Silence is Betrayal

After being subject to a racist rant this afternoon, it's about time I write about my life.

*All negative comments will be deleted*

Feel free to share.

I have had a complex relationship with race since the day I was born. Like I've stated many times before, I'm adopted. What does my adoption have to do with my race? Pretty much everything. It wasn't specified on my paperwork what the race of my biological father was; therefore, we don't really know for sure what my racial background is. My parents were able to meet my biological mother in the hospital and she was white so we know I'm at least half white. This lack of certainty has been the key aspect of my relationship with race. 

I have known I was adopted ever since I can remember so I always knew that I didn't look like my parents. I knew I wouldn't have my dad's eyes or my mom's nose. Nonetheless you guys wanna know the first realization I had that I didn't look like my parents? I was in first grade, learning about Ruby Bridges. For those of you who don't know who that is (which you should), she was the first black student integrated into a white school. At the end of the lesson on her life and her integration my teacher said to the class "if it wasn't for Ruby Bridges, McKinley wouldn't be able to go to this school." I vividly remember that. I was so confused, I thought to myself "what is she talking about, why wouldn't I be able to go to this school?" Like every first grader, I went home and told my parents, asking them what she meant. It was that comment that put things in perspective for me. I didn't look like my parents, not because I wasn't related to them, but because I was a different color than them. I was a six year old. 

For years, I can remember walking around the mall with my mom or my family members hoping that they wouldn't shop til they dropped. Without fail, someone would stop whoever I was with and say "wow, she's so beautiful, so exotic looking." I would sheepishly smile and my mom would say thanks and walk away. Now I know that people only called me exotic because I have dark skin, curly hair and blue eyes. I was exotic because I didn't look white, but I didn't look fully black either. Let me tell you one thing, I am not exotic. I am not a vacation destination. I am not a museum piece. I am not foreign.  If you see someone who looks "exotic" to you, do not call them that. Just don't. 

Now comes a very touchy subject for me. My hair.  For most of my life I had no idea what to do with my frizzy, unruly and mane-like curls. I didn't have any family members who had hair like mine. My mother, in no fault of her own, did her very best to make my hair presentable yet to no avail. My mom and I struggled for years and years with my curls. RIP to all of the hairbrushes broken in my hair. Much to my relief, when I was old enough, I got a straightener and began the process of destroying my hair. I would straighten my hair on Sunday then on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I would touch up the pieces that began to curl back up. Luckily for me, I don't have hair that gets oily so I wouldn't wash my hair until Friday after school, then I would put it in a bun on Saturday and Sunday I would spend a minimum of two hours straightening it again. 

Why did I spend two hours every Sunday for YEARS straightening my hair? No one at my school had hair like me. The pretty and popular girls in my class had stick straight, bleach blonde hair. I wanted to be as similar to them as possible so I killed my hair to be "pretty." If that isn't sad, I don't know what is. 

Praise Jesus that I found a hair stylist who taught me how to love my hair and I have embraced my frizzy, unruly and mane-like curls ever since. 

By this time, you're thinking "hmmm, is this story over yet?" NOPE. There's so much more. 

On a weekly basis, I am asked "what race are you?" "are you mixed?" "are you black?" "what are you?" "what ethnicity are you?" In all honesty, these questions don't bother me a whole lot, but if I had a dollar for every time I've been asked about my race I would have a solid $5000 in my savings account. It's absurd. I used to take it as a compliment, but I was uneducated back then. What people really want to know when they ask me what race I am is what category can they put me in. How can I most easily fit into the label they want to put on me. There's no reason anyone needs to know my race, it's not pertain information, but because I look mixed, I look black, people must know so that they feel more comfortable. 

You know what's funny to me? The fact that the one drop rule that we learned about in history class still VERY MUCH applies. I look black, therefore, I am black. That's my reality. Society doesn't see McKinley, the transracially adopted girl. They see someone who doesn't easily fit into the white category, or the black category, or the hispanic category, or any category so it confuses everyone. Most people already assume I'm black before they ask. I have fought through and struggled with my racial identity not only because I don't know my background but also because society has forced that struggle upon me. I am black and I am proud. 

