Accents and prejudice, thoughts thereof

"So when did you realize that I was smart?"

The question took me completely off guard. What? I don't usually assume people are idiots, although I have been informed I would be a lot happier with life if I did that.

"Was it when I told you I graduated Summa Cum Laude, or did you manage to figure it out before then?"
"Oh, I had figured it out right after I met you."
"Really?" My friend seemed genuinely surprised. "How'd you figure that?"
"Um," I had to snigger at that point, "I'm a psychologist's kid. I know what signs of intelligance to look for."
"Such as?"
The conversation continued but it struck me as odd that it was assumed that I would automatically label someone as having a low intelligence before discovering more about them.
The reason this person assumed this was because of the accent with which this person spoke. It was a decidedly Appalachian accent.

Now, I have traveled to a few different countries and met people from lots of different walks in life. And yet I have never ever encountered such a question from any of the various people groups I've interacted with. Now, granted, some were less expressive and verbose as others. I was warned by my Hungarian host brother to be CAREFUL when I spoke Romanian, as the Romanians would make fun of a person if the correct pronounciation wasn't used. I detected an undercurrent of bad experience in history in that statement, coupled with some other revealing reminiscences at other times. Transylvania has a rather chaotic history with the Romanians and Hungarians, who both claim rights to that tract of land, and Language is one way people hone in on differences.
I did experience something similar when I was talking with two African American classmates. They were comparing notes on inner-city missions, and I asked one if a question about a Halloween ministry. They had planned one, but had to cancel. My other friend spoke up and explained that his church had a ministry and what they were doing.
"oh! I thought you two went to the same church!" Now, the reason why I thought that was not because they were both African Americans, but because I had seen them act very familiar with each other and talk about ministries that seemed so similar that I thought it was the same one. They both laughed and said, NO, they went to separate churches. Just because they were both black (their words, not mine) I shouldn't think they did EVERYTHING together. They were individuals too.
"I didn't think you were part of the same church because you were both black, I thought it was because I've heard you talking about your ministries and thought it was the same one."
They let it go but I'm not sure if they believed me or not.
This part of the world seems to have several layers to the social life. I was thinking about it today as I hung out with a dear friend of mine and her family. The father is of british descent although very much American, and the mother is originally from the Philippines, but grew up in California. Their daughter is a computer and ancient linguistic whiz who is currently undergoing the process of applying for Wycliffe Bible translators. They are a very interesting family and have blessed my socks off since I arrived in college. Introducing me to amazing things such as Stargate Atlantis and NCIS, and the Chicago deep-dish pizza resturaunt. :-)
However, the mom has a little bit of a fix when trying to socialize here. She has forgotten most if not all her Tagalog, yet looks very filipino. So she doesn't quite fit in with the other filipinos here in town. However, at some churches she will be avoided because she is obviously 'different.' People will say hi to her husband and daughter, but not so much to her.

I understand that the South tends to cling to their legendary 'genteelity' and I've heard the phrase "The South will rise again!" in half jest. One girl confessed to me that she had been fairly certain that she and I wouldn't be friends, as she was sure that I was a 'yank' and her 'people' were most decidedly from south of the Mason-Dixon line. But once she discovered that, while I was born on the East coast, I grew up in the West, which was far better than the North, and we could therefore be friends.

Now, while there is the assuing element of humor in these discussions, the underlying tone piques my interest.
I have yet another friend here at school who is from Nigeria. I had a few Nigerian friends at the International Church I went to in Romania, and really appreciated their friendship. They were warm and jovial and had intriguing perspectives on theology and doctrine. So I talked with this new student for a little during the class break that day and the next, and whenever I saw him was sure to say hi and ask how he was doing. I had discovered that he had a wife and two kids back and Nigeria, and asked him about them when I saw him.
A few months later I saw him again and was introducing him to a new friend of mine I was hanging out with who had just returned from the mission field and just started school. My Nigerian friend shook the new acquaintance's hand vigorously and exclaimed,
"You will really like this girl. When I first came here, she made me feel SOOO welcome! She is kind and hospitible. You are really lucky to be her friend."
Hunh? Seriously? By simply saying, 'hey, how ya doin? How's the wife and kids?'
Yet when I think of it, the only other people I ever see engaged in conversation are the other Africans he works with, or the family I mentioned earlier with the Filipino mom.

