American Blood American Soil

First generation American.

Spent your whole life overseas.

You married right.  You married well.

Happy wife, your land can be changed.

Now you have become an American.

First generation un-American

Spent your whole life in the States.

You married wrong.  What have you done?

Unhappy wife, your land can be changed.

You can no longer be an American.[1]

*************************************

First generation to come to America,

The unwanted refuse of the earth.

Spit out from your native land,

Came on ships as chattel.

We don’t want you here, you Irish,

Your blood won’t make this land American.

First generation to come to America,

The precious cargo of the earth.

Stolen from your native land,

Came on ships as chattel.

We want you here, in chains.

This land won’t make your blood American.[2]

**************************************

Second generation born overseas,

Your parents move and travel.

You’ve never lived on the land,

But blood is stronger.

You will remain an American.

Second generation born in America,

Your parents move and travel.

You’ve lived on the land all your life,

But blood is stronger.

You will never be an American.[3]

*******************************

Three generations born in Mexico,

Now you live in the U.S.A.

You’ve never once moved or shifted.

You’ll have to if you want to stay Mexican,

Your land has become American.

Three generations born in America,

Now you live in Mexico.

You’re always moving, always shifting.

Your blood expands, pours across borders,

Forcing this land to become American.[4]

*********************************

Four generations born in America,

Builders of the nation, built with your own two hands.

Architects of freedom, masterminds of democracy.

With your blood, sweat, and tears

You have made this land American

Four generations born in America

Builders of the nation, built with your own two hands.

Freedom and democracy aren’t your birthright.

Your blood, sweat, and tears,

Will not make you American.[5]

*******************************************

Five generations welcomed to America:

Dutch, German, English, Swedish

Welcome: Pure, unadulterated, Anglo-Saxon stock.

All others: Shut the door.  No more.

We want to keep our blood American.

Five generations shut out from America:

Italian, Jewish, Indian, Japanese.

Unwelcome: Impure, adulterated, tainted blood.

Our Nordic brothers, welcome!  Bring us more!

We want to keep our blood American. [6]

****************************************

Six generations born in Europe:

Germany, Ireland, England, Sweden.

Newly planted immigrants,

You are welcome here.

This land will make you American.

Land is stronger than blood

Six generations born in America:

Cherokee, Iroquois, Pottawatomi, Hopi.

You’ve been here long enough,

It’s time to go away.

This land does not make you American

Blood is stronger than land.[7]

*****************************

All generations to become American:

You write your story on this land,

You write your story through your children.

You redefine both blood and land.

You decide what it means to be an American. [8]

***********************************

Citizenship:

Jus soli:  Defined by the land you are born on.

Jus sanguinis:  Defined by your genes, your people, your blood.[9]

---

[1] 1940:  The year white American women could no longer lose their citizenship for marrying foreign men.

1855: the year white foreign women could gain citizenship by marrying an American man. https://www.pri.org/stories/2016-07-04/us-has-come-long-way-its-first-highly-restrictive-naturalization-law

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/stripping-naturalized-immigrants-their-citizenship-isnt-new-180969733/

[2] 1845: The Great Hunger-Potato famine begins in Ireland through both natural and man-made causes.  Half the population of Ireland died.  A quarter came as refugees to the U.S.  The U.S. fought vehemently against them because their religion, culture, and way of life was “incompatible with American values.”  By the 1890’s, Irish Americans were accepted into mainstream society and began to fight against “those immigrants” who flooding the U.S. from Southern and Eastern Europe.  https://www.history.com/news/when-america-despised-the-irish-the-19th-centurys-refugee-crisis

1868/1870:  Africans and those of African descent allowed birth citizenship and naturalization. 

https://americanhistory.si.edu/democracy-exhibition/creating-citizens/defining-citizenship

[3]1790: The year children born to Americans living outside of the U.S. also granted U.S. citizenship (unless their father is foreign) http://www.indiana.edu/~kdhist/H105-documents-web/week08/naturalization1790.html.

