Today was a slow day at work. This afternoon one of our international students, a young man from Saudi Arabia, wandered into my office with some questions about his transcript. We sorted that out and started talking about his school back home, his experiences, Islam in general and for him personally. I actually have no idea how we got around to the topics that we did. I think it started with a discussion of the Arabic calendar, because I had to know what year he took chemistry and 1408 didn't mean much to me. We actually looked up pictures of the pilgrimage to Mecca, and the mosque at Medina so he could illustrate some of his descriptions.
I had the courage to ask if it was hard being a Saudi Arabian in the U.S., you know with all the people with fear and hard feelings. He told me that Americans are mostly nice, that we smile a lot, and that the ones who aren't nice are ignorant and afraid. He even said that he understood why they were afraid, but it bothered him to be lumped in with Saddam and Bin Laden. He gave me an insiders view of how offensive the groups are to Muslims. He counted off the ways the extremists go against the teachings of Mohammad and stressed that the suicide bombers will not be finding themselves in Heaven anytime soon. This student was glad to be in the U.S., but loves his home country and is looking forward to returning and serving his King with his degree (he is on a full scholarship from the monarchy). I was repeatedly amazed by his resilience and open, honest, dialogue, which largely left me feeling uncultured and occasionally at a loss for words.
It was a very different direction that I usually lead conversations, definitely into the 'danger zone', but it was really amazing. I can't capture everything here, but after he left my office I realized that despite all my world travel, my liberal views and my position on a multi-cultural campus brimming with events, I am still very much the white girl comfortable in my white world. I am largely ignorant of the specifics of religions beyond my own discarded Christianity. I have few friends, fewer that look or think different from me. I rarely venture into situations where I might say the wrong thing or not know the proper way to act. I want more than that for Lawrence, and for myself.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Family
I've just returned from a weeklong visit to family in Michigan. The main reason was for a surprise 60th Wedding Anniversary party for my grandparents.
It was a troubling visit. I no longer really 'know' any of the family. The other cousin who has moved out of state has stayed much more connected than I have. As a child I always secretly felt that perhaps I was a witness protection baby, sent away from my real family. I never felt any special bond with my parents. I didn't hate them or anything, we all just coexisted in the same space, they supported me and were interested in what I was doing. Self-absorbed as most children are, I never considered my parents as people.
Then I moved away. I joined the military. I stayed away years at a time. It honestly never really bothered me that I rarely saw my family. We share a past and genetics (aparently that whole witness protection dream was just that) but have nothing in common. I admit to wondering "WTF?" about a dozen times a day during my trip. Values, experiences, goals and dreams, you name it, I am totally disconnected from them.
Now, I know they made me who I am. I look creepily like my mom did at my age, the way I approach projects and arguments is definitely in line with the must-have-drama nature that permeated the party itself. But I feel bad for thinking that perhaps I have outgrown my family. I am no longer comfortable in their presence with their comments about people of color (although their descriptions are less PC), their ideas that potatoes are vegetables, and their acceptance of things like non-functional sinks and roofs covered in tarps.
And so, like the coward I am I flew back home and left Lawrence to visit for 10 days...better him than me. I'll pay for counseling later.
It was a troubling visit. I no longer really 'know' any of the family. The other cousin who has moved out of state has stayed much more connected than I have. As a child I always secretly felt that perhaps I was a witness protection baby, sent away from my real family. I never felt any special bond with my parents. I didn't hate them or anything, we all just coexisted in the same space, they supported me and were interested in what I was doing. Self-absorbed as most children are, I never considered my parents as people.
Then I moved away. I joined the military. I stayed away years at a time. It honestly never really bothered me that I rarely saw my family. We share a past and genetics (aparently that whole witness protection dream was just that) but have nothing in common. I admit to wondering "WTF?" about a dozen times a day during my trip. Values, experiences, goals and dreams, you name it, I am totally disconnected from them.
Now, I know they made me who I am. I look creepily like my mom did at my age, the way I approach projects and arguments is definitely in line with the must-have-drama nature that permeated the party itself. But I feel bad for thinking that perhaps I have outgrown my family. I am no longer comfortable in their presence with their comments about people of color (although their descriptions are less PC), their ideas that potatoes are vegetables, and their acceptance of things like non-functional sinks and roofs covered in tarps.
And so, like the coward I am I flew back home and left Lawrence to visit for 10 days...better him than me. I'll pay for counseling later.
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