Blending My Worlds

Wow. Since I started this project I’ve gone from a single woman in an entry level job to a mom and wife with a burgeoning career. It’s required some additional attention away from the rest of the world, but the purpose of this project has always been at the forefront of every day.

For example, as I am expecting my first child with my American born husband, we have been talking about his/her name. I want him/her to have and Ethiopian name. At the same time, this book project has taught me that identity is something each person has to make for him/her self. I wish I could jump into the future and ask the baby after it’s grown up what name he/she wants. At the same time, I know that a name is so powerful it shapes our identity to a certain extent as well.

Balancing these two heritages for my child, Ethiopian and African American, is another opportunity for my husband and myself to think deeper about identity, what it means to us, and what we want it to mean to our children. I would love a name that balances these two heritages… but what?

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Movie “An Ethiopian Love” Expands what it means to be “Ethiopian”

This past Gena, my roommate and I found ourselves with nowhere to go.  My Americanized family only does the western calendar and her family had broken from tradition and was not doing their usual family gathering.  Both of us felt out of sorts and longing for something so we called up our usual small group of Eritrean & Ethiopian friends and asked them to come over for dinner.  We spent the day cooking wot and other deliciousness laughing at how long it had been since either of us had a good enough reason to engage this labor intensive process.  It was short notice so the spread wasn’t as wide as would normally be the case but it worked.

Around 8pm our crew gathered at the crib and we indulged in the food, the conversation, and each other.  This is a motley crew of Ethiopians and Eritreans who have spent significant enough sections of our lives outside our country of birth.  Among the group I had probably spent the least amount back home.  This is a group of late 20s and early 30-somethings that lives an eclectic blend of that and this culture.    This group feels home for me because we each straddle at least two worlds.

After dinner and wine we settled in the living room and my friend Danny, one of the crew who is as comfortable on the Ethiopian side of the straddled line as he is on the American side, showed us the trailer of the latest “habesha movie” to come out.  It felt like my heart skipped a beat as it saw this:

 

The definition of what it means to be Ethiopian just broadened a bit to include more of us who want to be included but don’t know if we are allowed in the “Ethiopian” club.  To go back to my experience growing up (birth to age 4 in Ethiopia, age 4 to 9 in Wageningen , Netherlands, and age 9 to now in the U.S.) I always called myself Ethiopian but never realized how westernized I was until after fully immersing myself into the young adult Ethiopian community of Atlanta post graduate school.  I still claim Ethiopian (rather than Ethiopian American for example) but who am I trying to kid?  Maybe it’s because I only know young adults in Atlanta (there are rumors of our peers in New York and California being “different” than Ethiopians in the A) but most of the Ethiopian women my age around here are quite different from me (minus the small group I keep around me).  I see several of what appear to be like minded women in passing but for some reason we don’t really reach out to one another.  Maybe we have all grown tired of the ridicule, the “you don’t know about this?”, the sense of feeling not “Ethiopian enough” to be accepted.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw this trailer because for many young Ethiopians growing up in the U.S., some of whom may be just as uninformed about back home as Yoni’s character in the movie, this film says you can still claim Ethiopian while doing you.

Hear me when I say, I’m not talking about the plot.  I haven’t seen this film so I can’t say what message it will send out to many eager young (western) Ethiopians who see their faces, interests, English preference, style, & music reflected back to them all at once on the big screen for the first time.  These are young people who don’t see themselves in mainstream western media (though we notice random moments like the Ethiopian soap opera star in the U.S. or the Habesha VJ on Italian MTV).  Nor do they see their thoughts, culture, language skills, or humor reflected in Ethiopian movies.  For once their two worlds will converge in a validating public forum that says – yes, you mixed cultural young Ethio-American – you are another face of what it means to be a young Ethiopian living in the west.  For better or worse your experiences are just as valid as anyone else’s that has been represented on the big screen.

I speak to you, the “mixed up” young Ethiopian who is unsure of how your cultures and experiences fit together.  You are welcome at the table of so called “Ethiopians”.  Sit alongside those who have a strong sense of who they are as Ethiopians.  You are part of the tapestry, the different faces, the different experiences of what it means to be of Ethiopia descent.