1898:  The year American-born people of Chinese descent could become American citizens.  Those born in China (Japan, Korea) could not become naturalized citizens until 1943.

https://americanhistory.si.edu/democracy-exhibition/creating-citizens/defining-citizenship

[4] 1848:  Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo ended Mexican-American War and Mexico gave states from Texas to California to the United States.  Current residents could choose to move to Mexico or take on American citizenship.  http://www.digitalhistory.uh.edu/disp_textbook.cfm?smtID=3&psid=1141 

[5] 1868/1870:  Africans and those of African descent allowed birth citizenship and naturalization. 

https://americanhistory.si.edu/democracy-exhibition/creating-citizens/defining-citizenship

[6] 1924:  Wording taken from speech to congress by Ellison Durant Smith. Laws passed in 1921 and 1924 drastically limited immigration to ensure that 86% of immigrants came only from N/W Europe, 11% came from S/E Europe, and 2% came from the rest of the world.  Most Asians (and much of the rest of the world) were not allowed at all. 

http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5080

http://historymatters.gmu.edu/d/5078

http://immigrationtounitedstates.org/590-immigration-act-of-1924.html

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/us-government-turned-away-thousands-jewish-refugees-fearing-they-were-nazi-spies-180957324/

1923:  naturalized Indian citizens have citizenship revoked due to Supreme court deciding they are “not white”. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_v._Bhagat_Singh_Thind

[7] 1790/1795: The U.S. passes first laws on naturalization and defining citizenship.  Any “free white person” who has lived in the U.S. for two years, is of “good moral character”, and swears an oath to uphold the constitution can become a citizen.  Their children also automatically gained citizenship…unless their father was foreign.

http://www.indiana.edu/~kdhist/H105-documents-web/week08/naturalization1790.html

1924:  Native Americans granted U.S. citizenship.  https://www.pri.org/stories/2016-07-04/us-has-come-long-way-its-first-highly-restrictive-naturalization-law

[8] 1965:  New laws passed that allowed immigration to be determined on skills/family ties and not on race, religion, gender, or marital status.  By the 1990’s, only 16% of immigrants came from Europe.  The other 84% came from the rest of the world.  https://www.history.com/topics/immigration/us-immigration-since-1965

1967:  Interracial marriage allowed everywhere in the U.S. 

https://www.history.com/topics/immigration/immigration-united-states-timeline

[9] All countries use one, the other, or a combination to define citizenship.  Europe tends to go by blood.  The Americas tend to go by land.  https://www.history.com/news/birthright-citizenship-history-united-states

Dusty Feet

I asked the Lord to direct my path
And when He showed the way,
I looked and gasped and said,
"Dear Lord, can I go another way?"

That road stretched on through foggy mists,
And rough desert wasteland roads,
I looked and shook and begged Him
"Lord, please take away my load!"

When I looked down the other paths
I saw pure lush and gold
But down those easy, simple roads
Was not my Shepherd’s fold.

To go down those there may be green,
But I would be alone.
I'd not have my guide, my friend, my Lord,
And my map would be my own.

Could I ignore my Shepherd's voice
And go where I want to go,
Knowing that the moment I did,
I'd lose that voice I know?

Or could I throw off this load
Of heavy burdens on my soul?
In order to live as I want to live
Relieved from this weights’ heavy toll.

Then came His silent voice, it spoke,
"Child, you are mine
I have given you all you have.
And with me you'll be fine."

"Just trust in me to hold your hand,
As we climb this dusty road,
And follow my voice through the hazy mists
Until you reach my fold."

"And dig deeply for my water's springs
When through the deserts you go.
For I am there and with you though
Your hand I may let go."

"Child, I put that load you bear,
Upon your little back
And I do well know your strength
And the strength you lack."

"Stop and rest by my quiet streams,
Deeply and full draught,
For without those weights, you'd run too far

And lose the need to stop."

"You need those weights to make you strong
With a strength you cannot bear.
For it is when you tire and fall
It’s then you realize I'm there."

"To let you free would mean
I'd lose the chance for you to see
That I'm all you really need in life,
And all you have is me."

"So, come on, pickup and go!
Down this dusty road.
You've heard my voice and felt my push
Now take up your heavy load."

"The end is still beyond your eyes,
And you do not know the way.
But all you really need to know,
Is all I have to say."

"I have called you on this road,
And I will guide your feet.
I will catch each tear that falls,
And provide the streams you seek."

"Just follow and obey my voice,
And always come to me.
For I will help you carry on.
For all you need is me."

Evidence of Parenthood

In case you couldn't tell already, here are ten telltale signs that you may have committed parenthood:

1.)  Your mailbox is suddenly fuller than it used to be.

2.)  You find yourself walking with more caution (and reflection).

