Reducing

The other day, I asked my host mom if there was anything interesting/challenging/surprising about my behavior living with the Tembo family in general. She said she was surprised by how easily I fit in. I’m just a part of everything, she said—even house chores and sleeping on the floor with the church communities. (And squatting over the same hole—my addition.) This made me smile. Her words affirmed my attempts at crossing cultures and showing Zambians I respect them and don’t put myself above them. But then she said something that broke my heart. She told me she was thankful that I was able to reduce myself to them.

Reduce myself.

It’s true that part of this year has been simple living, or living with less stuff. I’m not using a shower or a washing machine. The power goes out for even days at a time. Internet is expensive and sometimes slow. Many of the material things available to me in the States are not a part of my life. There has been a reduction of stuff in my life.

But when it comes to my very self and soul….when it comes to my friends and family and the people around me….I have been expanded, opened up, seen in new ways, and transformed into a new, more aware, more open person with a motivation for activism.

The phrase “reducing myself” just doesn’t cut it for what has happened to me here.

It was eye opening to realize my beautiful Zambian mother could think that me matching her day-to-day life here—her everyday experience—would be reducing myself. That insinuates that my white, privileged life is higher and worth more. That’s ingrained racism. Somehow views of American white privilege crept over and seeped into Zambia. My Zambian mother is a beautiful, strong woman who does chores in the morning, works full-time as a government schoolteacher and then works on the weekends doing the duties of the wife of a pastor. She’s superwoman. She can belt out a praise song and manages to support at least five dependent children, nieces, and nephews with her meager salary. She is self-assured and loves herself, and yet she still used that word “reducing.” My mother is confident I tell you.  I don’t want to insinuate that she or any Zambian I know is wallowing in self-pity. She doesn’t need me to know she is something. And yet when she put my identity in comparison to Zambians she used a word of hierarchical worth.

Multiple times my Zambian students and friends have blatantly told me they liked my skin color (white) or wished for it. That means they assign more worth to white skin.

I am not reflecting on these events to blame Zambians in anyway. I write these words so that white people can fully understand the results of white supremacy and however subtly or blatantly we perpetuate it. The result is people don’t see their own worth.

Try to think about this deeply for a moment. Cultural norms brought to us through movies, education, politics, stories, even religion make some people unconsciously think others are better than them. Culture tells us rich people are better. Culture tells us white people are better. Beautiful people are better. Men are better.

I’ve known this cultural dynamic for a while, but I usually come away from confronting this reality with the lesson that the rich, white, beautiful people shouldn’t be uppity or think too much of themselves. They are equal to everyone else. Can't we just be color blind?

Today I am very much aware of the opposite side of the coin. Those who don’t conform to the hetero-normative identity (those who are black, brown, poor, female, don’t see themselves as beautiful) actually can believe they are worth less than others.

So yeah… sort of a no-brainer revelation. Oppression keeps people down. Duh.

The revelation is that day-to-day here in Zambia I’m confronted with my whiteness and privilege. Day to day here I also see how beautiful Zambians are and how they have an inner light and motivation that is fighting for a better life. Day to day I am not reducing myself but trying to rise to meet them. I don’t want my friends and family and students here to think low of themselves for a single second. They are worthy. They are smart. They are powerful. I want them to know they have power to act and speak out. I want them to think they are beautiful. I want them to think that anyone should be able to sleep on the floor with them.  

But they might not always think these things. And that is an injustice. Not seeing your own worth is an injustice. More specifically, being kept from realizing your worth because of poverty and oppression is an injustice.

People who don’t fit the flashy cultural stereotypes of normal don’t always feel good about themselves. We need to change culture so people accept their difference as beautiful. We need to change ourselves so WE accept their difference as beautiful.

The world is too connected today for each and every one of us to NOT have a role in changing this. What we say out loud or on the internet, who we hang out with, what we eat, the clothes we wear, the stuff we buy, the jobs we have, the people we vote for, the causes we speak out for, the places you spend your time, who you donate to—ALL OF THIS MATTERS. We play a role in either oppressing or empowering others.

How we live our lives affects other people. For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Whenever we read about or encounter a problem in this world we need to think about how our own decisions and actions contribute to that problem. Is everything your fault? Of course, not! But don’t act childish and pout in a corner and blame other people. Take responsibility for being a human and think about your own decisions. You can change personal actions.

Remember what my host mom said to me…that I’m reducing myself. My mother is a beautiful, worthy human being. She is a child of God. I can only rise to meet her.

How many people feel they aren’t worthy? How many think others are better than them?

We all do in some respect, in those moments of self-doubt. I believe that none of us are the sum of our actions or appearance. When we are born and breathe and our spirit comes alive, that spirit has automatic worth. To breath is to be worthy. To be alive is to deserve a chance.

A real chance necessitates that you see yourself as worthy of that chance. You must feel empowered. But all people don’t feel empowered in this world. And that’s a problem. People don’t realize they can change their lives. And some people have more challenges to climb to change their lives—that is the true injustice. 

Anyone who feels different can fall into this malicious trap. People feel different when they don’t fit in, when they don’t see themselves on TV shows, when they don’t see themselves in politicians, or when they can’t get the jobs or education they want. They feel different when their reality doesn’t fit affluent, white culture. They certainly feel different when they are stuck in poverty.

So feeling different is a culture issue, and we all contribute to this as creators and sustainers of culture globally and locally.

I’m not expecting us all to wake up one day and be the same. That would be impossible, and truly detrimental. I do hope, though, that one day people wake up and not feel that their difference is inferior or a reduction, or that someone else thinks so.

We can all help make a world that welcomes difference. We can all expand our visions of what is worthy and beautiful. We need to tell each other, too. We need to remind each other that we are worthy and beautiful people. Start with your friends and family. But they probably look just like you, so try to step out of your comfort zone and find someone who doesn’t look like you. Find someone who might be feeling different, who might feel they are bucking cultural norms and feel unworthy. Remind them they are worth every breath and every opportunity. Remind them to keep fighting for their right to be accepted. Accept them and fight for them, too.