Idealistic Hope

I have been called idealistic at times and though I do not refute this label, I still believe that without some sort of blind hope big change would never occur. The responsibility of making a change comes in educating yourself so you act smart and expend your energy in the right place. This balance is one I constantly struggle with. As an Ethiopian-American working with underpriveleged youth in Georgia, I feel pulled in different directions. There is so much I can do for my people around the globe but it seems that oppurtunities are rare that allow me to do both at the same time. Monies are allocated for particular populations so I have to apply for grants in twice as many places. There must be a way to take on this challenge to find a way to work smart. There must be a way to connect these two worlds of mine which only are separated to others. To me these two worlds co-exist. A hungry mouth is a hungry mouth regardless of the language it speaks. An uneducated child is an uneducated child regardless of the continent she lives on. So, I am writing to you today to ask what your ideas are. How have you engendered change in two places at once and do you even think this is possible?

Standing by,

Liya

Yonas Hagos – A Quintessential Ethiopian American

HEROES AMONG US: Colin Powell with (clockwise from left) Tom Corey, Yonas Hagos, Tracy Garner, Sarah Letts-Smith, Vartkess Tarbassian, Bob Kessler.   Photo was obtained from http://www.parade.com/news/veterans/articles/six-vets-six-wars.html?index=1 

Yonas Hagos, born in Sudan of Ethiopian parents, came to the U.S. at the age of 10.  He joined the army after September 11 attacks to give back to a nation that gave him and his family a place to call home.  Yonas earned a Purple Heart when he was injured in Iraq after a rocket-propelled grenade hit the vehicle he was traveling in.

Read his and other veterans’ thoughts on their military experience through Parade magazine.

You can also read about the life he is builder after returning from the war here.

Back to work

When this project began, I knew it would be a journey beyond the reach of my imagination at the time. Boy was I right. Since then, I have gone back to school full time, gotten engaged and married and moved into a new house with my husband. It’s almost as though I’m not the same person I was at that time. When life pummels you like this it is hard to find the time to reflect and process what is happening. Changes in your values, beliefs and character may seem abrupt to others but to you, it is almost as though they have snuck by your conscious thought. How did I get here? You might ask yourself.

As I have been adjusting to my new life roles, my sister and I have been overwhelmed with obligations. Now, however, the dust has settled and we are finishing up this amazing journey of publishing this book. As we have met other authors and editors, we see the range of processes by which works are published. Some finish in a matter of months while others take many years to complete a book. Each journey, though, is its own. Not only does it have its own range of time to come to life, but it is also defined by the time it takes to come to life. What do I mean? The way a project like this happens is in its own time. The time we have spent tending to life has enabled me to apply the many ideas and concepts introduced to me through this project to major events in my life. I would have never been able to articulate to my American husband what my Ethiopian identity means to me in a way for him to understand before this project. Going back to school, I am able to understand these Eurocentric lessons through multiple lenses. Like watching a movie in 3-D.

As the review process comes to an end, we will be contacting submitters with an update about whether their pieces were chosen for the final publication. We then hope to have the book ready to be sold within a few months of the final decision. We thank you all for your patience and sharing this journey with us. We hope that the final book will bring as much understanding, clarity and meaning in your lives as well.

Doing Big Things: Walking For A Cure

A very good friend of mine, Fasika Belaineh, is stepping up to help fight breast cancer.  How many of you are familiar with the Susan B. Komen 3 Day For The Cure?  For those who are not familiar with the program, the website describes the process as follows:

Thousands of women and men come together, each raising money for Susan G. Komen for the Cure^®. Then they take their commitment to end breast cancer one step further and walk 60 miles over the course of three days.

Net proceeds from the 3-Day for the Cure fund innovative global breast cancer research and local community programs supporting education, screening and treatment. Virtually every major advance in the fight against breast cancer in the last 28 years has been impacted by a Komen for the Cure grant.

In Fasika’s own words:

I am doing this walk because I think it is a wonderful cause.  I believe that the cure is close and any contribution that I can make would hopefull allow them to meet their goal so that great steps can be made.  I know several co-workers that are going through chemotherapy and it just makes me sad for them and their families but it also makes me hopeful that if we can create treatments such as chemo then we cant be too far away to beat it completely.

Each participant agrees to raise at least $2,300 in order to even walk the 60 miles.  I am so proud of my friend for taking on such a physical, mental, and financial challenge and I want to do all I can to support her and this very worthy cause.  This is why I ask you to help her raise her $2,300.  In fact, I wonder if we can not raise this to $5000?  How many of us have been touched by cancer either directly or indirectly?  We have to fight against this disease in every way we can. 

As the gentleman in the video said, there are two choices.  In our case it is whether to donate or not.  Whether you can give $1.00 or $100.00 every little bit helps.  Use the link below to make donations directly to the organization under Fasika’s name:

http://www.the3day.org/site/TR/2011/AtlantaEvent2011?px=5748205&pg=personal&fr_id=1610

In the Doing Big Things series we have been highlighting people who have taken on big projects and goals – but this is a first where we can all be congratulated…that is, if you choose to be an active participant.

