Race, Culture, and In-laws: What I've learned in the first 10 years

Ten years ago I met my (then future) in-laws for the first time. Have I told those stories yet? Wow, lots of tears as I came face to face with my future forever and how different everything would be for me. Not bad, just really, really different.

Forgive me if I'm repeating myself, but here's the gist of it. I grew up in a very white community in the midwest. Close enough to Chicago where there should have been more diversity in my life, but there wasn't. I was raised on church, Christian School and the Cosby Show. Every Thursday night on tv, I learned an important lesson in regards to race and culture: We're all the same, we just come in different colors.

And then I met Ben's parents, and my world came crashing down as I realized that everything the Huxtables taught me had been wrong - we were NOT the same. We weren't even close to the same. In fact, other than the fact that we were all fond of Ben, I don't think think there was anything between us that resembled sameness.

We spoke different languages, ate different food, wore different clothes, had very different ideas about what it means to be polite, what it means to be modest, where one should sit, whether or not it's acceptable to kick your husband in public, etc.

So, ten years ago, I met Ben's parents and decided that the Cosby show didn't do me a whole lot of good. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say that Easter weekend 2000 involved my future mother-in-law trying to make me kill a duck, say "fart" in Malayalam to my future father-in-law, and bringing up each of Ben's former girlfriends who were "so nice" and "so pretty."

It's been a journey. A journey on which I've mostly been arrogant, selfish and insecure when confronted with people very unlike me. But, I've been seeing it little by little - the ugliness in my heart that bubbles up when everything I know to be "right" doesn't apply.

Do you like all the "quotation marks" in this post? It's important, because I'm learning that we all use similar words, but often don't all mean the same thing.

Here's the thing about Ben's parents: Despite the whole duck-killing and other mean-spirited tricks that weekend, they are great people. Ben's mom was just trying to make sure I knew who was in charge, I think. I have a son now, who isn't allowed to marry someone I don't like, so I know things now I didn't know then.

Ben was recently giving a talk to a large group of people, and he used some stories from his upbringing as illustration. He did great - painting the picture of his parents as new immigrants sacrificing everything to help others in their community gain a foothold in the New World. He described how even though the four of them lived in a one-bedroom apartment, they always made room for relatives who needed a place to live.

It was beautiful. People ooohed and ahhhhed at all the right places. Concepts like that are completely foreign to us Americans. We hail from the Land of Boundaries. We say things like, "We'll just get a hotel room so we don't overcrowd you," and no one gets offended.

Anyway.

Afterwards, I was chatting with a friend about the story. She knew a little of my adjustment to my new culture, my new family. I remarked that Ben's story was a perfect example. Yes, they are AMAZING people. But, you try marrying into a family where it's perfectly acceptable, expected and assumed that you would share a one-bedroom apartment with all your relatives.

I don't even like sharing my bedroom with my baby boy.

So, it's been a (tricky, stretching, gratifying) journey. It's shaped me and given me perspective. It's stripped the polish and veneer off my efforts to convince the world and myself that I'm not prejudiced towards other cultures.* I am. We are. All of us to a certain degree, probably, but I'll go ahead and put myself in front of the bus first.

I prefer to be around people who make me comfortable. I prefer to love people who communicate love the same way I do. I prefer to go to a church where I am fully familiar with all social "rules", eat food that reminds me of home, and when people speak my language easily and clearly, I assume they are smarter than I would if they didn't.

Ugly.

And just so I don't keep sugar-coating things, it's not just that I feel uncomfortable. It's that I get fiercely defensive of my way, which is of course the right way. It's that somewhere in my heart I believe that I'm right and so people like me are also right, or at least more right than people not like me.

Ugly.

I am learning. It's been ten years and I'm still learning. It's hard for Ben to believe that it can take this long. It's exasperating for me that it's taking this long. I'm a slow learner, I guess.

But like all journeys, it is one rich with reward. Hopefully my slow learning will teach my kids important lessons about race and culture, and about sin and grace. Hopefully walking the long distance that lies between my right and their right (or your right) will mark the difference between real relationship and convenient relationship.

I have a lot to learn from my husband's family, so my future daughters-in-law better watch out - I've got some new tricks up my sleeve!

*After a lot of thought, I edited this statement. Originally, I used the term "racist," and I don't think that's an accurate description of the issue at hand. Skin color doesn't scare me. Differences in cultures, values, upbringings, and communication freak me out and can bring out some ugly sides of me. Thanks for your patience and understanding!

I'm Growing Like a Weed - is that good or bad?

The organization I work for is really big on personal growth. We are encouraged to do assessments to discover our strengths and "areas for development," and then come up with a plan (on paper) as to how we're going to grow in one or two of these areas. We are also encouraged to be a part of a peer coaching process, or "growth group" that will help keep us accountable to our personal development plans, and encourage and motivate us along the way.

