Once again, the last few days have felt particularly hard for me and, perhaps, for many of you. In case you haven't been following, President Trump sent a series of tweets and, subsequently, has had a series of comments regarding four women in congress (and others) with the sentiment that sounds eerily like "go back to your country." You knew this would send us into a frenzy of hot takes, comments, opinions, and, of course, blog posts. I've waited my place in line and now I'm hoping you still have some space in your mind and thoughts to hear me out. It won't be too long, I promise.
(sigh) This one hurts. A lot of comments in recent years have hurt. But this one stings because it hits close to home. I come from a family of immigrants (don't we all?). A family that came to this country in search of a better life than the one they had. It was hard. In fact, it was scary and lonely for several people in my family. I'm the beneficiary of hard work and sacrifice. The story I was told growing up sounded a lot like, "we did this so that you could have it better than us." This is not to say that your story is less or your family's life wasn't as hard as mine. I'm just telling you about my family's story.
Anyway, it's hard for me to read "go back" and "you can leave." To be honest, the President is speaking to people who are very similar to me. Whose families are not white, were maybe not born here, but who have worked their butts off to represent themselves as proudly as possible.
I've been asked, "no, where are you really from?"
To which I said, "uhh... Los Angeles, CA. Boyle Heights? You've probably never heard of Boyle Heights, right?"
What I was really being told was, "You don't look like me. You don't sound like me. Your skin's definitely darker, therefore, you must not be from here." And, no, I was not misunderstanding this person's intent with his question. When I said my family had origins in Mexico and Nicaragua he said, "Yeah, that's what I meant." (shrugs and sighs, honestly). And more recently I had an experience where someone told me they "unfortunately" lived in a predominantly Mexican community. More sighs. Sometimes I don't even know what to say.
The hardest thing for me, and I'll end with this, is that disconnection is happening strongly across this country. Just read any social media feed and you'll find yourself bursting with anger.
How could people be like this? What the heck is wrong with us?
I have to admit that I'm probably not that far off, though I wouldn't consider myself a troll. What I mean is that I am also imperfect. I have my views and opinions which are not fully informed. I wish I was better informed, honestly. And I work on that. The truth is that we can all be a little more informed... and empathetic and understanding and nonjudgemental and kind.
And kind.
So the last days have felt terrible. I've read too many posts and watched too many videos on how one side of the aisle is worse than the other (and vice versa). What I have come to know over the years, however, is that empathy and connection are not built online (ironically, this blogpost is online). But that empathy and connection are built through stories and experiences. My hope in you reading this is not that you would side with me or change your viewpoints. I bet your views and opinions are solid and based on true experiences. My hope in sharing is that you would read parts of my story and think, "well maybe there's something I just haven't considered yet. Let me look into it."
I hope you feel connected. I hope you feel challenged. I'm hoping to feel these things, too. In the process, I hope you find someone to share your story with. And I hope we all find the courage to grow a little more empathetic, kind, and loving with one another.