Even if you can’t participate by sending money please pass along the link to this page or Fasika’s donation page to everyone and anyone!

Thank you in advance for all your help!

Mahlet

Doing Big Things: A Message from Rebecca Emiru

The following was written by Rebecca Emiru:

I’m in a competition to win a fantastic scholarship to work on social entrepreneurship, and I need your vote to win! The contest ends this Monday January 31 and I’m currently in second place with over 1,200 votes! You can vote at http://thinkimpact.org/innovation-institute-scholarship-contest/ by scrolling down to my name (Rebecca Emiru) and clicking on my picture. Each person can vote once. Thank you so much for your support!

I was raised in Addis Ababa and I am a senior political science major at Amherst College. I hope to use the skills I learn from this program to initiate a career in development in East Africa and Ethiopia in particular. So cast your vote and support a young person trying to make a difference!

Thankfully,
Rebecca Emiru

Innovation Institute Scholarship Contest | ThinkImpact: People-Powered Global Development
thinkimpact.org

One of these applicants will win a full scholarship to the Innovation Institute, worth $6000. These applicants are truly extraordinary. They comprise our most competitive, fascinating and inspiring class of scholars to date. One started and runs an investment group, a socially minded tourist agency

Music and Culture

               

 The violin is known for being one of the more challenging instruments to master. This is just one of the many reasons I chose her to be my musical companion. Pianos have keys. Guitars have frets. There is a promise that if you hit this one key, the same note will always sound out. A fret works in much the same way. But, if you have ever looked closely at the finger board of a violin, you see that it is fretless. This means that music is no longer limited to a set number of notes- it becomes a spectrum and limitless opportunities to hear a violin laugh, flirt and even wail just like a police siren. Yet another reason I chose her. Finally, she is small and delicate, but do not underestimate her power and strength. We are alike in that way and that is why she chose me. She knew that once she lured me in, allowed my small fingers to feel the wood of her neck under their tips, allowed the cool of her chin rest to send vibrations through the underbelly of my chin- our intimacy would not be breached. I picked up my first violin in the second grade when I learned how to play open strings, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and Hot Cross Buns. I began training intensely in the 5^th grade at the age of 11.  At the end of the first year, I made it to second chair- meaning the only person who played the music with more precision than me was a girl who had been taking private lessons since the age if eight. When I matriculated to junior high, I was placed in the most advanced of 4 levels offered. I was nowhere near the front where the 8^th graders sat with their prestigious titles, but I was just out of 6^th grade and still very happy with my progress.

                Our move to Atlanta put a halt on my accelerated advancements in technique and music. All of a sudden I was in an environment where I sounded better than the teacher. Even though, I did not quit and earned the best musician of the year award. Then another move to Watkinsville, Georgia yielded a school that did not have an orchestra program at all and I promised my father I would quit school if I could not continue playing my instrument. He spoke to the band director and they all agreed to let me play the oboe part in the band. That year, the marching band even played songs from The Fiddler on the Roof, which gave me an opportunity to prance on the field wearing white stockings, black Capri pants, a hand woven vest and a cango hat.

                I did not major in music like I wanted to, but I never gave up my violin. As you can imagine, I am not the most proficient player having only had real guidance for the first two years I played. However, I knew I had a gift-  others call it my ear. The slightest movement on the fingerboard yields a change in pitch that most people can not pick up. I do. I know when she is feeling flat or sharp in the slightest way. When I hear a song on the radio, it doesn’t take too much work to pick up the melody and anticipate the next notes. It is as though she guides my fingers the exact distance to find the note that sounds the best next; a concerted effort. I finally purchased my first electric violin a couple of months ago and I had my first performance. I still need some time to learn the levels and pedals and so forth but it was one of the most meaningful moments of my life. I loved every second of it and the thrill I got reminded me that sometimes, it is worth it to defy our parents who would tell us not to follow particular dreams because their experiences had not afforded them the opportunity to do so. However, they struggled and fought and sacrificed to put us in a position where we can, actually, pursue some of our more non-traditional talents. I knew that one day, they would see me on stage and realize that my investment in this instrument is not, in fact, superfluous, but instead it is an investment in a God given talent. Perhaps they would go as far as to realize that these  gifts, meted out in small portions, are to be honored and cultivated, not put on a shelf to collect dust. Anyway, you can judge for yourself. Just follow this link to see a portion of the act I performed. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkBAUJMutf0

 I hope you love it as much as I do!

