Joseph's House has its year-long volunteers take two classes to supplement the service experience. The first was led by my friend Emily (her blog is on the list on the left) and focused on mindfulness, compassion, and self-reflection. The second class, which I am in now, is facilitated by David, the Joseph's House founder (whose blog is also on the left). This class looks at racism in our country, how it is still perpetuated, and the effects it has on poverty and other areas of social injustice.
My time with Emily was challenging yet deeply restorative as she guided me and my co-workers Amy and Anand through a gentle stretching of our minds and spirits. She helped me face things about myself and my job that I could not address on my own. Somehow I left each of our meetings feeling as if I had answers to questions that I never knew I had.
David's class has proved to be more difficult for me and I always leave with more questions. Oftentimes, I find myself shaking with emotion as we discuss issues of prejudice and racism. These things affect my Joseph's House residents, who are mostly Black, poor, and undereducated, but they also affect me. I am well-educated and from a middle-class family, but that cannot lighten the darkness of my skin or the enslavement of my ancestors. JVC spends a significant amount of time telling its volunteers not to think of the people we serve as the "other" but as individuals who are like us. This is important when the volunteer is a privileged, fairly affluent, and Caucasian individual serving minority populations in cultures very different from his or her own. In actuality, the lesson of accompaniment and solidarity is important for all.
However, my experience is also different. The "other" in society has always been my family, has always been me. When I hold the hand of a dying resident at Joseph's House, the brown of my skin will look like the brown of his. When my classmates or housemates talk abut feeling like a minority for the first time here in DC because of the whiteness of their skin and how uncomfortable it is, I know how they feel. It is what I have felt every day everywhere else but in DC. I know what it is like to be the token minority in the classroom, the dance studio, the leadership groups, the church, the family. I am the only JV on the East Coast of Polynesian descent, and the only one in DC of African-American descent as well. While my peers may approach racism and prejudice from an intellectual and then relational perspective, my knowledge of these issues are rooted in the personal experiences of myself and my family and then look towards the objective lens. The systems of oppression that we as volunteers study in order to help those who are marginalized are the same systems I am still learning how to overcome.
It can be difficult being the "other" in a group, and I have been wrestling with what it means to be a privileged, though in some ways still marginalized, woman of color serving impoverished and completely marginalized people of color. It feels hypocritical sometimes, as if somehow I am better than them since I am young, healthy, educated, and have a stable enough future where I can make no money for a year and that not negatively affect me. I hope my service is not seen like that. I find myself wondering if my Joseph's House residents trust me because I am compassionate and good at my job or because I look like them.
And yet by being the "other" I fit in. DC has such a diverse, brown population that for the first time in my life I blend into the crowd. When people stare at me on the street it is because I look interesting and not because I am the only person of color walking around. I understand how my residents speak and how they show affection because my family does it the same way. My frustrations, dreams, and joys are the same as theirs. And when my residents need love, I am able to give it, because my "other" is the same as theirs.
My housemates and I almost did not get to go to the Presidential Inauguration in January. I advocated on behalf of my house though, partially because the Inauguration is such a big deal in DC, but also because Obama is one of my role models. Don't get me wrong, he is by no means an ideal President (drones and sequesters are awful things to have attached to your legacy), but he represents me and countless people in our country who are the "other." Growing up, my parents always told me I could be anything I wanted to be, but that dream can get discouraging when you see no one doing the things you want to do who are like you. Obama is like me. He is a child of a multi-racial family, he is strongly connected to the Pacific, and though he makes mistakes, he believes in the work of social justice too. Watching him get inaugurated, with his hand on Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr's Bible, was one of the most inspiring moments of my life. It showed me that being different from what society normally sees as desirable can change history, especially when done with courage and hope. I remember that when the segregation in our capital makes me angry, or when I have to watch another person I love die from a disease that should no longer kill anyone. You have to be different to make things different. So I will keep on being the "other." I'm in good company.
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