As I am sitting here, I am desperately trying to choose the perfect words to paint an accurate portrait of my time in India so far. I so deeply desire to share with you the stories that have become my life over the past month. I want you to smell the aroma that fills the air as I walk through the streets, I want you to see the beautiful sari's that only enhance the beauty of Indian women; but most importantly, I want you to share the joy and pain that my heart feels as I walk along this path. However, I truly am at a loss. When I first decided to continue posting throughout my time abroad, I expected to simply share stories of my time here so that friends and family from home and elsewhere could share this journey with me. But as I was attempting to choose a story or two to fill the lines on this post, I discovered that this particular blog is not meant to put a smile on the face of its audience or bring a tear to my mother's eye; rather, this post is written at a time of deep vulnerability. Over the past few weeks, I have discovered that I will never fully be able to see India. From the moment that I stepped off of Canadian soil, I became a foreigner.
I soon learned that my experience in India will forever be tainted due to the undeniable fact that I am a foreigner. As my time in India has progressed, I have felt more frustrated and confused. However, this frustration comes from a place of ignorance and naiivety. The heartbreaking truth is that I will never fully be able to understand the lives of the people I meet, I will never be able to feel the pain that they feel or revel in the joy that they find in life. I am simply looking through Western glasses that are permanently glued to my face. The moment that I learned this was just after lunch when the maid, whose name is Gracie had just arrived to begin her daily duties. I said my token "Hello Gracie" in a sing-song fashion, and she replied in an equally chipper tone. As we attempted to communicate through many gestures and finger-pointing, she said in full English "I black, you white. I blood is red, you blood is red". This sentance struck me with incredible weight and power. I so wanted and still want to believe this statement. I want to believe that my skin does not matter, it is what is beneath it that counts; but I simply can't. I cannot believe that my white skin does not change the way people treat me or how they act in my presence. And this brings the inevitable question of what it means to "do good" and if it is possible to "do good" while living in a foreign country for 3.5 months. I am an individual who attempts to help those around me and who finds joy in filling a need; however, I am human. To be honest, I do often have selfish motives. After much preparation for my adventure in India, I knew that some of my motivation was selfish. I wanted and still want to grow as an individual, to learn more about the world and discover new truths about living; however, there was a small part of myself who somehow thought that I might be able to "do good" along the way. However, as I sit here in my white body, with my blonde hair, and comfortable luxuries waiting for me in Canada; I am coming to the realization that my journey in India is purely selfish.
I know this post may seem depressing to some degree, and for that I am sorry; however, I think that it is an important question to ask and to struggle with. As I was reading some of the older posts that I had written, I stopped on my very first blog posting. This post was about living barefoot, stripping myself of the comforts that allow me to hide my fears and live life nakedly. As I read over this blog, I discovered that it is impossible for me to truly step into the shoes of the man who has no shoes at all. I will never be able to strip myself of my skin or my western ideals; but maybe, the impossible is not important...maybe there is another way.
This evening Erika and I went with two of the home nurses that we live with to "The Exhibition", which is essentially a fair with hundreds of little kiosks that sell essentially the same thing. While we were there, I had a brief moment of peace with one of the home nurses who has become a very good friend of mine. As we were watching the crowds push and shove their way to the best deal, I leaned over and quietly apologized for bringing so much unnecessary attention to her due to my white skin. She looked at me with a blank stare and said, "You're not white. You are my dori" (which is the Tamil word for friend). This short moment seemed to have showed me a new possibility. Yes, it may be impossible to truly walk in the shoes of an Indian, but maybe I am able to walk beside them and be their friend.
I am still struggling through this question of "doing good" and what that tangibly looks like, so your thoughts are more than welcome. I truly am writing this with complete vulnerability and with a desperate desire to find some sort of answer. I invite you to sruggle with me!
p.s. I promise that the next post I write will tell of my little adventures as I am living them. I just needed to share this moment of despreation with you.
I soon learned that my experience in India will forever be tainted due to the undeniable fact that I am a foreigner. As my time in India has progressed, I have felt more frustrated and confused. However, this frustration comes from a place of ignorance and naiivety. The heartbreaking truth is that I will never fully be able to understand the lives of the people I meet, I will never be able to feel the pain that they feel or revel in the joy that they find in life. I am simply looking through Western glasses that are permanently glued to my face. The moment that I learned this was just after lunch when the maid, whose name is Gracie had just arrived to begin her daily duties. I said my token "Hello Gracie" in a sing-song fashion, and she replied in an equally chipper tone. As we attempted to communicate through many gestures and finger-pointing, she said in full English "I black, you white. I blood is red, you blood is red". This sentance struck me with incredible weight and power. I so wanted and still want to believe this statement. I want to believe that my skin does not matter, it is what is beneath it that counts; but I simply can't. I cannot believe that my white skin does not change the way people treat me or how they act in my presence. And this brings the inevitable question of what it means to "do good" and if it is possible to "do good" while living in a foreign country for 3.5 months. I am an individual who attempts to help those around me and who finds joy in filling a need; however, I am human. To be honest, I do often have selfish motives. After much preparation for my adventure in India, I knew that some of my motivation was selfish. I wanted and still want to grow as an individual, to learn more about the world and discover new truths about living; however, there was a small part of myself who somehow thought that I might be able to "do good" along the way. However, as I sit here in my white body, with my blonde hair, and comfortable luxuries waiting for me in Canada; I am coming to the realization that my journey in India is purely selfish.