Dr. Mehret Mandefro: A Beautiful Example of “All of Us”

Tonight I found myself with some time alone. My roommate is in Ethiopia and after spending all of last night in the company of two of my closest girlfriends I was feeling a bit alone. I spent the day busying myself paying the bills, cleaning, cooking some wot (you KNOW I was really trying to distract myself when I make a whole pot full for just me…), and suddenly it was night and there wasn’t anything else left to do. God bless Netflix because it provided the perfect distraction. I wanted to find something to watch for maybe a half hour or hour. Enough time to prepare my hair for the night and finish the glass of wine I had been nursing since dinner.

Well, it is now 11:46pm and I should have been in bed with the lights out an hour ago. Why am I still up? I unexpectedly found the documentary “All of Us”  on Netflix and I was completely taken away by the personal and professional story of the young Dr. Mehret Mandefro and the women who shared their struggles of being HIV positive black women in America. In short, this documentary follows the Harvard educated physician as she explores why African American women represent a disproportionate percentage of new HIV cases. She does this by educating the audience about HIV in the U.S. and Ethiopia and by sharing the lives of two of her African American patients.

As I write this let me put a disclaimer on what’s to come. Let me say that everyone, especially African and African American women….hell – all women, should watch this documentary because the role we have been given in society is putting us at higher risk for HIV acquisition. As a mental health professional I was drawn to and taught by Dr. Mandefro’s analysis of the societal circumstances of why this dynamic is playing out. As a social justice advocate I am ignited by the fact that people are not talking about this enough despite years of data showing that this population is at higher risk. However, for the sake of this post I am going to focus on Dr. Mandefro’s presence and open stance. This blog is about the young Ethiopian and Eritrean members of western society and how we are choosing to build an identity for ourselves. I am inspired by how Dr. Mandefro chooses to live her life.

According to the documentary Dr. Mandefro came to the U.S. at a young age. From what I can tell she appears to have followed the script that many of us are given. Do well in school, become a (fill in here: doctor, engineer, etc.), and make your parents proud. So why am I so taken by Dr. Mandefro when she seems like another successful Ethiopian American? Well, she is intelligent, beautiful, and doing very important work but that’s not it. Not to take away from the doctor, but we have plenty of intelligent and beautiful women who are doing very important things in our community. I was taken by Dr. Mandefro because of the ways that she chose to deviate from the Eri/Ethio script that we all could recite in our sleep. The portion she deviates from is the portion that tells us don’t share too much of yourself and your personal life since showing any imperfections takes away from the expected image (read: pure, intelligent, innocent, etc., etc., etc.). Dr. Mandefro instead chooses candor, accessibility, an ability to move between her own professional world and that of her low income African American patients, and an equal embrace of her “privileged” friends as well as her struggling patients. As the documentary unfolded I found Dr. Mandefro engaging and just a joy to observe. In watching her I saw a woman I hope to be like. Unasuming, passionate, who grows from her own mistakes, who is not ashamed to share her mistakes, who values all, and who is trying to do something about a problem that is so huge people expect her contributions to be too small to make an impact. Her response to this last point? “Why not try.”

Something else I appreciate about Dr. Mandefro is that she appears to accept herself imperfections and all. Too many times in our community people are expected to put on an air of perfection. In our community it is dangerous to expose your imperfections because people tend to amplify that so your intentions and accomplishments suddenly are diminished. However, in discussing HIV and black women Dr. Mandefro shares her own personal dating life and the regretted decisions she has made. In doing so she stays true to the whole point of this documentary: that we, all black women, are in the same boat when it comes to risk for HIV infection due to the place and power we are (aren’t?) given in today’s society whether it be in the U.S. or Ethiopia. She could have told this story without sharing her own personal life, but in doing so she makes the problem more relevant to a priveledged educated Ethiopian American woman like myself.

Dr. Mandefro, if you ever happen to see this post I want to say keep up the good work. Keep being true to yourself. Keep sharing your life with us as long as it does not hurt you. You are an inspiration to me and many more. Your candor and transparency are a breath of fresh air and I commend you for your strength. Strength in speaking your convictions, strength in not being ashamed of who you are, and strength to follow the path you feel you have been led to.
As I close – I leave you with some relevant quotes from The Alchemist:

Courage is the quality most essential to understanding the Language of the World.
The Alchemist
The alchemist to Santiago.

