I have found myself in search of cultural belonging. But the cultures I find my self in don’t reflect an ethnicity traceable by blood.
My mom is from Canada, my dad is from North Dakota. My maternal grandfather came over from England out of luck, having a kind rich aunt who wanted him to survive WWII. I don’t actually know when my dad’s side emigrated to the United States, but I think they came from somewhere near Germany. I’ve been meaning to ask...
I’ve been meaning to ask about a lot of things. Sometimes I do. Like last autumn, when I visited my uncle in British Columbia. We spent an evening geeking out over his copy of our family tree. We chuckled and grimaced as we googled distant ancestors and read descriptions of their dramas on Wikipedia.
Today I am thinking about my place and work in this world, and how these connect to my relationship with culture.
I want to hold a deep understanding of the history and culture of places and people I connect with. So I am making significant efforts to learn about Puerto Rico specifically and the people who live and have lived on the island. This feels important to me as I make preparations to journey there for a group service trip there this summer.
I am asking myself why I am drawn to work on this project. Why do I want to put in so much energy to bring support to a community in Puerto Rico?
Am I looking for recognition? Some semblance of “success”? Am I trying to prove something to myself? Or to others?
Perhaps.
But it also seems to me that I am seeking ways to connect my internal world -- home to Spanish words, loving beliefs, and inspiration to serve -- with an external reality of abundance and resilience that I can share with friends.
Last week I attended a conference called “In Pursuit of Puerto Rican Studies” at the University of Central Florida. I wanted to learn more about the relationship between Florida and PR, and maybe connect with some people also interested in talking about and connecting with the island. I was open to learning whatever I might be shown.
I encountered friendly people and lots of information about the history and people of Puerto Rico. I also got to talk to some great women who are passionate about using their voices to help Puerto Rico and their people. I only talked to Puerto Rican’s there - it would have been hard not to. I was definitely in the minority; I saw one other person who looked like they were also not Puerto Rican. I grew up in one of the whitest state in the nation, so this minority experience is not one I have often had.
On my bike ride back home, I couldn’t help but reflect on the internal feeling of otherness I had gotten to spend time with today. I imagine this is a feeling others have often, and I have curiously considered how someone might be feeling when I notice they are the only _____ in the room.
I felt somewhat uncomfortable and out of place at times. It felt like a fight to get myself to break the ice and connect with someone - anyone. Even though when I did people I talked to were very kind. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wasn’t always welcome in conversations. And sometimes I thought, “should I be here?”
Is belonging a privilege? I feel more like it’s a right. Innate to being human. We all need and deserve to feel safe and loved. Having the sense that others share similar experiences or perspectives and accept your differences is just one step up from having food and shelter on the hierarchy of needs.
So, why am I seeking belonging outside of my own culture? Perhaps it’s a symptom of a cultural disconnect or living in a melting pot nation all my life... maybe it’s because I grew up loving language and learning Spanish while my Canadian mother provided piano accompaniment for the Spanish mass at our church. Perhaps it’s because these latino cultures are the ones I have been exposed to and experienced positively all my life.
Rather than European culture, I have found joy in Latino music, dance, greetings and language. Meanwhile, I learned that people of my whiter complexion often brought destruction and disease to many beautiful cultures and peoples.
I resonate with welcoming, resilient people who I can communicate with and learn from. I love the energy I experience from Puerto Rican people, and many other nationalities. I don’t want to put anyone in a box. I wouldn’t say anyone is only defined by their culture. I do notice these patterns, though.
Back at the conference... I noticed that everyone could speak English, and they were, mostly. Spanish was hardly spoken during the speakers’ panels - except to relay quotes and forgotten words, both quickly translated. It seemed that in this academic and professional setting, there was an unspoken agreement to speak English. But when mingling after the panel sessions, I heard several people go straight into speaking Spanish. To me, though, English was the go-to. And I didn’t mind, but I did notice. I felt some confusion too, because I didn’t feel like I even wanted to speak Spanish - usually my favorite language to speak and practice!
During one conversation I switched to Spanish only to say “my mind is just not in Spanish today, I don’t know why!” The Puerto Rican woman I had been talking with responded with kind eyes and told me in thickly accented English that she has days like that too. Sometimes she’ll wake up and feel like her “translator is off today” and she doesn’t know why, but just accepts it and lets it be.
In this moment, I felt a sense of belonging that transcended our cultural heritages, as we shared a moment as members of the same tribe: humanity.
Emily is an energized communicator, inspired to write vulnerably about life, love, and other human experiences. She is currently coordinating a small group service trip to Caguas, Puerto Rico in support of a local community group who is cultivating welcomeness, embodying inspiration, and manifesting the resources to thrive in healthy relationship with the Earth. Learn more about Emily and the upcoming service trip at prst2019.simplesite.com