What is predjudice? When I think of it, my first thought is Jim Crow laws and lynchings as depicted in Huck Finn. However, after a conversation with a friend who just joined ROTC and is currently living in Detroit, I realize more deeply that prejudice often takes far more subtler forms.
Of course it is found all over the world, in every culture and region. Yet the type I've encountered here is different from the one up North.
My parents have been in the North for just a few years shy of a decade, and I must say that I am not a fan of the neighborhood full of Norse descendants. Their prejudice is not a vibrant, easily pin-pointed type. Its masked in smiles, yet reveals itself through the lack of interaction that people group engages in with people from outside their immediate family circle. There may be ties of allegience to those outside their immediate family, but then again they may take advantage of their close kin to come out on top in a business deal, leaving their relatives in the dust. Yet when disaster strikes a church member, the whole congregation rallies together to make heroic, unexpected moves of generosity and help. Once they deem the crisis over, however, they delve back into their hobbit holes and will make great exhultations and commotions about the need to get together and socialize, and then do nothing to follow through with their promises and assurances of deep lasting friendship.
In the South, it is a little more tangent. The condescention is not overt, yet still there. The friend mentioned at the very beginning of the post had experienced the constant need to either prove intelligence despite accent or just deal with the assumtions from others that he didnt have a lot between his ears.

I have no idea what to do with all these observations. I sometimes feel a little like Esther depicted in One Night With The King; 'Are you crazy? This is not just you against (insert opposing character's name), this is you against the protocol! This is you against an Empire! Why do you think you, one person, is going to change centuries of tradition?!"
In Romania it seemed to my young mind rather easy. Targeted people group gets saved, GOd sactifies them out of their small-mind-ed-ness. Of course it was far more complicated than that, but to sum up, there it is.
Yet this is amongst fellow Believers; not only that, but Believers who are loudly proclaiming their desire to serve the Lord. This is supposed to be the 'Cream of the Crop' as it were. I am baffled how they think they are going to go overseas as missionaries when they don't even greet the foreigners in their midst.

I get a taste of it on a far smaller scale (like microscopically smaller) when I work in food service on campus. I wear the black apron and cap, I therefore am entitled to being subjugated to your bad attitude towards the menu and lack of your preferences therein. They are perfectly fine, sweet, and considerate when I'm not in uniform. However get me in black and its all over with the formalities. This is not to say that every student who hops through our doors is awful, but there are a few times when I really wish I could dispense with the customer service and give them a good, western, frank-to-a-fault piece of my mind. All backed up with Scripture and said with the gentility of a lady and Christian sister, of course. Yet scathing none the less.

Now, this just comes with the territory of working in food service, I realize. However, I do apply it to my argument in that as a food server I am no longer capable of socializing in the normal way because I'm at work. I can offer a quick hello and get a nutshell-version of whatever updates they have to offer, but can't get the whole heart-to-heart talk. THerefore, abnormality is suddenly put into place and different dynamics arrive on the scene.

Now, this helps me understand a little better the dynamics put into play with my filipino and appalachian friend. Differences are detected, and the proper social protocols are no longer able to function at the black-and-white, easily-applied pace they were previously able to in the past.

I suppose it does take a certain kind of person who hops from one social circle to another and has a myriad of types of friends. Just like it takes a certain kind of person to globe-trot, containing everything necessary for existance in a few small bags, if not one.

However, if one is going to engage in ministry, one must realize that ministry is not done to people who are fine and comfortable for one to engage with. Sick people don't need doctors. Religion is not an opiate of masses (at least, the Christian one isn't), its intended to be physical therapy until we get to the other side. Therapists, of any sort, get to deal with the worst of their particular brand and help them become better. If they are blinded with indignation that they are not just peachy keen like the therapist, then how can they help them to get better?

