The Diversity Projekt
Empowerment for All People of Color
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Archive of "Family" Category
Intentions and Dimensions of Belonging
Anyone who has been around TDP for a while, knows that I struggle a lot with finding a real, meaningful sense of community. I don’t always feel like I belong. I’ve always felt not quite a part of, floating on the margins. I am transnational – German and American. I am a military kid. These things complicate how the world seems me and how I perceive that I fit into the world. My family is no exception to that. I look different than the rest of my family. They are white. I am not. Although we rarely if ever speak of the elephant in the room, there is no denying that. TDP’s recent crisis of identity has a lot to do with my not wanting to hurt my family, nor do I want to alienate them through my words. Nevertheless, I can only speak to my experiences growing up and how they have and continue to impact my quest for self. Their perceptions of certain events often differ from mine. That doesn’t make either of our experiences more or less valid. I think sometimes parents don’t want to see certain things and I think children often process events and experiences differently. The lenses through which we view the world are often very different.How I see myself within my own family is no exception. Aesthetics are the most obvious. I knew that I didn’t look like my parents or sister from a young age. The elephant in the room was glaring to everyone including my family, but no one really talked about it more than one or two times. This had a profound impact on my identify formation, my sense of self. For good or bad, I have grown comfortable living in-between various worlds. While I share many of the same values as my family, an ideological divide has grown over the years. I am queer and left leaning (hell, I am almost horizontal). We have different ideas about fairness, justice, race, class, gender,…..privilege. My mother often dismisses my positions by making some sort of generation/age statement….as if my almost 30 years on the planet haven’t given me the right to form equally valued opinions about the world around me. Again….different does not equate to of more or lesser value.
My bi-cultural, transnational identity is probably the most complicated and murky of my interlocking identities. Depending on which site of the ocean I am standing on (or with whom I am speaking), I am either too German or too American. The notion that both can co-exist equally at the same time seems unfathomable to some, even to me at times. I often feel myself pressured to choose, or even more painful, having to defend one or the other. I am equally protective and defensive (and apologetic) about both. Perhaps it wasn’t just me that was different, but my entire family. I always felt that it was much easier for my sister to fit into both worlds, despite her linguistic barrier. People are less likely to challenge her German-ness. Clearly I don’t fit the image of a stereotypical German. It has taken me a long time to begin to come to terms with my mixed-race identity. It’s something I struggle with today.
It is disappointing that while I feel a part of several communities that are dear to me, I am most affected by the communities (and people) who have rejected me. I am not sure if my bio-father disappearing constitutes his rejecting me. I am not exactly sure what happened back then. Nevertheless, his current behavior definitely feels like rejection. How can you know that your child is out there (and know how how to find her), yet make absolutely no effort to connect? How can you have more regard for the children of the women you date than for those you have a biological connection to? Can you sense my anger? I realize that DNA isn’t enough to build a true foundation on, but it should be enough for some kind of meaningful contact…..a card maybe?! I hate to admit it but, he has caused more upheaval and trauma in my life over the last 2 years than in the previous 28.
I don’t really believe in new years resolutions. Every new day is an opportunity for re-birth and change. Nevertheless, as I am turning 30 this year, I did set a few goals for myself. Instead of focusing on where I feel like I don’t belong, I want to make more of an effort to accept the many ways I am valued and accepted in my life. Although it may not seem overtly obvious all the time, I am a part of several meaningful and vital communities. Although I am from the other side of the Atlantic, I feel very much apart of the Black German community here in America. I identify more with their alienation than the alienation of my cohorts in Germany. Although it is complicated, I am certainly more accepted here.
I feel extremely blessed to be part of the Swirl family. It’s one of the only communities in my life where I don’t feel pressure to identify or define myself. In fact, I am not sure if any of us have actually asked each other the million dollar question – “What are you?” It is such a relief to just be accepted, regardless of my “makeup”. I have the opportunity to help other mixed-folk feel good about their diversity – creating a community that I did not have growing up. I want mixed-kids to develop a positive self-image and feel proud of their mixed heritage.
As of late I also feel very strongly connected to “my” butch-femme community. I say “my” bf community because I am not sure if there is one bf community per se. It’s a community of my own choosing, woven together not necessarily by geography but by shared values, ethics and mutual respect and adoration. While I have been femme as long as I can remember, this community aspect of my life is new and I haven’t really wrapped my mind around it sufficiently. So stay tuned as there is definitely more to come on this. Nevertheless, I think it represents a powerful model for community formation. It’s intentional, organic, and profoundly life-altering. I can’t wake up tomorrow and choose not to be American or German. I am not saying that I want to stop being one or the other. That’s not the point that I am coming to. However, the expectations, pressures, stereotypes and preconceived notions that come along with those identities are not of my own making. It has taken me years to feel empowered as a mixed-chick. Mind you, I say mixed chick…..not as German or American. I find beauty and joy in my mixedness. It’s the only way I actually make sense, how the world makes sense to me. The journey through which I came to consciousness about my mixed identity was very intentional and organic. Hmm, perhaps that is what it is all about.
