tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18916729.post517660563837654605..comments2023-06-26T04:30:21.447-04:00Comments on Harlem Writer: Cultural AwarenessHarlem Writerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15483428655103045805noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18916729.post-14041282894846456522008-12-16T11:10:00.000-05:002008-12-16T11:10:00.000-05:00I have always been acutely aware of the cultures o...I have always been acutely aware of the cultures of others because that's all I grew up with--the cultures of others. Which you'd think might make these other cultures my comfort zone, but you might be as surprised as I was-- when I finally became more aware of me and mine--that others are always others no matter how much we identify with or love them. This is not necessarily negative, we all need a certain self awareness that includes recognizing the differences between you and he and they and me.<BR/><BR/>I am black. I met my first black classmate in the second grade. I had no black friends beside him until college, at least not outside school. My parents drove me to the homes of other black children (who attended other schools) so I could play with them.<BR/><BR/>This may sound like the work-up to "woe is me" tale, but it isn't; it's just the facts. With a white Jewish father, and a black Christian mother (who later converted to Judaism), who filled our home with both black and white friends, and a smattering of guests from many nations and tongues, I'm sure I had the best cultural awareness and acceptance training available in a small decidedly non-diverse northern town.<BR/><BR/>When I arrived in New York City to begin my college education, it was like a dirty, smelly/shiny, wonderful shadow of heaven for me. Everyone was represented.<BR/><BR/>Moving from New York to Nashville in 1987 (before the late 1990's influx of New Yorkers, Californians, Eastern Europeans, North Africans, and Mexicans hit town)_was quite a culture shock. There I was again surrounded by nothing but plain old American white and black people. Not a sushi joint, falafel, or cannoli in sight either.<BR/><BR/>In Nashville, though, I finally became a "sister". Maybe because I was in my 30's and 40's then and the women I met at work and church were also maturing, at last I found a whole collection of black "sisters" who were not intimidated by my light skin or grade of hair or height or whatever(at least not for long) and cared about me beneath the surface. The fact that these women were all Christians and were there when I surrendered to the faith probably informed this dynamic more than anything else.<BR/><BR/>Two years ago I moved to Richmond, Virginia, a place that has it's own historic and current racial issues, although it seems that other people notice this a great deal more than I do.<BR/><BR/>Now I look back on my life and thank God for having had every experience I've had--good and bad--and having known every person I've known--friend or foe--and relish the way my life has been enriched by interacting with so many different kinds of people and I feel sorry for folks who cut themselves off from this richness and opportunity.<BR/><BR/>There's a Bible story about God destroying a tower because the builders were united to try and reach heaven in order to take it over. Because of this supposedly He scattered us and caused us to speak different languages. I think He wants us to figure out how to unite again--but this time UNDER Him and not trying to be above Him. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to the mission.<BR/><BR/>Diane L. Harris<BR/>http://www.steppingintothelight.netDiane L. Harrishttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02616867229808048291noreply@blogger.com