Heritage is a funny thing. I have a funny relationship with it and have often felt that I needed to explain mine away. But John Ray recently wrote his second-ever blogpost about the complexities of heritage, and I have several posts waiting to hatch in the metaphorical incubator for blogs...so it feels good to take some time to talk about where I come from. Like the former president George W. Bush said, if it feels good, do it. (Kids, don't try that at home.)
Before talking about diversity, other cultures, what government policies should/shouldn't be implemented, controversial current events, etc., it is so important to understand and appreciate where we come from. In recent job interviews, I have frequently been asked to describe how I identify culturally. The interviews that didn't feature that question at least allowed me to "tell about" myself. And the tidbits I chose to divulge and not divulge in those moments are important.
So let's talk about heritage. My heritage. You can talk about your heritage, too, and you should! But here's me.
It is so hard growing up in small towns in the South. All I, and most of my friends, ever wanted to do was get out. I think that stems more from the "growing up" part and less from the Southern small towns. Oh, the burden of adolescence. I was, for years, uncomfortable with being Southern, being American, being White, and being whatever socioeconomic class I thought my family fit into while in middle and high school (let's just say I learned a lot more about the American economic system in college). I couldn't ignore the negatives and guilt associated with my social identifiers. So I spent years denying those parts of me or over-explaining myself to prove that I did not truly fit into the negative associations...or even the positive ones. We moved several times, and each time, I sought a friend group that was diverse in any number of ways...perhaps to prove I was not the sum of my social identifiers. In college, I learned to call many of my identifiers "privileged" and how to unpack the invisible privilege backpack (see Peggy McIntosh or Wikipedia for more information). I also questioned other parts of my heritage--my Christianity, my beliefs, my (dis)abilities--for the sake of questioning. Pick a social identifier, any social identifier: I questioned that one, too. I question. It's who I am. I think it is the responsible thing to do as long as you don't drive yourself crazy with it.
While I was in college traveling the world and having weekly conversations with my little diverse Bonner Program bubble on the predominantly white College of Charleston campus, I came to appreciate the fact that I could identify as American or Southern or White or Christian...and it not be an implicitly bad thing. As a junior in college, I got back in touch with pieces of those social identifiers that I love: I started listening to bluegrass and tried to pick up the banjo, I watched NASCAR races, I made apple pies from scratch, I fell in love with the poetry of liturgy. I embraced the positive parts of my heritage. I was honest and open about who I was without feeling like I had to explain away the negative parts: those unearned privileges and not-so-pretty patterns of history.
To my surprise, I was not welcomed into the diversity world with open arms. I had watched several of my Black female friends reclaim their natural hair as they embraced their heritage. It was such a celebrated act. But when I talked about watching NASCAR, people were confused because I didn't look like the "rednecks" they expected were into NASCAR. They certainly didn't celebrate my learning to embrace my heritage, and they didn't stop for the stories about watching races with my dad (we would both always sleep through most of the race) or about how memorable it was for me when Dale Earnhardt died (seriously, ask me to tell you the story and I might still cry). I guess it's one of those privilege/oppression things. I know the White community is overprivileged in a way that disadvantages other races. I know the same is true for Christians in America, people with a college education, middle-classers, U.S. citizens, etc. I believe it is important to look past social identifiers, sources of privilege, and even diversity to instead hear people's unique and untainted stories. To create my story, I have spent a lot of time considering who I am and all the privilege/oppression issues to which my heritage inherently connects me. I bring a very important piece to diversity conversations: myself. And I promise that I will constantly check my privilege...but also that I will be completely transparent about who I am, what my heritage is.
Before talking about diversity, other cultures, what government policies should/shouldn't be implemented, controversial current events, etc., it is so important to understand and appreciate where we come from. In recent job interviews, I have frequently been asked to describe how I identify culturally. The interviews that didn't feature that question at least allowed me to "tell about" myself. And the tidbits I chose to divulge and not divulge in those moments are important.
So let's talk about heritage. My heritage. You can talk about your heritage, too, and you should! But here's me.
It is so hard growing up in small towns in the South. All I, and most of my friends, ever wanted to do was get out. I think that stems more from the "growing up" part and less from the Southern small towns. Oh, the burden of adolescence. I was, for years, uncomfortable with being Southern, being American, being White, and being whatever socioeconomic class I thought my family fit into while in middle and high school (let's just say I learned a lot more about the American economic system in college). I couldn't ignore the negatives and guilt associated with my social identifiers. So I spent years denying those parts of me or over-explaining myself to prove that I did not truly fit into the negative associations...or even the positive ones. We moved several times, and each time, I sought a friend group that was diverse in any number of ways...perhaps to prove I was not the sum of my social identifiers. In college, I learned to call many of my identifiers "privileged" and how to unpack the invisible privilege backpack (see Peggy McIntosh or Wikipedia for more information). I also questioned other parts of my heritage--my Christianity, my beliefs, my (dis)abilities--for the sake of questioning. Pick a social identifier, any social identifier: I questioned that one, too. I question. It's who I am. I think it is the responsible thing to do as long as you don't drive yourself crazy with it.
While I was in college traveling the world and having weekly conversations with my little diverse Bonner Program bubble on the predominantly white College of Charleston campus, I came to appreciate the fact that I could identify as American or Southern or White or Christian...and it not be an implicitly bad thing. As a junior in college, I got back in touch with pieces of those social identifiers that I love: I started listening to bluegrass and tried to pick up the banjo, I watched NASCAR races, I made apple pies from scratch, I fell in love with the poetry of liturgy. I embraced the positive parts of my heritage. I was honest and open about who I was without feeling like I had to explain away the negative parts: those unearned privileges and not-so-pretty patterns of history.
To my surprise, I was not welcomed into the diversity world with open arms. I had watched several of my Black female friends reclaim their natural hair as they embraced their heritage. It was such a celebrated act. But when I talked about watching NASCAR, people were confused because I didn't look like the "rednecks" they expected were into NASCAR. They certainly didn't celebrate my learning to embrace my heritage, and they didn't stop for the stories about watching races with my dad (we would both always sleep through most of the race) or about how memorable it was for me when Dale Earnhardt died (seriously, ask me to tell you the story and I might still cry). I guess it's one of those privilege/oppression things. I know the White community is overprivileged in a way that disadvantages other races. I know the same is true for Christians in America, people with a college education, middle-classers, U.S. citizens, etc. I believe it is important to look past social identifiers, sources of privilege, and even diversity to instead hear people's unique and untainted stories. To create my story, I have spent a lot of time considering who I am and all the privilege/oppression issues to which my heritage inherently connects me. I bring a very important piece to diversity conversations: myself. And I promise that I will constantly check my privilege...but also that I will be completely transparent about who I am, what my heritage is.
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| 16 year-old me getting in touch with my roots (pun SO intended) via the oak tree in Greenwood |
