Duplicitous or Proud?

A thought came into my mind after drafting the mission of my blog - being open to people from all cultures and writing about cross-cultural experiences. Lately I have been struggling with my feelings towards people who have knowingly or unknowingly disrespected my culture, my family, my background.

Upon hearing their words, or seeing their attitudes, I feel so frustrated. I fill with rage. I want to answer them back and scream how ignorant they are and how ashamed they must feel. And then the free associations start and my stereotypes and clusters emerge..."He said this because he is x,y,z... She mentioned that because she feels x,y,z..."

Is this justifiable when facing prejudism? Or, in coming to a too quick conclusion, am I acting just like those people who wasted some unfortunate sentences?

I guess we must take time to get to know each other and have a chance to see/show the whole person. Then the "other" vanishes...and it becomes a friend, a buddy, or someone you know.

I hate being othered, now, don't make me other you... :-P)

A view of the city left behind

Life of a writer

Death From Afar

Today my best friend's mom died. I got the message after the fact, when I was haphazardly checking my personal email at work to take a break. I saw a note from my highschool discussion board. When I clicked it open, I was surprised to see the message had my name. I tried to think of other people with my name in our class, but then realized that I was the only one. When I read on, it hit me! My best friend's mom had died after a long battle with lung cancer. Another dear friend who had lost my contact information was letting me know and telling me to give her a call.

After delaying a simple call for weeks to this girl shouldering the weight of the world, I realized the time to pick up the damn phone had come. Without hesitation, I dialed her numbers. I started of course with the wrong one, but ended up leaving a voicemail at work. I started crying towards the end of my sentence and struggled to finish in an even tone. I then dial her cell: turned off. I rang the house number. Her brother-in-law picked up and told me she was sleeping. I'll call again tomorrow.

My friend, my dear friend. So alone now... 30 is too young to lose a mother. Is there any age when it's old enough? I don't think so...

I feel stranded and crippled being too far to travel home to wish her my condolences in person. I wish I could be there. Maybe it's better that I'm not. I would not be able to stay calm and cry my eyes out in front of her and her family. Still, unable to touch...unable to make a difference...could I? Distance gets in the way, minds remain connected.

Beware of the Foreigner! Euww...

I'll tell ya one thing that has changed: People who hear the news of my green card all of a sudden become aware of the fact that I was/am a foreigner! One of them! The other, yuck...euwww stay away you suspicious thing. These thoughts run through their mind but their professional attire and liberal-arts education spill like clorox over their instincts, and they say "Congratulations :-)"

Strange for some, I do not even have an accent. I do not make grammar mistakes. I speak the daily language, slang, curses and all. I am upto date with the local news. I dress and act like a regular young adult would do. So I used to blend in perfectly, until the happy news of my permanent residency. Strange how that dialectic works.

Nothing Has Changed--Or Has It?

I have been watching for signs of change in the past week or so--ever since I got the green card. Am I more relaxed? Maybe, but I still worry about work. Are people treating me more kindly? Maybe, but perhaps we got used to being in each other's space and working together. Do I feel more attached to the U.S. and less attached to home? Nope--I already felt at home here. This is the life I have now, the life I had for the past many years. And I just got this fantastic calling card deal, thank you very much, I call home as if it's the next neighborhood over.

Still, change has to come. Otherwise, what did I kill myself for all these years? Why was I so anxious?

Got It! I have the greenie!

Phew! It's been a whirlwind day. It finally came through. I went through a series of questions on what I do, how I do, why I do. In the end, they reckoned I could stay in the US and that I'd be good for the country. Indeed! After 13 years, it would make the most sense.

I called my parents with the update. They were in their own world, but nonetheless thrilled for me. I sensed a tinge of separation anxiety in my mother's "Congratulations!" She knew, her daughter was going to be permanently away from her...

Green Card Interview

In 10 minutes, a car will come to pick me up. I'll be on my way to the Federal Plaza. Yikes!! I know it's a formality but my mind tells me I should fret and shiver with worry. I tried calling my parents, they're not home. My boyfriend - as usual "out to lunch" on important matters. Where is the "good luck" message? Maybe everyone else is aware that this is just a short stop on the way to the happy end. And I'm worried for nothing. Still...I feel like I am in one of those typical situations: I'm alone, somewhat mad that I am alone and channel my rage to a new level of power, standing up on my two feet and marching on... Yeah!