Who are you with? I heard a woman ask Eleanor, my roommate's sister. I was visiting my roommate and her family in North Carolina. I heard Eleanor say - these are my sisters, but not mention anything about me. But I knew what the woman was asking. She was asking - who is the brown girl in the pool playing with your kids? She wasn't being malicious or rude. She was just pointing out that I don't belong. Because I'm different. Because I'm brown. So I stayed in the pool, but the exchange lingered. And I felt uneasy. This isn't my family, this isn't my town, this isn't my group. So I got out of the pool and sat at a table by myself. I am 24 years old and I still feel incredibly small and out of place when someone questions my belonging because of traits I do or don't have. This was such an unintentional, innocent question - 'who are you with?' Not directed at me, not an attack, not meant to blatantly single out. This should not have such a rattling effect on me. This should not make me acutely aware of my 'browness.'I shouldn't feel uncomfortable in my skin - thinking that this is all everyone could see or talk about.
Friday, October 21, 2016
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Because I tan so quickly
You tell me it's not fair that I tan so quickly.
But do you know the price I have to pay, because I look this way?
You say you want my skin - but would you want it for more than a day.
Is it worth it when the security guard follows you around.
Because of the color of my skin, I'm bound.
You say that I'm lucky that my skin is still dark in the winter.
But have I ever told you that it makes me bitter.
Because I've been told that my whole life white skin is better.
You tell me that the exotic look is in.
But my skin is not a trend.
Do you know how long it takes to mend,
years of self doubt, years of being left out.
You tell me that I'm so lucky to be bilingual.
But do you know the price I've had to pay.
Learning the language so I could earn my stay
In this country.
Not knowing my home.
Feeling alone.
Because I am here.
But my roots are elsewhere.
Do you know how much I long,
to not feel wrong
to not be wronged
Because I tan so quickly.
Have you ever felt judgement come down so swiftly.
Because you tan so quickly.
Have you ever felt fear knowing you're not wanted here.
Because you tan so quickly.
Has fairness ever seemed like just a fairytale, meant for the fairest (skinned) of them all.
Have you ever had to be two in one.
Playing the game, acting like it's fun.
Pretending to be white, knowing it's a show.
But if you slow,
then you are left behind.
Because the world is not kind,
when you tan so quickly.
Have you ever yearned
when you learned
that heaven is made of people
not like the ones you see in the steeple.
Every tongue, tribe, and nation.
Here is where my hope lies, in this station.
Have you ever felt you were made incorrectly. Defectively.
Have you ever been washed by relief,
felt like you can finally breathe,
when you heard - the color of your skin is very good.
That's how it was created to be.
How do we fail to see.
You tell me it's not fair that I tan so quickly.
I agree. But it's who I'm made to be. And in that fact, I will be free.
But do you know the price I have to pay, because I look this way?
You say you want my skin - but would you want it for more than a day.
Is it worth it when the security guard follows you around.
Because of the color of my skin, I'm bound.
You say that I'm lucky that my skin is still dark in the winter.
But have I ever told you that it makes me bitter.
Because I've been told that my whole life white skin is better.
You tell me that the exotic look is in.
But my skin is not a trend.
Do you know how long it takes to mend,
years of self doubt, years of being left out.
You tell me that I'm so lucky to be bilingual.
But do you know the price I've had to pay.
Learning the language so I could earn my stay
In this country.
Not knowing my home.
Feeling alone.
Because I am here.
But my roots are elsewhere.
Do you know how much I long,
to not feel wrong
to not be wronged
Because I tan so quickly.
Have you ever felt judgement come down so swiftly.
Because you tan so quickly.
Have you ever felt fear knowing you're not wanted here.
Because you tan so quickly.
Has fairness ever seemed like just a fairytale, meant for the fairest (skinned) of them all.
Have you ever had to be two in one.
Playing the game, acting like it's fun.
Pretending to be white, knowing it's a show.
But if you slow,
then you are left behind.
Because the world is not kind,
when you tan so quickly.
Have you ever yearned
when you learned
that heaven is made of people
not like the ones you see in the steeple.
Every tongue, tribe, and nation.
Here is where my hope lies, in this station.
Have you ever felt you were made incorrectly. Defectively.
Have you ever been washed by relief,
felt like you can finally breathe,
when you heard - the color of your skin is very good.
That's how it was created to be.
How do we fail to see.
You tell me it's not fair that I tan so quickly.
