Not a day goes by that I am asked what country I am from or assumed to be an ethnicity other than what history runs in me. I find it infuriating and I am not alone. Many of my friends and family that claim various directions but one path have similar stories of always explaining who we are to people that don’t matter or ignoring requests to be what we are not from people who do. For much of my life these daily, I kid you not, incidents left no room for vulnerable exposure and can explain why much of my youth was spent in extremes of silent tolerance or determined and loud explorations of various aspects of my traditions and why my tongue learned to slice off heads and other body parts in response to insensitive assumptions.
There was a time when being told what I was expected to or should be made me cringe and shake with anger and indignation. I was appalled that people did not have the decency to ask the questions in a direct and honest manner and once the answers were received accept that who or what I might be wasn't as simple as they would have liked. There were even times when I felt ashamed that my truth was too complex to tie up in a neat little package for delivery. I was angered that in America, the great melting pot, people still needed to define others as not belonging. What truly irritated me was rather than stopping and owning their own issues regarding the fact that who and what I might be differed from their expectations of who and what I should be they believed I wasn't being honest. Their choice to pigeon hole me within their understanding of my "people's history" often alienated me from the security I had originally felt in just being me. At times it made me question the worth and value of my own history despite knowing the wealth I had.
Perhaps coming from the family I come from I was blessed with the gift of no expectation. I come from a multi ethnic and religious family. We know our history, some of us more than others, but we are a true American family that can touch on most lines of immigration into this country, some before it was a country, while holding hands with those that have always been here. I write this with unabashed pride but without conceit. As a child I never questioned our differences, instead I embraced the culture and traditions members of the various branches of my family shared with me. It wasn't until I entered the school system that I was made painfully aware that last names didn't match physical expectations, that religious symbolism couldn't possibly be claimed and that the history I had been given was a fairy tale because those in question couldn't see America beyond the boundaries that kept them safe. Needless to say this did a lot of damage to not only my self esteem but to the self esteem of many of my cousins and friends who shared the similar experience of struggling against being defined as who and what they were based on assumptions not on who they believed and knew themselves to be. Many chose to trade in their rich family history for the history of one parent or selected spouses in order to protect their children from facing the similar circumstances. Many of them, like me, refused to be defined and continue to struggle against the ignorance of others and at times, ourselves, but the struggle in what seems an endless war can take its toll.
My grandmother once explained to me that everyone is in search of their “tribe" and that is why someone will make assumptions regarding the particular ethnic or religious group you “should” belong. By identifying you they are trying to connect or relate to you, sometimes in a way that separates them from you, but they are trying to determine the boundaries of that understanding. Her innocent way of trying to explain away peoples rude and hurtful behavior, as well as help me confront my own prejudicial feelings towards others, was appreciated but as an adult I am a little less "we are all related" when it comes to tolerating such behavior. I often end up asking questions of the person making the assumptions in a way that holds a mirror up to them. Whether they actually see what they are looking at is their choice but I know that if I am lucky I am going to run across people whose culture and traditions differ from my own and allowing my curiosity to be vulnerable and sincere might go a longer way than just making assumptions regarding their cultures and beliefs. Admitting my ignorance and accepting that when my path crosses someone who is beyond my experience that they belong to my experience regardless of the details might allow that person to not only share who they are but be happy and in turn allow me to be happy as well. Admitting my fears and uneasiness with things different might allow me to reach pass the safety of the prejudices and stereotypes I have in regards to others that I have no true individual history with and allow the reality and depth of an individual to reveal itself in a wonderful and magical way.
I will be the first to admit it is a struggle to do so, especially when faced with social situations that encourage a hierarchy based on stereo-types and definitions. Despite standing rooted in who and what my genes and traditions tell me I am I know that the definition of me goes beyond what I have been given especially as those boarders change with age and experience. I adopt and let go of things with the understanding the roots are still strong. In trying to define myself for the sake of those who require me to, including myself at times, I find that I can be but I can not own any part of who I truly am. In protest of being defined only within my history I find myself proudly checking off "other" in most areas of my life, especially when Woman, Artist, American doesn't pacify the curious. Sometimes not staking firm claim to a specific identity alienates me from certain aspects of what joins together to define being that "other" but it also leaves room for what "other" can be defined and hopefully pushes peoples, including my own, notions of what someone of "----" background should be. " Perhaps that is the best way to be? I am still living this life so I will let you know when I reach the end.
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