“There is only one way to learn,” the alchemist answered. “It’s through action. Everything you need to know you have learned through your journey.”
The Alchemist

People are afraid to pursue their most important dreams, because they feel that they don’t deserve them, or that they’ll be unable to achieve them.
The Alchemist

If someone isn’t what others want them to be, the others become angry. Everyone seems to have a clear idea of how other people should lead their lives, but none about his or her own.
The Alchemist

From Privilege to Change

I am a spoiled and ignorant woman of great privilege not just globally, but throughout the known history of mankind. Not only do I not have to worry about where my next meal comes from, but I can also control the temperature of the air around me, the amount and temperature of water I want/need in any given moment, and I wear a freshly laundered and different outfit every day of the week, maybe even month. Now that that has been said, let us dissect the meaning of privilege in different contexts and how we privileged individuals can best carry this privilege with the guilt and responsibility which trails after it like cosmic dust after a comet. Then, let us further disabuse the notion that privilege is synonymous with blessing; though these two constructs may have overlapping meanings at times.

As I mentioned in my last article, I have always had my basic needs taken care of. I have always managed to pay my rent and car note, insurance and school loans. Now, I am certainly not asking for a medal for I am well aware that my hard work is only a piece of my privilege. Most people on this earth work as hard and even more diligently than I work. My circumstances, which have nothing to do with my hard work, are certainly the key components to my personal privilege. That being said, I am, however, a multicontextual being. We all are. We exist beneath, within and around the multiple layers which make up our person. How many of us are able to function in many culturally varying contexts? I can speak Amharic and greet my elders at an Ethiopian gathering. I can also engage in debate with my professor, who will even let an expletive or two slip from my mouth out of passion, frustration, or pure comic relief. My awareness of my privilege and awareness of life outside of my privileged life is what prompts me to thrive in my “North Americanized” life full of deadlines and expectations of mass production which drives this capitalist society.

As I am trying to express the relativity of such things as privilege, a particular example comes to mind. I’ve spoken to many people in Ethiopia who have and have not come to the United States for various reasons. Som have expressed an unrealistic idea of life in the United States. Credit scores, visas, passwords, building keys, health insurance, disability, gay and civil rights, financing options, field trip release forms, credit card debt, over-time, night-shifts, minimum wage, judicial representation, license plates and drivers licenses, child abuse laws, animal rights, individualism, BET, saturated fats, etc… I am not implying that none of these daily expectations of ours do not exist in Ethiopia. However, the United States operates under a system which keeps tight control over who will enjoy all the benefits of being a citizen and if you come to the States expecting the full ranges of privilege automatically, you may be in for an unpleasant surprise. If you want the good ‘ol American Dream, you absolutely have to jump through hoops and make very personal sacrifices to attain this life-style. If you do not cooperate with the system, your options can become alarmingly limited.

My point can be summed up in one word; relativity. Privilege is relative. There are many privileges I do not have in the U.S. because I am not a member of the majority. This injustice should not be ignored for the mere fact that I am a global member of the most privileged as well. Instead, it should serve as a catalyst for putting my own privilege into perspective. This process is one which has no attainable end in sight because, when it comes down to it, I do not know what real hunger feels like. I do not know what it is like to work my own land or to have to beg for money just to survive. I do not know the expectation of being a mother at a young age or the lack of opportunity for education. To claim to know these experiences is pretentious. To expect myself to understand these experiences is unrealistic. But to acknowledge the truth of and accurately perceive my contextual layers and limitations is the first step to carrying my privilege. To respect those who tread paths I may never experience without needless pity but humble admiration of their strength is the second step to carrying my privilege. To be content with myself as I work hard and strive for those universal values I have built for myself within my contextual understanding is the third step to carrying my privilege.

Finally, to be able to name the blessings which have come out of my experience, those blessings which are intertwined with my privilege and those blessings which transcend any privilege, like love and compassion, is the final step to carrying my privilege. When we are first made aware of our privilege, guilt and fear are temporary emotions which fade only with our ignorance. However, to carry privilege in a way that respects everyone else, guilt and fear must be minimized. We should focus on the opportunity and responsibility which comes with our privilege. Only then will we be able to extract the deepest blessings tucked away in that privilege as we dodge the human phenomena of ignorance and complacency.

As multicontextual beings, we can likely all find areas in our lives where we are privileged with particular rights, opportunities and resources. We can all also find areas in our lives where we grieve certain losses we experience. We must balance our expectations of ourselves with the responsibility we have to our fellow man in order to recognize, name and attain our true blessings.  Only at this crossroad can privilege and blessing share the same manifestation.