White

Hey kids, I'm white. I'm English, Welsh, Scottish, German... really white. Maybe in the States I pride myself on the ability to develop a nice tan with little effort, but let's face it: I'm white, and will always be white.

Here's an excerpt from an email to my parents this last week:

The last few weeks have been a reality check about the very real difficulties of serving here as a white person. It's the first time my race has been something I'm forced to think about every single day, the first time being white has limited me and put me in danger, the first time I've been so aware of prejudices and stereotypes based on my skin color. It's a heavy thing, especially realizing that this is the reality of life for many of my friends in the States, and that I've been privileged never to experience it.

I will always stand out. Even if I were to live in this Walla-Walla-sized town my entire life, do all my shopping at the market, make close friendships with the locals, I would still walk down the street to a chorus of "mzungu, mzungu!" (white person, white person) every day, still pay twice as much for everything, still be a target for theft, still get lied to about everything by people looking for a soft heart and deep pockets... Even if I learn the language, the culture, adapt the style of dress, I will always be the "other" here, and that is hard.

On a somewhat more temporary note, it's been a humbling thing to find that the skills I've developed and valued so much in the States don't translate here. I'm not able to be on the worship team because all of the songs are in Swahili or Luganda, and the words are made up as they go along. My music is appreciated, but as a novelty, not as a means of deep community and fellowship as it has been.

When I go to communicate, I have to simplify my language so much to traverse the language and dialect barriers (not to mention managing completely different cultural contexts) that it's hard for me to express anything deeper than a surface-level idea. It's hard to be going through so much transition and not to be able to express what I'm feeling to the people around me. And it's hard to feel like a leader in our class, which is a position I'm in given my age and life experience compared to many of the others, when any time I speak in class, I'm met by blank stares. It seems like it doesn't matter how much I simplify and slow down, the response is generally an apologetic smile and "I'm sorry, I'm not sure we caught that."

In other words, I feel limited and sometimes even useless because of my race and cultural background, and that's a hard pill to swallow. I know I'm called here, but will I always be such an outsider?

And an excerpt from my dad's response: 

It's great to hear your thoughts and reflections-- even if they're not all pleasant. Which of course is what you'd expect, even hope for really, in the situation you've chosen... It's not supposed to be fun, only interesting.... Which doesn't preclude fun of course, and what is fun anyway?

But your realism is good to hear. The question is can you still be helpful even given all the barriers: racial, language, cultural? I'll bet the answer is at least kinda yes. And if so, what's the best way to be helpful? Do the folks (white, that is) eventually find that they can, if not fit in, at least work effectively as the outsiders they'll always be? What are the best skills to cultivate in order to be helpful?

Hopefully having a purpose can give you the occasional shot of enough energy to keep it positive. It's not about fun. But that's never been your style anyway.

Anyway no real words of wisdom here, just perseverance. You may ultimately decide the culture gap is too big, but in retrospect this is bound to be a giant life event no matter what you decide about how productive it is. I'm sympathizing here big time, but I'm jealous big time too. You're going for it. Life is too short not to, and so many folks don't realize that. There are a lot of things I'd like to go back and have another shot at-- you're in the middle of one of them. So I'm sure proud of what you're stuck in the middle of, no matter what you decide to do with it.

He says "no real wisdom here," but I beg to differ. I'm sharing both of these because I think this is such a common experience. In my words, maybe you can find something that resonates with your own feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, and frustration. And in my dad's, maybe you'll find just enough encouragement and perspective to keep you going-- I know I did.