I have said in the past, that I will never speak as if I know the harsh realities of racism because I don't. I live a complex racial life, but the vast majority of the time I don't experience the negatives that the black community faces. Today was different. 

Today, I had a conversation with a man who told me that he is disgusted with black men and women in the US and that black countries and cultures are inferior. He wholeheartedly believes that blacks are lazy, dishonest and inferior. He assured me that he's not a racist because he will employ anyone regardless of their skin color. Over the course of the conversation, my intellect, education, gender, age, and race were all attacked and belittled. I was speaking with a 72 year old white man, who studied for 14 years and has published a handful of books. I am a 22 year old, mixed, female who went to college for four years, therefore, ALL of my comments were dismissed. This man is a Christian and self-professing non-racist. It was mind blowing to me that he still maintains that blacks are inferior. What he doesn't realize, and what I was too flustered to educate him on is that he is in fact a racist. The definition of racism according to Merriam Webster is:  "a belief that race is the primary determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race" by stating that he believes blacks are inferior, he is in turn, emphasizing his own superiority. He's a racist. 

Ladies and gents, racism is alive and well in this country. Unless you live under a rock, you should know that. I am an out-spoken person regardless of the subject. That being said, I will not be silent about the injustice I encounter, but that others encounter so much more. I tell my stories so that racism and the realities of mixed-life hit home for you. It can be hard to understand that racism isn't a big grandiose idea, but something that impacts the lives of millions of people, even people you call friends. 

Unity Makes Strength

As a 22 year old, I have travelled to seven different countries, seen God work in marvelous ways, and witnessed incredible injustice. Every time I visit a new country, I try to see life from its citizen's perspective. While in Haiti, I did just that. 

I was so happy to be able to travel overseas for the first time in two years! I had never been to Haiti so I was pumped to experience something completely new. Many people have asked me what I was doing while I was there. Basically, there was a changing in leadership so I travelled there to participate in and help in the transition from one leader to the other. Nelson, the newest country lead coach for Haiti, was there to meet our Haitian staff and local heroes for the first time. We toured each program, all of which are schools. We were able to distract the kids from their school work just long enough to hear their practice, their English and or sing us a song or two. 

I could blab on for days about all the cool things I was able to experience there, but I won't bore you. I'll just explain something that has been on my heart since leaving. 

For those of you who don't know, Haiti is a country where voodoo and witchcraft practices pervade all of society. Some areas of the country are more prone to practicing voodoo and or witchcraft than others. According to our country director Semira, if you ask any Haitian where the most witchcraft and voodoo takes place they'll tell you Coupon. Coupon is the "hot bed" or "capital" of these dark practices. HT005, our newest program in Haiti is in the center of Coupon. 

Think about that for a minute, an American Christian organization, working in the center of the voodoo world. The community didn't exactly throw us a welcome party. 

Luckily over the course of years the community has slowly but surely opened up to what our local heroes are doing there. Let me tell you, our local heroes in Coupon are not only faithful Christians, but they fiercely love the children of their community, it's truly moving. Something that sets great leaders apart is how their followers interact with them. Our local hero in Coupon, Immadue, is dedicated to and loved by his students. He spoils them with candy and is incredibly resourceful when it comes to getting information on the kids. This man, I kid you not, is Superman. He sacrifices for these kids and they look up to him because of it. Those among many others are the amazing things about our HT005 program. Here is Immadue (center) directing the students in a song for us! 

There are, however, the ever present realities of poverty and witchcraft. Immadue, our local hero in Coupon, was asked about the diet of the children in the community. Immadue informed us that more often than not the children in the community and those who attend our learning center and school only eat once a day. He even said this meal isn't made until around 4 pm. That means our students are coming to school, listening to their teachers and attempting to learn on a completely empty stomach. I don't know about you, but I need breakfast...lunch...dinner...plus like 3 snacks a day.  

Have you ever woken up in the morning with your stomach feeling like it's eating itself because you're so hungry? It's growling so much that it hurts? These children feel like that all day and night. 

