I believe in the power of stories to create change.
But when I was asked to share my story, I was initially skeptical that people would want to hear what I had to say.
A wise person in my life likes to tell me that I will not be able to empower others if I don't first empower myself, so I began digging around in my life for a story worth telling, a story that might create change.
On September 25th, a night of free thinkers and free stuff that we at the College of Charleston like to call "in!Genius," I had the incredible opportunity to share my story with a theatre full of students, faculty, community members, and my dearest friends. Now that it has been told, I'd like to pack it away for awhile and work on creating some new stories. But for those of you who missed it, here it is. Grab some popcorn and enjoy!
Unlike the first week, this past week flew by! I can't believe it's already Somwaar (that's “Monday" for you non-Hindi speakers). My transition to India has been a strange one, an unexpected one. I spent the first week feeling displaced and uncomfortable and the second week, like clockwork, began with me falling into routine. I woke up Monday morning for class and just accepted that this is my life for the next two months. I think I expected a slightly delusional, lovesick phase where I adored all things Indian and pranced around the surging streets wearing a bindi and brightly colored sarees singing Bollywood songs in a trilling voice. Maybe it's for the best that I avoided that phase...it feels somewhat "othering" as I watch other students in my program exoticize Jaipur.
So just like I would in Charleston, I went to class, did some homework, took some naps, explored, volunteered, looked at cat pictures, ran in a park, and ate bananas with peanut butter (God bless Jiff Extra Crunchy). I felt very directionless upon starting this past week, but I am now feeling a bit more like I belong here. Even if my lactose intolerance is making eating very, very tricky...
Volunteering was the highlight of my week. I went with three other students to a women's center to teach English to the women there for an hour and a half. It was so refreshing! The women there have been in abusive situations and are at this short stay home until a new situation can be worked out. I met about ten women and two children in my first day there, and I got to work really closely with three of them who are about the same age as me. My inner English teacher kicked in right away and it felt so natural to sit there talking with them, letting them teach me just as much as I was teaching them. I used more Hindi trying to explain the seasons, days of the week, and family terms to them than I have in any other situation I've found myself in while here so far. Their faces were so open and ready to smile. They wanted to know all about me and when I first introduced myself, one of the women thought I said my name was "All is well," which stuck for the rest of our time together. It made me smile.
Language exchange can be a beautiful thing. I only knew a little Hindi and they only knew a little English, but we were learning quickly from one another because we wanted to be able to communicate and get to know one another. It wa a little chaotic because there were four of us Americans sitting at one table all working independently with different women. About halfway through our time there, one of the women was summoned to leave for Pushkar where she was going to a "new situation." She told us in Hindi that she wouldn't be coming back and a couple of the women teared up, sad to see her go. For all the harassment women here face (it's different for videshi and Indian women...अलग-अलग), there seems to be a beautiful community of women, a sisterhood similar to the one I experienced in Morocco. I hope that her new situation is better. The most unsettling part of my time there was when one of the women I was talking with grabbed the Hindi-English dictionary from the table to look up "गाली" which means "abuse." I hope that learning English will be encouraging for them and possibly even a skill they will be able to use in their lives. Mostly I just hope that our friendship is meaningful for them as well as me.
I am off to go be studious now and learn me some Hindi. More about my adventures will come sooner rather than later, I promise.
Halloween happens to be in my top 3 favorite holidays. On days like today, when the routine of life and the fluorescent lights of the library are determined to crush my spirit, I claim it as my very favorite (yes, above all the big ones: Christmas, Easter, the 4th of July, Arbor Day). To an extent, I may have inherited my enthusiasm for the creepiest of holidays from my younger sister, Victoria, who has gone all out for Halloween for as long as I can remember. It was only a matter of time, though, before my love of Edgar Allan Poe, Alfred Hitchcock, and Snickers caught up with me, too...yes, I love Halloween.
