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You’re not from here, are you?

Rachel Butler,
Japan.

I’m from Virginia, from a primarily white town. I went to a pretty white high school, but had a mixed group of friends all the same. I went to the University of Nebraska, which isn’t known for any great ethnic diversity, but it was welcoming to all. I was a collegiate track and field athlete and therefore tended to be surrounded by a mixture of races, which always seemed completely natural to me. Then, a little over a year ago, I came to Japan.
Never before had I stood out so much. Not even in high school when I had flaming red hair! I couldn’t (and still can’t) go to the supermarket without someone commenting on the size of my face (it’s small), the length of my legs (they are long), or the whiteness of my skin (I’m pasty). It was the strangest feeling to be so noticed.

When I went back to the US to visit my family, I was almost disappointed because I was just “regular” again. At the same time, I realized that I always sort of looked at other people in the US as American. I think perhaps most of us do. Because it’s such a diverse country, I think we usually assume a few things when we see first someone, even if they look a lot different from ourselves: 1) They speak English, 2) they have lived in the US forever and 3) probably so did their grandparents. I actually feel like these are complimentary assumptions because they decrease the barriers between us. In Japan, it’s generally assumed that anyone who doesn’t look Japanese probably can’t speak Japanese, thus throwing up a barrier before even speaking to the person. It will probably always be impossible for me to blend in, even if I want to.
I like that it’s hard to put a single face on “American.” We’re lots of colors, lots of sizes, and speak lots of languages. Any face can be American, and that’s something of which we should be proud.

Celtic mutt…happens to be white.

Jenn Jackson,
Canada.

I grew up in surroundings that were predominantly white, wanting to learn more about other cultures. I moved to an urban center and felt myself stuck; clumsy in the navigation of culturally diverse waters: focusing on differences, as opposed to similarities. It’s taken a long time, a lot of diversity training and many experiences that make me put my face in my hands and shake my head in retrospect. I will, no doubt, add a few more such experiences before the end of my life and welcome the learning that comes along with it. I suppose the thing that I hits me most acutely are the people who were party to some of these conversations, and still accepted me after the fact, recognizing that I was not being intentionally bias or intolerant…just human, flawed and deserving of another opportunity to see each other for more than our differing racial backgrounds.

I was bussed. I was scarred.

Andrea Stewart,
Brooklyn, NY.

When I was in third grade I was bussed from the predominantly white side of town to the predominantly black side of town for elementary school. I had had black friends in my former school, but the new school was mostly black and I had a black teacher. For once I was in the minority. Unfortunately, my teacher made a point of letting me know that OFTEN. I was no one special to her. In fact on Valentine’s Day she gave candy to everyone in the class but me. That and other incidences with her made that the worst year of my education, when it could have been an enlightening year. She scarred me.

It’s not racist, it’s segregated here.

Amanda Rae,
Houghton, MI.

I go to college in a very predominantly white city at the northern tip of Michigan. Here the student population is massively more diverse than the town around it. There are few black people but many Chinese and Indian students. There are no rules separating the different groups but we see little mixing. Each area of the library, groups on campus, or even parts of buildings are common for separate races. Here there is less outward racism than the systematic. There is a complacency with the separation and an expectation for it.

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