It's a goal of VisionTrust and VisionTrust Haiti to have feeding programs at ALL of our programs worldwide and in Haiti. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly food takes funds. Right now, each Haiti program feeds its students one meal on the days that they meet. In order to "mature" the feeding programs in Haiti, the office must have more income. That's why I have increased my fundraising goal to $400 luckily, I made my previous goal so I only need $195 to reach this new goal. I don't want these kiddos to only eat at 4 pm. Please help Immadue, Semira (country director) and the rest of our dedicated Haitian staff support and love on their students. 

Check this link to give towards our Haiti programs:

https://visiontrust.givezooks.com/grassroots_fundraisers/let-s-support-kiddos-in-haiti

Resisted

I have resisted the urge to write about this story for a long time. Actually, it's been months, however, I think it's incredibly important for me to talk about it.

Let me set the stage for this event. Its interim (January term) of my senior year of college. My friends and I decided to have a girl's night out. It was a night to just hang out and enjoy time with the ladies. We all had a plan to meet at Grand Rapid's most famous club (lol) which happens to be in a building called the BOB. This is a big building downtown that houses a handful of bars and restaurants, plus a club called Eve.
Now for all of my God-fearing, protective family and friends who are cringing assuming that this was a night of binge drinking and crazy partying...relax...it was not. I can assure you that I was 21 and sober.
Back to the story, my girls and I rolled up to the BOB only to find out that Eve was opening an hour late because of a private party. We decided that we would go chill at one of the bars while we waited. A handful of us found a table and sat down. I was standing at the end of our table talking to my friends while trying to figure out what drink to order. After a few minutes of standing there, minding my own business I began to hear incredibly crude and vulgar statements coming from the white guy at the bar behind me. Let's call him Guy A. At first, I decided to ignore his comments, but it got to the point where I just couldn't anymore. He was speaking super loud and was saying disgusting things about me so I turned around, looked him in the eye and said "shut up" in a very firm voice. His response was to scoff and shrug. I was pissed at this point. There's no reason to say sexually explicit things about anyone, let alone me. A couple of minutes passed before Guy A's friend came up to our table and arrogantly said "so ladies, what are we doing tonight?"
Bad choice on his part. I was mad and wasn't about to deal with a group of annoying guys. I'm also a very sassy individual which many of you know. So I turned to the friend and said "Um, nothing with you" to which Guy A scoffed, looked at me and said: "go back to Africa"

GO...BACK... TO...AFRICA...did he actually just tell me to "go back to Africa"?

That man, the man who made sexually explicit comments, about me, told me to "go back to Africa" 
I'm sorry friends, but if that doesn't bother you then you best be checking where your prejudices lie. There's something wrong with that.

I'm a lover not a fighter, but in that moment I had to resist every urge to punch him in the face. Honestly, I wanted to punch him. I have never been that angry. At the same time, I was utterly taken aback. I expected to be called a bitch or something like that, but I never saw a pointed racial comment coming.
I get a lot racial ignorance in my life. That's what I get for being racially ambiguous. Normally its a hand in the hair here or a "what are you?" there. But that statement was so blatantly racist it caught me completely off guard.
I whipped around, locked eyes with Guy A and asked "do you want to rephrase that?" He began making excuses and I was 110% done listening. I turned back around only to see all of my friends wide eyed with their jaws dropped. Not only had they never seen me react so aggressively, but they also couldn't believe what they had just heard. All I said was "he's not worth my time or attention." I walked away and went about my night.
As I danced the night away with my best friends, that comment lingered in the back of my mind. I couldn't shake it or the feeling it spurred in me. I was up for hours that night trying to justify his comment. I didn't want it to be a racial slur, I didn't want to think that he told me to "go back to Africa" because of the way I looked. At the end of the night, I couldn't. I could not justify him telling me to "go back to Africa."
As I fell asleep, I thought:
1. I would love to go back to Africa because I freaking loved it. I would live there in a heart beat.
2. That was single-handedly the most racist thing that has ever been said to me and yet I sat in my bed trying as hard as I could to JUSTIFY it
3. If that's the most racist thing that's been said to me then I'm sitting pretty. I have friends who experience SO much worse. Like light years beyond what I've ever experienced and that truly upsets me. I won't sit here and tell you that I have it rough because I don't by any means. But if Guy A thinks it's okay to say things like that to me then imagine what he would say to someone else?