I've run into trouble with these various friends I describe, because my attitude is, "I'm quirky in my own ways, you are quirky in your own ways. Lets make our quirkyness compatible, be friends, and have fun." However, I glaze over the years and years of history and hurt that has assimilated behind various neuoncis of culture, and unintentionally allude to something that brings insult.
The balancing act I'm trying to learn is how to encourage the barriers to drop to let forgiveness and healing and new opportunities to flood in; yet be sensitive to the fact that those barriers are there, and for good reason.

So all that to say. My life as a anthropological, psychological, and sociological observer continues to be interesting.
I hope none of this was communicated in an offensive way; they are merely observations that I'm externalizing for my own examination, curious if anyone has any feedback. If they come across as excessively emphatic or anything, its because I am actually pretty tired from traveling and reacquanting myself with old friends while preparing for a J-term next week. And I'm realizing that, for some reason, the one-hour time difference between here and my parent's is effecting my sleep schedule considerably. I'm not having any trouble getting up, just going to sleep.

But, all that to say, if you encounter someone with a unique accent, don't assume they are dumb. If you have a unique accent, don't assume that I assume you are dumb. At least, any dumber than I am. 'Cause if you think about it, we're all dumb; some more than others and with splashes of creativity and uniqueness in how the dumbness manifests itself. But dumb nonetheless. ;-)

~Princess Ouch~

Trip home summed up

Yeah, I think this about says it all. ;-)

How were your holidays?

Kendra and LOTR

Kendra was reading the section of "Fellowship of the Ring" where the Hobbits and Aragorn are fleeing the Black Riders after WeatherTop, trying to make it safely to Rivendell. Pippen - to whom I often relate - dashes back to the group reporting a Troll sighting. Aragorn says bravely, "Then let us go and meet them!" and picks up a stick.

Kendra stopped, as I was fairly sure she was, to interject.

"a STICK?! He's going to go after TROLLS with sticks?! What are they, his pet dogs??? Aragorn WOULD have a troll for a pet. What is wrong with him! He's got that dumb sword he never uses; what about THAT?"

"The sword is BROKEN, Kendra." I answered, choking back laughter.

"It's still got a pointy end! He could still use it to thrust into the enemy! What's wrong with him, I thought he was a WARRIOR and would KNOW THAT!!!"

With a huff and a harumph she continued, and then discovered that the Trolls were stone, and Aragorn new that.

"Well, he could at least stop being a pessimistic wet-blanket! He is so mean to those hobbits. Whats wrong with him!"

*sigh*

"Well, if you were fleeing black-riders and there was a good chance that the end of the world as you knew it were about to transpire, and the fate of said world rested in the hands of a happy-go-lucky-hobbit who kept getting into dire distress that only you could bail him out of, I suppose you'd be slightly grumpy, too."



This is merely a small sampling of the running commentary that flowed whilst Kendra read five chapters of Lord of the Rings out loud today. See, we're snow-locked during the beginning of Winter, and suddenly the ancient Scandinavian Bards and intricate carving and needle-work is making so much more sense now. I often wondered, when we lived in warmer climates, who on earth would have time to make all the detailed-sagas and life-like wood monsters and stone decorations that decorate Northern Europe. Having suffered long winters in the land in which that people goups descendants immigrated to, I suddenly understand.

You either become very certain of your opinions and create long, flowery stories to better communicate those opinions, or you almost loose the gift of speech altogether.



That being said, it is funny hearing Kendra's rendition of the heroes of Middle Earth. I got quite a bit done on the House-Blessing cross stitch I'm working on, Mom has discovered why Dad and I are so nuts about Tolkien, Ethan is entertained and getting his horizon broadened beyond mere Star Wars and Bionicles, and we are altogether having a fun time passing winter afternoons together.



Am soaking it all up before I have to squeeze all my creativity into organizing my life so that this next semester goes more smoothly academically and socially than last Semester.



~Princess Ouch~