I've gone about this process a little backwards as I joined a growth group several months ago, with no plan in place. Basically, because I liked everyone in the group, and if I could be a little more like each of them in some ways, it would amount to a lot of growth. But also, because it's fun to sit around a table for a couple of hours while someone watches your kids and say things like, "Yeah, you think that's bad, well MY husband..." 

Just kidding Ben, we like totally never say things like that.

Well, just the other day, I finally finished up the assessment part of this process, and began to get a plan in place. I won't share all of the gory details, just the ones I think are funny, ironic, or make me look especially ridiculous or awesome.

First of all, I did two assessments. One is called the EQi, which tests something called emotional intelligence - how you view yourself, relate to others, your general mood, how you manage stress, stuff like that. Another is the 360, which asks people in your life to evaluate you in various areas. Not my favorite, because that's just kind of awkward for everyone involved.

Then, a coach in our organization got on skype with me for 3 HOURS to go over the results. That's a long time. We didn't use video, and I still managed to resist the temptation to surf facebook the entire time we were talking - which I think should have earned me some extra points in the "impulse control" category.

Here's (some of) what I learned about myself:

Disclaimer: most of this is my unqualified interpretation of the results, not my coach's. Dee Dee, if you ever read this, I promise I was listening!
I seem to relate to myself better than I do to other people. I know, awesome.

That being said, I scored pretty well on empathy. The downside of that is I have a hard time turning my empathy into actual actions of care for people. My coach says that means I'm off to a good start. All that comes to my mind is the verse about how terrible it is if you know the right thing to do and don't do it.

My lowest score was in stress tolerance. That bodes well for this week as I have three small kids, an unavailable husband (just this week, not usually), and an enormous sleep deficit. I have to admit, I do find myself dealing with stress lately by loudly clapping my hands and yelling. Room to grow? probably.

Lastly, my favorite observation about myself. I feel oddly affirmed to have this quality factually confirmed. One of my lowest scores was in "optimism." But, one of my highest is in "happiness." I think that's pretty unusual (read: special). Yes, I am *a tad* negative. But, I am one of the most deep-down happy people you'll ever meet. I just like to point out the drama in life.

I was a little surprised to find out that I am not especially "independent" or "assertive." Anymore. I used to be. But, I also didn't used to be especially empathetic either, so I guess it's a trade-off.

What about you? Is personal growth something you think about?

And would you look at that - I just wrote an entire post that is not related to the adoption in any way.

Counting Down

Less than a week until I know if he's really, truly mine forever, and if I get to be really, truly, forever his.

Less than three weeks until I hold him and introduce him to his new Mommy and pray like crazy that he likes me.

One month until my kids meet Baby Brother, and we begin to sort out what all that means.

About 15 days of Life As I Know It before we pack up the car again and drive into Something Else to catch a plane to Change to fly back to Home Rearranged.

New Year's Resolution time has come and gone and it's inconveniently coincided with a time in my life that I am working towards personal growth. So, I don't resolve, but I do re-focus and mentally take stock in preparation for the year's first meeting with the women who help me grow.

The last year has been one of piling on the things that make life fun - blogging, working, working out, time with friends, getting out, taking advantage of a babysitter, sewing, learning new things, errands every waking moment. (So, for me that's kind of fun)

This year brings with it Child #3, and the realization that growth might mean shedding some things piled on. I want this year's growth to mean a more focused, present, calm mother for my children. Less stress. Fewer moments with frustrated, frazzled mama, and many more moments of serenity. Maybe we'll watch more movies, but hopefully we'll watch them together. Maybe we'll eat cereal for dinner, but hopefully because I skipped the store to read some stories.

I want to do this year with grace, for the sake of all of my kids who watch me so close. I want to find contentment within the walls of this house. I will still enjoy the museum, the library, the gym, but I don't want to need them for my sanity. I want to see Home through my baby's eyes, and get a kick out of staying there.

And for the next 15 days, I want to remember that this is the easy time.

Yesterday we were at the allergist, which meant another round with my son, pinning him down so he couldn't kick the nurse, while Talya stood on the sideline with nothing left to do but join the screaming. I didn't cry this time. The nurse probably thought I was crazy (even though I totally saved her from a kick to the teeth) to see the smile on my face - but I was playing the mental loop - reminding myself that in another month, I'll have three kids, and I'll look back on this horrid moment and laugh at myself for not knowing how easy I had it.

This is the easy time - when I only have 6 sippy cups to wash at the end of the day, and 4 laundry baskets overflowing, and one set of poopy diapers to step out into the frigid winter to dispose of.

I'm counting down many things, so I can remember to enjoy what I've got while I look forward to what's on its way.

Happy 2010!
(This year, I'm going to have to be okay with being late a lot.)