3.)  Your life is suddenly reorganized in new and creative ways.  

3.)  You feel the paradox of being both unwrapped and all wrapped up.

4.)  There's always a line waiting for your attention.

5.)  You seem to be carrying more weight.

6.)  You learn to think inside the box.  

7.)  You find that standing alone is precarious.  

8.)  Find yourself looking for more signs. 

9.)  You find that silence is sometimes not a good thing....

and other times, it is a very good thing.

10.) Finally, you find your sole is overflowing in ways you never anticipated. 

 

 If you find evidence that you may have committed parenthood, don't panic.

Don't try to hide the evidence or get yourself out of it.

It is only temporary, and will pass.  Much sooner than you anticipate.

The Skin, The History, and the Stereotype: Translating Identity Across Cultures

Boot and bonnet.  Chemist.  Trolley.  Nappie.  Serviette.  Centre.  Saviour.  Aeroplane. 

 

One thing I learned in East Africa is that I not only had to learn functional Kiswahili but I also needed to learn English.  Sure, I spoke English, but I spoke American English.  I spoke too fast, didn’t pronounce my letters properly, and I didn’t even know the right words or how to spell.  I needed to learn British English.  I needed to slow down my flow of words and actually pronounce the letters that are in the words (ki-tt-en not ki-in, wa-T-er not wadder) or I would not be understood.  My audience would struggle to understand me, not because they were not capable of speaking English, but because I spoke a “different” English.    

I quickly learned it wasn’t only my language that needed to be translated.  It was me, my self, my body, what I represent through my biologically embodied representation of my particular slice of humanity.

Growing up, I didn’t think too much stereotypes, especially not my own.  I struggled to understand my identity as Tara, as myself as an individual, but I didn’t spend an ounce of energy trying to understand my ethnic identity, racial identity, collective identity, or the identity that others see what they look at me. When I looked in a mirror, I didn’t think about the layers of history written in my genetic code.  I just saw me and my immediate family (i.e. my aunt’s jaw, my grandmother’s nose, my mother’s curl, my dad’s hair) but not traits that said “Swedish,” “Dutch,” “German,” and “English”.  But then again, I never had to.  I’d never been looked down upon or insulted because of the labels of identity that people attribute to me when they see me. 

My first weeks in Kenya, I quickly learned I had acquired new labels.  

Mzungu.

“Mzungu” (plural wazungu) now branded me.  I didn’t know what it meant, but I did know that I was no longer invisible.  I couldn’t pass down the street unnoticed or be seen as “normal” but I stood out like a scarlet macaw in a flock of penguins.  My appearance branded me as “other” and I found myself wading through a sludge of symbols so deep I couldn’t lift a tennis shoe without finding myself dripping with the expectations of those around me.

I didn’t understand my interpretation.  Kenyans saw me and labeled me in their framework, reading symbols that I did not know were there, let alone their meaning.  And I discovered I needed to translate what my appearance communicated in my new context.  I needed to understand what it meant to be “me” in their worldview.   

Mzungu comes from the same Kiswahili root word as the words kizunguzungu ( dizziness) and kuzunguka (to turn around in a circle).  It basically means “a person who wanders aimlessly” or “one who is lost” (coined by Swahili inhabitants of the first European explorers based on the actions of the Europeans wandering around “discovering” things the natives already knew were there).  (check it out on Wikipedia for more details).

The term has changed in meaning over time and has history has unfurled.  It can be a noun or an adjective.  It can describe a person, an object, or a behavior.  Still, the overall ideas that emerge from the term are something wealthy, powerful, and/or foreign.  It is often used to describe something (or someone) of European descent and takes on the racial undertone of whiteness (which in the East African historical framework are inextricably interwoven with concepts of power, wealth, beauty, and status). 

Wazungu are never poor and wazungu are always “other”. 

I quickly learned that my appearance led to being given the best place in church, on the bus, and in the line at the bank.  It meant the marriage proposals, dinner invitations, ministry opportunities, and business partnerships sought me out faster than the mosquitos.   I didn’t have to prove my qualifications or my worthiness.  People automatically presumed my competence based on my physical appearance.

This also meant I was a walking target.  It meant I was robbed by those I’d never met and those I considered my closest friends.  It meant being sought because of what I represented and not who I was.  Everyone wanted a piece of my pie and tried to convince me to support their cause, their need, their ministry, or their business.  My power and wealth were contagious to those in my sphere of relationships (and so I was uninvited from certain ministries and relationships because I would lead to heightened expectations and "scare away" potential donors).   