I know this post may seem depressing to some degree, and for that I am sorry; however, I think that it is an important question to ask and to struggle with. As I was reading some of the older posts that I had written, I stopped on my very first blog posting. This post was about living barefoot, stripping myself of the comforts that allow me to hide my fears and live life nakedly. As I read over this blog, I discovered that it is impossible for me to truly step into the shoes of the man who has no shoes at all. I will never be able to strip myself of my skin or my western ideals; but maybe, the impossible is not important...maybe there is another way.
This evening Erika and I went with two of the home nurses that we live with to "The Exhibition", which is essentially a fair with hundreds of little kiosks that sell essentially the same thing. While we were there, I had a brief moment of peace with one of the home nurses who has become a very good friend of mine. As we were watching the crowds push and shove their way to the best deal, I leaned over and quietly apologized for bringing so much unnecessary attention to her due to my white skin. She looked at me with a blank stare and said, "You're not white. You are my dori" (which is the Tamil word for friend). This short moment seemed to have showed me a new possibility. Yes, it may be impossible to truly walk in the shoes of an Indian, but maybe I am able to walk beside them and be their friend.
I am still struggling through this question of "doing good" and what that tangibly looks like, so your thoughts are more than welcome. I truly am writing this with complete vulnerability and with a desperate desire to find some sort of answer. I invite you to sruggle with me!
p.s. I promise that the next post I write will tell of my little adventures as I am living them. I just needed to share this moment of despreation with you.
Hi Nicole. Thank you for being so vulnerable. I can feel your sadness and disappointment in your words... what a hard thing to learn! I think that the realization of what it really means to "be white" in the world is such an important lesson - and one that those of us who are white need to continuously be learning, so that when we act in the world, we're no longer acting in ignorance but with eyes wide open - in order to see more clearly (ourselves, others, the world) and actually make things better. Most importantly, realizing that skin colour does in fact matter can teach us how to give power up to those who have gone too long without it. Or at least, I think it can. I wish I had more time to write this... know that I'm sending you love and hope and courage.
ReplyDeleteNicole, I just want to encourage you as someone who is asking the same questions and going through a similar brokenness - you *are* doing good. Not so much in what you give, but why you give. Because there is grace, life and love in you to give. And that is exactly what you are *doing*.
ReplyDeleteNo matter where we are, whether it's our own backyard or beyond our borders, there will always be differences that set us apart from each other. From loving the ones we are called to love. Even for the heroes that went before us from Mandela to the Messiah, they had to live the same grace to love the other. You're not all that different from that grace.
So I want to encourage you, Nicole- keep loving, keep being their dori.
Prayers from Calcutta,
Jobin
Hey Nicole (and Erika),
ReplyDeleteAll four of us from Kenya are sitting in the computer cafe right now and trying to put some of our experiences down to convey them to friends and families back home. It is truly flipping hard. I find it very difficult to be able to tell these stories for the same reasons you do. The feelings of being white and therefore different have been on our minds a lot in Kenya as well and we talk about these issues almost daily. No answers are forthcoming to this issue. What I can convey is some advice from a cousin of mine that spent almost a year in Kenya ten years ago that I think we are all feeling in one way or another. His advice is to not let the white man's burden get you down.
The white man's burden is the guilt that we all feel, looking at this poverty and knowing that it was many of our ancestors and countrymen that caused and perpetuate this poverty. What I take from this advice is the difficulty with the issue of helping and "doing good". I want to help every day but it is hard to do daily and because we are so different, I will never know their poverty and desperation. But I think you hit the nail on the head that the best we can do sometimes is to just be their friend. What Erika has said to me before always hit a chord, that even something as simple as talking to a lonely person can do good. So I am taking the challenge to learn as much as I can, perhaps selfishly, but with the knowledge that when I get back is when I can start being responsible for the world I live in and find ways to do good daily, big or small.
That is why I do not believe that your journey to India was purely selfish. Even look at the lessons you are trying to convey to friends and families back home. You want others to learn from what is happening to you. And learning from different people and experiences is how we grow. I think living barefoot is an attempt to grow with others and I do think you are doing that, even if it is not in the ways you originally foresaw.
Keep fighting through the challenges in India, you two are very strong, smart girls and I wish you all the best.
Thanks for the blog, Nicole, and comment, Connor Emma, Sebastien and Sam. I was having a tough time myself trying to experience life through the eyes of the locals but being treated like a tourist. Together, these feelings and your blog inspired me to wrtie mine: http://jlvanden2011.blogspot.com/ "Becoming my own"
ReplyDeleteJust wanted to let you know . . .keep on feelin'
Jess
The Dominican sends its love Nicole,
ReplyDeleteYour blog was raw and profound. I truly enjoyed reading it and it gave me a chance to reflect on my own time here a bit as well. I also cannot help but feel that sometimes people go out of their way to make us feel comfortable while we are here, perhaps because we are foreigners but also because of the Dominican hospitality. I think we attract attention, yes, but it also says a lot about the people we are--they are also genuinely kind hearted people.
As we spend our time here in the Dominican, making local friends, I am proud to say we too have become allies of our friends here. We were reminded yesterday that we are foreigners and not locals when we had to pay to get into a park while the locals got in for free.
Our expectations, values and sense of right and wrong will be challenged. You are brave and I know you will find your place along side your friends. I wish you all the best.