I agree. But it's who I'm made to be. And in that fact, I will be free.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Praying For:
Patience with my mom and things that need to be figured out.
Patience with doctors, nurses, respitory technicians, and personal care assistants. That I may be kind and understanding, friendly and loving.
To take away the fear of the recovery period. It is stressful to live in fear of what is to come.
Prayer for Eastern Fairfax while I am gone. That it does not fall apart, that this is a preparation period.
Prayer that I may have more zeal for what I am called to do after this experience, not less.
Prayer for mom, that she feels well taken care of. Prayer that I can love her well and not make my stress, her stress.
Lord, I pray that you may draw healing out of this for my family instead of more brokeness.
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Back to the Basics
I have been a volunteer leader at Falls Church High School for the past three and a half years. In that time I have met girls that were freshman in high school when I was a freshman in college. Now we are both seniors. There have been many sweet moments of real life that I have been able to be a part of in these girls lives. This year I have watched them walk across fields and courts for their senior nights. Time has gone by so quickly and these girls have grown and I have grown and our friendships have grown.
I had so many expectations this year about the dynamics of my friendships with my high school friends. All volunteer leaders want to be rock stars and help change lives and be there for significant moments in their friends lives. This year that has been harder for me. I am not there as much as I want to be. So in the moments when I am able to sit with one of my high school friends, I feel a lot of pressure to make those moments powerful and impactful. I put pressure on myself to continually reach out and overdose on my presence at the school or via text, tweet, insta's, etc. And it has not gone so well.
Over and over again I try to be Jesus to these friends. I try to love them like Jesus loves them. But I fail. Because I am not Jesus. Jesus is Jesus. "I am I am." And my high school friends don't need me to be Jesus, they need Jesus.
I worry and stress over whether or not I am loving enough for my high school friends to feel they can be open with me. I worry and stress whether or not I am letting them know that I care enough. I worry and stress over whether or not my high school friends feel like I have forgotten them. I worry and stress that the precious time I have with them, I am wasting.
I pray that they will forgive me for not being Jesus.
So it's time to go back to the basics. This semester, and this past week specifically, I have realized that I need to go back to the beginning. The beginning of creation - what was my life originally created to be? and the beginning of my friendships with these girls. I do not have overwhelming wisdom to give. I can not fix lives.
But I can be a friend.
Last night, I went to go hang out at a place where two of these high school friends work. When they closed, we stacked chairs. Then we ate gelatto. This was such a sweet interaction because I had no agenda. Because I didn't try to make my interactions this huge deal. Because I went back to the basics. Hanging out with these two, I realized, these high school friends are actually my friends and I am their friend. It was so simple and so sweet. So casual.
There is no formula for being a leader. There is no handbook on how to make deep meaningful friendships (there probably is) but the fact remains that these friendships are natural and different from person to person. Sometimes just hanging out and eating gelatto is as sweet as holding a friend when they are crying.
I am thankful that this is a time when I am re-learning what friendship is. I am thankful that my high school friends are teaching me. And I am thankful that "We know what real love is because Jesus gave up His life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters." 1 John 3:16
I had so many expectations this year about the dynamics of my friendships with my high school friends. All volunteer leaders want to be rock stars and help change lives and be there for significant moments in their friends lives. This year that has been harder for me. I am not there as much as I want to be. So in the moments when I am able to sit with one of my high school friends, I feel a lot of pressure to make those moments powerful and impactful. I put pressure on myself to continually reach out and overdose on my presence at the school or via text, tweet, insta's, etc. And it has not gone so well.
Over and over again I try to be Jesus to these friends. I try to love them like Jesus loves them. But I fail. Because I am not Jesus. Jesus is Jesus. "I am I am." And my high school friends don't need me to be Jesus, they need Jesus.
I worry and stress over whether or not I am loving enough for my high school friends to feel they can be open with me. I worry and stress whether or not I am letting them know that I care enough. I worry and stress over whether or not my high school friends feel like I have forgotten them. I worry and stress that the precious time I have with them, I am wasting.
I pray that they will forgive me for not being Jesus.
So it's time to go back to the basics. This semester, and this past week specifically, I have realized that I need to go back to the beginning. The beginning of creation - what was my life originally created to be? and the beginning of my friendships with these girls. I do not have overwhelming wisdom to give. I can not fix lives.
But I can be a friend.