Adding the label of “female” made me even more complicated.  I represented free sex (thanks to globalized porn industry) and access to status.  I could give visas, job opportunities, cash, cars, and “add value” to those around me.  I was a free ticket to the “heaven” that is the mzungu world.  I represented the colonizer who could be colonized and the unattainable brought within grasp.  

A stereotype doesn't have to be true to be powerful.

It’s very few people who see below the skin, the history, and the stereotype.  

Hood and trunk.  Pharmacist.  Cart.  Diaper.  Napkin.  Center.  Savior.  Airplane. 

When my husband came to the U.S. from Uganda, he also had to adjust his English.  He’s tried to slur certain words, force his “r” in words like dirt, bird, and water, and not pronounce all the letters in mosquito, leopard, and juice.  His English has had to adjust to include more American slang and idioms.  It’s been part of the process of helping his audience understand him and not consider his fluent English as "broken".

He’s also had to relearn what it means to be him.  He has always experienced people interpreting his appearance.  It happened all the time back home.  Other Ugandans, at one glance, read the tall, lean frame and  deep fudge-colored skin and immediately labeled him as “northern Ugandan” or “Nilotic” as opposed to “Bantu”.  These labels carried an army of stereotypes that he shed like a snake sheds skin when he landed in the U.S. he was interpreted according to those stereotypes.  

African.

It didn’t take a week in the U.S. before Ivan found himself mired in a swamp of symbols he didn’t understand.  In the American context, he has been forced to translate his appearance into the American labels of “Black” and “African” and renegotiate what it means to be him based on how he is interpreted. 

“Black” does not refer to a physical description of aesthetic appearance, but a long, complicated racial history that puts people on a ladder from least desirable to most desirable based on a socially constructed idea of immutable origins.  His skin means he is called n****r, slave, dangerous, and dirty. 

People read his appearance and cross to the other side of the street to avoid walking too close.  The police follow him in their police car and frisk him just to make sure he isn’t causing problems.  His appearance means people interpret his “standing politely and listening” as “threatening” them and will report him to his supervisors for hostility.

Yet his label of “Black” is sometimes countered with “African”.  He is often rejected by African Americans as being “not Black” and told to go back to where he is from.  His status as “African” also means he is exotic and is sought out by “White” Americans to share about what it’s like to be African and poor. 

Africans are always poor and Africans are always “other”.    

Ivan thought he was Ugandan and from the “Pearl of Africa,” the “Source of the Nile,” and he came proud of his heritage.  He quickly learned he should say he is Jamaican.  African is associated with deranged dictators, child soldiers, famine, civil war, AIDS, and poverty.  To be African means to be incompetent and inferior to an American in all things.  To be African means he must have lived with a pet lion, hunted with a spear, clothed in a loin cloth, and only experienced literacy, English, electricity, and automobiles upon U.S. soil.  He is congratulated on finally making it to the "heaven" that is America and freed from the "hell" of Africa.

As an African in America, he learned it means he is wrong.  His English is wrong, his education is wrong, his job experiences are wrong, and his culture is wrong.  He needs to go back to zero, relearn everything, redo everything until he can be reborn “American” and know how to do things “right”.  Until he throws off everything “African” about him, he will just be another “unskilled worker from a s***hole country”(source), no matter how many skills, degrees, and doctorates he possesses.  

A stereotype doesn't have to be true to be powerful.  A jug labeled milk will be treated differently than a jug labeled paint, regardless of contents.  

It’s very few people who see below the skin, the history, and the stereotype. 

We were born into bodies that we did not choose, into ethnicities we did not intend, and into nationalities that were chosen for us.  Yet these markers of identity still communicate to our audience deeply powerful symbols that influence how we are understood and perceived.  

In cross-cultural interactions, it’s not only the language we speak and way we greet that needs to be translated.  There’s a long process of renegotiating identity: who am I?  Who do other people think I am?  What does it mean to be me?  How do I interact with the world around me based on how this world understands me? Who should I become in future? 

Sometimes we do not know what we communicate through perceptions of our skin, history, or stereotype.  And sometimes we are forced to learn, unlearn, and relearn our own embodied symbols in order to understand how our identity translates across cultures.