This whole topic of "race" can seem so big and vague and distant. It's especially hard to understand if you're white. It's complicated I'll give you that. It's impersonal because you don't live it, experience it or witness it. This is my way of bringing the topic home. If someone who looks like me (pretty much the most racially ambiguous person on the planet) experiences racism, then imagine what a whole community of people experiences every day?

An Open Letter to Calvin College

Much to my dismay, it's about time for me to process and come to terms with my new label of "alumni", "new graduate" and "employee". This upcoming weekend I will be visiting Grand Rapids for the last time in what will be the foreseeable future. This means, the end of my college career and my life in GR are coming to a rapid and emotional close. So, I guess I can't avoid the sorrow any longer.

At Calvin College, the administration, professors and orientation staff drill the following mission statement into your mind: "Calvin College equips students to think deeply, to act justly and to live wholeheartedly as Christ's agents of renewal in the world." Much to the satisfaction of my professors and bosses at Calvin, I typed that from memory. It wasn't until senior year that I actually stopped to process what this mission statement means to me and how it has become evident in my life. This short and simple mission statement has become more than just the tagline of my Alma Mater, it will continue to serve me as I move into my workplace, my new community and my relationships. It's become a motto of my life, keeping life in perspective for me. Through my experiences, education and opportunities over the past four years, I have learned to think deeply, act justly and live wholeheartedly as an agent of renewal. Thank you Calvin College for creating and living out such a humbling yet encouraging mission. 

Thank you Calvin College for giving me the opportunities to become whatever and whoever I wanted. In high school, I wasn't what you would call "involved". I floated through high school only being involved in choir. I was encouraged by many people in the Calvin community to "put myself out there" and to "get out of your comfort zone". I was about as involved at Calvin as you possibly could be. Each year I tried something new and challenged myself to grow whether it was going to Ghana, West Africa for almost six months or joining Calvin College Orientation crew as an Orientation leader. It was because of Calvin College that I realized, grew and honed my leadership skills. These were skills that I didn't see in myself but people at Calvin saw them in me. 

Thank you Calvin College for giving me the space to be an adult. More often than not, Christian colleges and universities require specific things from their students such as mandatory chapel attendance, strict clothing guidelines and a testimony of faith. Calvin, thank you for creating your student body with people from any and every background. Thank you for not requiring all students to be from the same stuffy, smothering and stagnant religious background. I am grateful that I was able to choose to attend or not attend chapel, lectures and programs. Calvin College, you gave me room to make mistakes and suffer the consequences while also giving me the ability to thrive just like every adult has to. 

Thank you Calvin College for my five best friends. It sounds cliché but meeting my five best friends was such a God thing. All six of us just so happened to be on Second Eldersveld within a couple of rooms from each other? What are the odds? I don't have sisters and never really wanted any, but if I had to choose these girls would be it. Thank you each for all the belly aching laughs, midnight McDonald's runs, and endless pieces of advice and wisdom you've given me the past four years. We made it through two 24 hour long road trips, four semesters in a single house, two Christmas cards, a handful of breakups, an engagement and soon to be a wedding. Y'all are stuck with me. I love and cherish not only my Rosewood girls but all the other friends I made along the way. Or you're thinking that you're included in that group then you probably are. Without Calvin College, we would have never met and my life would be incredibly dull and 110% boring. 