Last night, I went to go hang out at a place where two of these high school friends work. When they closed, we stacked chairs. Then we ate gelatto. This was such a sweet interaction because I had no agenda. Because I didn't try to make my interactions this huge deal. Because I went back to the basics. Hanging out with these two, I realized, these high school friends are actually my friends and I am their friend. It was so simple and so sweet. So casual.
There is no formula for being a leader. There is no handbook on how to make deep meaningful friendships (there probably is) but the fact remains that these friendships are natural and different from person to person. Sometimes just hanging out and eating gelatto is as sweet as holding a friend when they are crying.
I am thankful that this is a time when I am re-learning what friendship is. I am thankful that my high school friends are teaching me. And I am thankful that "We know what real love is because Jesus gave up His life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters." 1 John 3:16
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Tonight is Hard.
Tonight is hard.
Sitting upstairs, listening to my parents arguing downstairs. Knowing that everything in our family is changing. Feeling that my family is literally ripping me apart and tearing me down, while my family is the thing that I love the most.
Then seeing the FCPS Confessions twitter accounts where students are named and shamed. Where secrets are revealed with the intent to hurt. Something so full of hurt and pain. People versus people. Just a few weeks ago am FCPS student committed suicide. Last year so many suicides. So much pain. So much hurt. So much loneliness.
And I am overcome and hurt. How can our world be so cruel. How can these students who I care so deeply about be such jerks. How can my parents no longer be who I need them to be? Why does it feel like my life is so hard and there are so many hoops to jump through? Where is the happiness?
And while I read through the tweets, I felt so much desperation. What can I do to fix all this hurt? And while I listened to the hushed arguments of my parents I desperately tried to think of the words that I could say to both of my parents in consolation.
And I realized, this is all so out of my hands, so out of my league. I can literally do nothing.
Because I cannot forgive the sins of these kids or my parents, I cannot take away the pain, I can not sacrifice to make it better. Because I need that forgiveness just as much as these kids. Because I feel the same pain.
Because Jesus is the one, oh the sweet ONE who cares so deeply about me, about FCPS, about my parents. And I am learning that none of this pain and hurt could ever make sense without the knowledge that there is someone, Jesus, who died for me and for those that hurt me and for those that I love and are in pain; REGARDLESS of anything and everything I have ever done or said, regardless of anything anyone has ever done. Because otherwise we are all so eternally lost in this ugly world of cruel words and pain.
And as I was having a freak out/panic attack/questioning literally everything I skimmed Hebrews 10. And verse 17 said, "Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more." Jesus truly does make beautiful things out of us. For how can we be loved through all these mistakes, through all this pain. It does not make sense. But it is true.
And in my pain, this is what I am clinging so desperately to, to Jesus, to his love for me. I am loved. Even when it feels like the world, my world is spinning so rapidly out of control. This love will always be true when nothing else remains the same.
And I am okay. And I am loved. And I am in pain. And I hurt. I am all of these things at once.
Sitting upstairs, listening to my parents arguing downstairs. Knowing that everything in our family is changing. Feeling that my family is literally ripping me apart and tearing me down, while my family is the thing that I love the most.
Then seeing the FCPS Confessions twitter accounts where students are named and shamed. Where secrets are revealed with the intent to hurt. Something so full of hurt and pain. People versus people. Just a few weeks ago am FCPS student committed suicide. Last year so many suicides. So much pain. So much hurt. So much loneliness.
And I am overcome and hurt. How can our world be so cruel. How can these students who I care so deeply about be such jerks. How can my parents no longer be who I need them to be? Why does it feel like my life is so hard and there are so many hoops to jump through? Where is the happiness?
And while I read through the tweets, I felt so much desperation. What can I do to fix all this hurt? And while I listened to the hushed arguments of my parents I desperately tried to think of the words that I could say to both of my parents in consolation.
And I realized, this is all so out of my hands, so out of my league. I can literally do nothing.
Because I cannot forgive the sins of these kids or my parents, I cannot take away the pain, I can not sacrifice to make it better. Because I need that forgiveness just as much as these kids. Because I feel the same pain.
Because Jesus is the one, oh the sweet ONE who cares so deeply about me, about FCPS, about my parents. And I am learning that none of this pain and hurt could ever make sense without the knowledge that there is someone, Jesus, who died for me and for those that hurt me and for those that I love and are in pain; REGARDLESS of anything and everything I have ever done or said, regardless of anything anyone has ever done. Because otherwise we are all so eternally lost in this ugly world of cruel words and pain.
