Speak American

This morning I watched a video of an older lady in line at a mall in Louisville, Kentucky, completely berating a pair of Latina women for no reason. [The video claims that one of the women stepped in front of her to join her friend in line; hardly a felony] The older woman, in one of the worst showings of racism and bigotry that I've seen on social media, unleashed a barrage of slurs and horrendous claims, telling the women to "Go back from where the f*ck you come from," and "You're probably on welfare. We probably paid for all that stuff." When one of the Latina women tried to tell her - in English - "I say sorry," the older woman replied, "It's OK. Speak English. You're in America."

This raises something that I can't help but share today. As you know, I'm currently living in a foreign country. In this country, I am afforded certain privileges and rights, given my particular job with a U.S. government organization. When I see things like this video, I can't help but ponder what it must be like to be a minority living in the United States these days. My goodness, the contrast that must exist. Politics aside, there seems to be an ever-growing fear of the unknown when it comes to foreigners, and it's heartbreaking. 

I just checked the United State of America's Wikipedia page, and - wouldn't you know it - under the section entitled Official Language, it says None at a federal level. Interesting. So, regardless of the state in which you find yourself, there is no official language of the good ol' U.S. of A. And yet, what is the long-running joke? "You're in America! Speak American!" 

I'm aware that the older woman didn't say "Speak American" in the video, but she did make an error in her explanation. Telling the women they're "in America" is about as vague as it gets. The funny thing here is that unless these women are from Spain or Portugal, they are undoubtedly from America. Most of you will understand this already, but think of what it means when you say America: both continents of North and South America qualify. So a person from Ushuaia, Argentina, near the southern tip of the continent, has just as much right to claim themselves as an American as someone born in the urban jungle of New York, New York, or the plains of rural Nebraska.

Me and my (Central) American family

Back to the video. Something strikes a chord in me about the way this older woman felt so comfortable acting like that in front of complete strangers. She had no shame whatsoever casting loud and biting judgment on these otherwise innocent women. My heart goes out to the minority in the United States today. I'm not speaking about the current political leadership nor its landscape. I'm talking about the average small town where someone of a different race is trying to make ends meet but is fighting an ever-steepening uphill battle against seemingly impossible odds.

I was born into a middle-class, white, USAmerican family. In other words, I hit the damn jackpot. That said, living in a different country has exposed me to what it is to be that different person. To be looked at and, quite possibly, judged. But even so, because of my particular genetic makeup, I end up getting treated - on average - so much better than other minorities in other countries, including the good ol' U. S. of A.

So what's the solution? Well, I'd say that in order to find the solution, we need to better understand the problem. What is it that divides us? As I mentioned before, I believe it's a basic fear of the unknown. I imagine it unfolding like this:

The line at the supermarket is long. The Latina mother of three is trying to quiet her youngest child's cries while she waits her turn to purchase diapers, groceries, and other basics for her family. As she shuffles closer to the cash register, she glances over her shoulder and sees a tall, middle-aged man wearing a red hat looking - literally and figuratively - down on her. The toddler won't stop crying, and the man mutters something under his breath about a wall being built. The high school boys between the Latina mother and the man overhear the comment and start to giggle among themselves. The mother, bilingual and completely aware of what the man said, decides to play dumb and act as if she didn't understand what the comment was about. She offers an obviously fake smile and turns back to face the cash register. The older man feels accomplished, as if he's fulfilled his duty as an American, the young boys got a little laugh in, and the Latina woman and her family feel a little less welcome. And the cycle continues. Little do the man or the youngsters know, that mother of three works from home - legally - on her college degree while her husband works at the local factory - legally - assembling the very vehicles that the man and the high schoolers will get into once they've finished their business here.

Do you see the disconnect? Do you see the problem? It's a massive breakdown in communication. It's one of the saddest examples of misunderstanding I can imagine, and it really does break my heart. So many ridiculous assumptions made. So many needless, hurtful comments hurled at minorities for nothing more than being different, for looking different, for sounding different. 

I know that the majority of people who would read this may not be Spanish speakers, but do you know how beautiful the Spanish language really is? You don't have to be fluent to hear the beauty in the rhythm of it. To hear the accent as it dances from syllable to syllable. I've been completely enamored with it since I began re-learning it back in February of last year. And so it amazes me that some people would lose their mind when they're asked to press a button on their cell phone to select English, meanwhile sweating each second they have to endure hearing a Spanish sentence. 

I honestly hope and pray that we as USAmericans can find a way to be more welcoming and loving to our fellow man and woman, no matter how different he or she may look or sound. If I can help in that, I want to. I've had interesting conversations recently about what will come following the end of my service, and it's become clear that there's a corner of passion in me that wants to see this injustice come to a swift end. We'll see what happens.

I'm proud to be an American, and I know so many others who'd say the same thing - in a completely different language.