There are countless aspects of Calvin that I could mention, but for the sake of your sanity I'll tell one last story. At the end of senior year, I was in the thick of papers, projects, meetings and preparing for finals. One of my bosses/directors at Calvin asked if I would participate in a panel for the parents of incoming Calvin students. This panel was made up of a professor, my boss Bob Crow and myself. Bob told me that he wanted me to share my stories while walking parents through a slideshow of Calvin statistics and whatnot. As I was preparing, it dawned on me just how many stories I have. I kid you not, I could have and would have spoken to those parents for multiple hours but I only had 8 minutes. I talked about my time in the dorms, my semester in Ghana and my experience with student leadership. It was a joy for me to speak into what life is like for a Calvin student. I wanted to end with a bang so I pondered, typed, deleted and typed again for nearly an hour. In the end, I think captured it pretty well "I have this unbridled love of this place. I have truly, in every sense of the word thrived here and leaving this place will be one of the hardest things I have to do." 

Sincerely, 
A Knight for Life, Class of 2017

Adoption: The good, the bad, the ugly

As many, if not all of you know, I’m adopted. There’s probably a whole series of questions running through your mind right now. To be honest, I’ve probably heard every possible question you could think of. I’ll answer some of the common questions:

1. Where were you adopted from? - I was born and raised in Indiana, so no, I’m not from an exotic country. 
2. Do you know your biological parents? - No, I don’t know my biological parents. My adoption is closed, therefore, no relationship exists between the child and the biological family. I have heard this question as “do you know your real parents?”...why yes, I do know my real parents. They raised me. My real parents are not the ones I share my flesh and blood with, but they are the ones that have raised, loved and cherished me. Shoutout to Bob and Jody 
3. Follow question: Do you want to know your biological parents? - No, to be honest, I don’t. There are plenty of adopted people who feel the need to know. I can say there have been and are times that I would love to put a name to a face and say hey, there’s the woman who gave birth to me. I know that if I chose to live while dwelling on the life that could have been I would miss everything that happens around me. I would be drowning in self-doubt, anxiety and depression. While I cherish the life that my biological parents chose to give me, they haven’t been a part of it so far and I don’t see room for them in the future. It took me several years to get to that point. I wanted to base my identity on the foundation of my parents but I had the wrong parents in mind. I thought that because I haven’t heard “wow, you have your mom’s nose” or “you’re a spitting image of your dad” I didn’t have a foundation for anything. For years, I dwelled on the fact that I didn’t know these people or specific things about myself. This isn’t the right mindset to have. Eventually, I came to my senses and chose to embrace those unknowns and incorporate them into my identity rather than making them my whole identity. Long story short, as of now, I would not try to contact or reach out to my biological family; however, if they were to contact me then I would gladly met them in the middle and established a relationship.
4. Are your siblings adopted too? - No, my brothers are biologically related to my parents. I’m the only adopted child. Woohoo! 

I was asked to participate in an activity for an orientation panel my junior year of college. I had to sum myself up in only five words. These words were to represent my identity and who I am as a person. my five were: 1. I’m a woman 2. I’m a family member 3. I’m adopted 4. I’m a humanitarian and 5. I’m bi-racial. Over the course of the activity I had to narrow the options down until I had one identity marker left. I crossed them off until I was left with “I’m adopted.” My adoption has made me who I am, and I generally enjoy what I have been, what I am and what I am becoming. I could talk your ear off when it comes to this. All of this to be an outspoken advocate for adoption! 

Please feel free to ask me questions in regards to this post or adoption in general! 

Mixology

Most often the term "mixology" refers to the mixing of drinks, but this post is not about the latest and greatest cocktails I've mixed, but about my complex relationship with race. This story dates back to May 3rd, 1995. Why yes, that is my birthday! Now to introduce the complexity...my racial background isn't fully known. I am half white and that is all we know for certain. Rather than explaining that personal story to every stranger that asks, I often make up a story.

