrs retired now) that I had been given the great gift or learning something about other people I should have always known and some unpleasant but true things about myself that allowed me to grow as a person. I really don’t see how white people are going to learn this lesson unless they are exposed to people who are (supposedly) different from them. And, even then, you have to be able to set aside your fears and prejudices (over and over again) and be open to understanding that people are just people. They want to be safe, fed, respected, heard – and they are willing to give as good as they get. Sorry I went on so long.

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