And as I was having a freak out/panic attack/questioning literally everything I skimmed Hebrews 10. And verse 17 said, "Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more." Jesus truly does make beautiful things out of us. For how can we be loved through all these mistakes, through all this pain. It does not make sense. But it is true.
And in my pain, this is what I am clinging so desperately to, to Jesus, to his love for me. I am loved. Even when it feels like the world, my world is spinning so rapidly out of control. This love will always be true when nothing else remains the same.
And I am okay. And I am loved. And I am in pain. And I hurt. I am all of these things at once.
Friday, September 6, 2013
My Life as a College Senior.
So today marks the end of my second week as a senior in college. The final year of my undergraduate career. I'm just going to jump right into how my time before embarking on adulthood has played out.
I would describe my first few days as a college senior as something akin to a middle school girl experience all over again. I started my first day of class off by walking around campus wondering where my class was and how to get from one side of campus to the other. Mind you, this is my fourth year at this school. I lived on campus for three years. Still, no clue how to get from the library to Enterprise, no clue where Enterprise is at, no clue if that is even a real building.
At multiple events and multiple times I was asked if I was a freshman. Not that there is much age difference between a freshman and myself, it's just that, that means that I seem new and shiny and there is something weird about people thinking that I am when in reality I am old and haggardly.
Also, I am in a class with all freshman. It's French 115. And I am the dumbest one in that class. So yup.
On Tuesday, the second day of class, I convinced myself that I did not have class and skipped it. I later realized, I had had class and I was an idiot.
Finally, to round up my experience as a middle school girl in a college senior's body, comes the most embarrassing moment thus far. Boys feel free to read no longer. My first week in school also happened to be the week I was on my period. Yup. So because typical symptoms of the beautiful flowering of my womanhood I bled through my shorts. Holla. The best/worst (definitely worst) was the fact that I went to college young life that night and got called up for a skit. Thankfully, everyone got to witness this.
So what I have come to learn is the following: age does not mean I am smarter, it seems to mean the opposite; I will never know how to get around campus; I should probably look at my schedule for classes sometime; and I will have the same accidents I had in middle school
I could not have started this year off in a more humbling way. So let's see where it goes from here.
I would describe my first few days as a college senior as something akin to a middle school girl experience all over again. I started my first day of class off by walking around campus wondering where my class was and how to get from one side of campus to the other. Mind you, this is my fourth year at this school. I lived on campus for three years. Still, no clue how to get from the library to Enterprise, no clue where Enterprise is at, no clue if that is even a real building.
At multiple events and multiple times I was asked if I was a freshman. Not that there is much age difference between a freshman and myself, it's just that, that means that I seem new and shiny and there is something weird about people thinking that I am when in reality I am old and haggardly.
Also, I am in a class with all freshman. It's French 115. And I am the dumbest one in that class. So yup.
On Tuesday, the second day of class, I convinced myself that I did not have class and skipped it. I later realized, I had had class and I was an idiot.
Finally, to round up my experience as a middle school girl in a college senior's body, comes the most embarrassing moment thus far. Boys feel free to read no longer. My first week in school also happened to be the week I was on my period. Yup. So because typical symptoms of the beautiful flowering of my womanhood I bled through my shorts. Holla. The best/worst (definitely worst) was the fact that I went to college young life that night and got called up for a skit. Thankfully, everyone got to witness this.
So what I have come to learn is the following: age does not mean I am smarter, it seems to mean the opposite; I will never know how to get around campus; I should probably look at my schedule for classes sometime; and I will have the same accidents I had in middle school
I could not have started this year off in a more humbling way. So let's see where it goes from here.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
ha. ha. ha.
Help. Help. Help. How do I do all the homework I have to do? My motivation is gone. It is all away. Never here to stay. Living my life like it is summer and I have no more homework assignments, while all those assignments sit in my lap waiting to be completed. Makes me feel like I'm going to be defeated. Help. Help. Help. Help me find the muster to complete this cluster of work to be done before I can enjoy the sun. I know I just have to grit my teeth and bear it, make it through the next three days, but my mind is all a haze. Ugh. Just thinking of all the fun things I have planned for the rest of this season, shouldn't that be reason enough, knowing the work will lead to pleasing? Anyway. I'm off to write these two papers and study for this exam. Will my brain melt? Probably. Ha. Ha. Ha.
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