Much to your surprise, I get asked "what are you?", "what are you mixed with?", "what is your ethnicity?", "are you mixed?", "what race are you?" on a weekly basis. Normally, these types of questions don't bother me all too much. I'll answer and shrug off the ignorance. Today, however, it was a different story. I was going to a local pizza place to pick up a large order of pizza for a group event this evening. As I was walking an employee to my car with an arm full of pizza boxes she asks "what are your ethnicities?" and I responded with, "well I'm black and white" which is my go to answer. Rather than leaving it at that, she pointed out that "most of the world is going to look like you in the next couple decades" which is true, but also demeaning when she followed it up with "well you don't look like the rest of them, most guys like that don't look like you". Why she chose to imply my answer wasn't right or true is beyond me, moreover, she generalized an entire race of people. There is not a single defining characteristic for someone who is biracial. That is what makes it such a beautiful and unique identity. Do not think that all biracial men and women have "carmel" skin tones, with white facial features and black body types. We are as diverse as the stories and places we come from. Do not put us in a box. 

A Collection of Thoughts (Ghana, Dominican Republic and Elections)

Thoughts about Ghana, this world and the time of life I find myself in are constant. In the two weeks since coming home from Ghana not only do I find myself missing my life there, but I also find myself struggling to comprehend how to apply my time in Ghana to my every day life. What implications does my time there have on my thoughts, attitudes, actions and future? I have yet to fully answer that question for myself. There are, of course, practical implications that I have identified, especially in my actions and attitudes. I am so much more grateful for the hundreds of blessings I have. I have a job (babysitting the best children in the world), I have a home, food on the table, a car and the ability to take opportunities that come my way.
Honestly, life in America is dull in comparison to life in Accra. The color and vibrancy of life is immense and never ending. While I was in Ghana I was often frustrated by nothing ever going as planned, but now I know I took that for granted. Driving down the street in Westfield there are rarely people walking on the street and there is never anyone selling things through open windows. I miss that about Accra, people are everywhere. There's a sense of life, like a house that is a home rather than a house that doesn't look lived in. But what I miss most is Haven of Hope and the children I bonded so closely with.
There's Gabriel, who has the most incredible dimples and a heart made of pure gold. He gave me a necklace the first day he met me and I can assure you that I will cherish that for the rest of my life!

 There's Nii, who has the warmest smile and the curiosity of a cat. His questions never ended and that is such an amazing quality; one that I don't have but wish I did.

Lastly, there's Kofi who has a smile that shines as bright as the sun and has boundless energy. He's a tough guy who is actually a teddy bear, but wishes he wasn't. Also, this happens to be one of my favorite pictures from the whole semester!

Being at a place like Haven of Hope brought a flood of Dominican memories back to my mind and a twinge of pain in my heart. In case you didn't know I was given an incredible opportunity to intern with VisionTrust Dominicana again for the whole summer, but due to financial problems I wasn't able to take the opportunity. This was by far the hardest decision I made in quite a long time. To feel a call to be in DR during the summer, but not be able to because of money was disheartening to say the least. As my family at VT down in Dominican serves a total of sixteen teams this summer I am stuck on the sidelines as a ball of envy and heartache. It is hard to be stuck somewhere when your heart desires to be somewhere else.

I might have been out of the country from January until May 30th but I definitely caught all the political drama going on in America. Donald Trump. Hillary Clinton. Wow. What terrible odds for America. Neither is a good option and both are going to battle until the end. As a self professing conservative Republican who happens to be a minority I have found myself stressing over how I will cast my vote in November. I was reminded during worship at my church that God is ultimately dictating the outcome of this election. We were singing "Fail Us Not" by 1000 Generations where the chorus and bridge follow as:
"There is nothing above you. 
There is nothing beyond you. 
There is nothing that you can't do. 
Whatever will come, we'll rise above. 
You fail us not, You fail us not. 
No matter the war, our hope is secure. 
You fail us not, You fail us not. 
Whatever will come, we'll rise above. 
You fail us not, You fail us not. 
No, You fail us not. 
You fail us not. 
...You are bigger than the battle 
you are bigger than the battle 
you are bigger than the battle has ever been 
ever been..."

God is bigger than this election and His will will be done come November. This was the perfect reminder in the middle of my church service when I least expected it (when I didn't think I needed it). It's important to remember that just because someone's opinion doesn't match yours doesn't give you a reason to dislike or berate them.
This is just a collection of random thoughts I've had since coming back to America..

(I wonder if anyone actually read all the way to the end)