To celebrate this year, I dressed up as the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, one of my favorite books from when I was a kid. I made my own ears, rocked a pair of overalls, drew on whiskers and a little nose, and stuck a cookie (made of paper) in my pocket. And true to character, all day long, I craved a glass of milk to go with my cookie. I went to class, work, my internship at Darkness to Light, and my ESL class dressed as a mouse...I had no shame. It was Halloween! I am proud to say I elicited several smiles as people saw me walking down the street and when I entered a room.
The grand finale of my day caught me off guard. I thought the festivities were long over, and I was ready to wipe the drawn-on eyeliner off my nose. I was in a deserted frozen yogurt shop where my roommate, Courtney, works, waiting patiently for her to finish closing. Unexpectedly, she turned the music up, and recognition rolled over me: "Shout" by Tears for Fears. It was a beckoning back to our "American Duos: Shawn as Curt Smith and Gus as Michael Jackson" costume from last year. We danced in the classic Shawn and Gus fashion. No idea what I'm talking about? Here's a video to catch you up:
Anyway, one of the main reasons I love Halloween is that it is a celebration of childhood. For adults, it is the only day in the year where it is acceptable to "play dress up" and eat absurd amounts of candy. For me, as a child, I definitely exercised these freedoms more than just on Halloween. Halloween was the pinnacle of piecing together fun costumes and sitting on the floor surrounding myself with discarded candy wrappers until my stomach was swollen with sugary bliss. Remember trading pieces of candy with your friends? Remember the disappointment of getting a box of raisins or peppermint? Remember cold Halloweens where you just ended up wearing a coat over your costume as you trick-or-treated? Remember suspending disbelief and being genuinely terrified by every elongated shadow, yet finding nothing but joy in the terror?
I'm thinking a lot about childhood these days and what it means to reclaim it. With my work at Darkness to Light, I've learned a lot about child sexual abuse and the damage it does not only to a person's childhood but also to their future. There's something really freeing about looking back at the happy moments of your childhood, reflecting on the innocence and the intensity coloring every experience. I want to be more childlike in my everyday...not in the sense that I am immature and irresponsible, but that I really dig my toes into the dirt without worrying about getting dirty. I am currently planning an event for the spring centered around reclaiming childhood through the lens of child abuse as part of the Bonner Leader Program's Engage and Empower week.
So do me a favor and start thinking about your childhood. What are your favorite memories? What did you like to do most of all? What did you dream of becoming when you grew up? Who were your best friends? What was your favorite food? What music did you dance around to? What were your most painful moments? How did they shape you?
Tell me...what do you want to reclaim about your childhood?
The goodbyes of my freshman year lasted for an eternity. I feel like the goodbyes began a month ago when everyone began to see the light at the end of this semester's tunnel. It began with the last BCM, my last day at the Children's Museum. my last ESL class, my last time doing discipleship with Katie (we ate at Poe's and talked...it was a good last). I know that I'll return in the fall to do it all over again, but it still felt like too much closure all at once.
And then it came time to say goodbye to the people in my life. Some of them I knew I'd see this summer. Some I knew would be mostly absent from my life for the entire summer. And some I knew would not be returning in the fall. I hate goodbyes. If we're being completely honest, though, few people genuinely like goodbyes, right? I avoided them as much as possible during my last week, carefully selecting the phrases "I'll see you later" and "I'll talk to you soon" instead of submitting to the goodbye.
An incredible last day in Charleston surpassed my expectations: Star Wars marathons, sushi, sitting in my car just talking with my roommate for hours in the dark. But the next morning, when my roommate and I stood outside our dorm room which had been completely emptied of our stuff but not our memories, the goodbyes hit hard. I just stood there, clutching my fish bowl and a broom as she pulled the door of Buist 404 closed for the final time. I drove out of Charleston blasting the Passion Awakening CD. It was unbelievably dusty in my car and I involuntarily teared up a little. (That's a lie. I cried like a baby through the first six songs on the CD and then sniffled the rest of the way home.)
Freshman year was over.
I happily said goodbye forever to chemistry, math, the semi-warm showers of Buist....
The rest of my goodbyes, though, were a little more bittersweet. I don't know what next year will hold. But I've officially given in to the goodbyes of freshman year.