Lessons Learned…or something like that!
One of my favorite movies is The Holiday! It has all of the ingredients that makes for a good Hollywood love story, especially a holiday love story. You have the Playboy (Jude Law), the Goofball (Jack Black), the Heartbroken Girl Next Door (Kate Winslet), and the Beautiful Success Producer (Cameron Diaz). Two women, jilted by love in their own unique way, trade homes for the Holidays, only to find love half way around the world.
Of course there was the happy ending, but not until after the conflict. What is the conflict, you ask? Well, that’s complicated. You have a dash of unrequited love and testosterone inspired head games, but in the end the biggest hurdle is the distance, at least for the Playboy and the Producer. The Playboy lives outside of London with his two girls (his wife died a few years ago) and the Producer lives in LA. Neither of them travel to each other’s city. They are at an empass. Although the movie has an extremely happy, mushy ending, you never learn how they deal with their distance.When I first saw that movie I said to myself “I will never ever date someone long distance.” It had always been my line in the sand relationship wise. The only reason I even considered dating Dawn was because had applied to Rice before we got together. I would have been in Houston anyway. However, when I decided on Villanova, I ended things with her. I wasn’t negotiating. Little did I know that I would meet someone who captured my heart and turn my world upside down to such an extent that I would rethink my position on long distance. I actually never gave the distance a thought. I knew from the first conversation that the distance was temporary. I didn’t know who would move or when or how, but I knew that we would work through it.
Nevertheless, I have had to learn to process a whole host of emotions unique to long distance relationships, or maybe they are just unique to me. I have never missed anyone before, at least not someone I have dated. I am learning how to balance missing the Medic while not coming off to needy. I am not sure how much I succeed at this, but it is a work in progress. I have learned to listen more and talk less. Yes, this is a challenge for me in general, but long distance requires a while different set of communication skills that I didn’t really posses in the past.
Patience. I am not a patient person. I gave up working on that years ago. Instant gratification is highly under rated (kinda like nap time). The last 20 days have been challenging. I know people have been doing long distance for years, see each other once every month or two. I am pretty aware of what I can and can’t do and, that would be right at the top of my list. Ok, so back to my point – 20 days is way too long to not see the Medic. So, we are working on an every other weekend kind of deal. The Medic’s schedule is far more flexible than mine, but I am working things out. I may be able to work remotely on more occasions. I am still trying to figure that one out. I know that I am not a patient person but I am extremely intentional about what this transition means for the Medic. Cryptic, right?!
Vulnerability. I sometimes find myself completely incapable of communicating how I feel. What’s at the heart of this? Feeling vulnerable – I’m not good at it. Well, that isn’t completely true. I am better at certain aspects than others. While I can allow myself to be physically vulnerable with the Medic, being emotionally vulnerable is a whole other issue. I was mortified when I burst into tears in front of her during a visit to the Tundra. Perhaps that is the German part of me. All the messy stuff is to be kept behind closed doors – the crying, the self-doubt, the chaos. I am not saying that I am stone cold or that I don’t allow for the bringing down of walls. I share many of my layers with the Medic, but it has been a process. I’ve let down a lot of walls. I am not sure if it would have been so natural to do so if we had been living in the same city from the beginning. I think that I would have probably asked for more space. Not that I am totally sold on won over to the idea of long distance, but there are some benefits. Like the extent to which you get to know someone, beyond the surface. You have to cut through all of that, all the niceties and reach to the core of a person. Otherwise I think you would lose interest fast if things remain shallow.
I feel like I am completely off from where I set out to take this post. I am not sure if I have an actual point. I started it when I was having a moment. I hit my threshold of how long I could be separated from the Medic. I didn’t want to seem too needy, so I began to write. I hate being or seeming needy. Or is it admitting that I need her? I’ve never really felt like I needed someone in my life. Is there really a difference? All I can say is that I am working on it.
Breaking through..
TDP has been quiet for a while, but I am definitely back. I’ve been battling some writer’s block. Work has been incredibly busy. Salsa is also taking up a good portion of my time, especially now that I am committed to the Spring 2010 Showcase.
So, here is a little run down of where Kathrin has been and why TDP took a bit of a mini-vaca:
Work
I just celebrated my first year at NSC. We have accomplished a lot in that first year. Nevertheless, many things have still been left undone and year two will be packed with new fundraising, outreach and advocacy initiatives. Some exciting things are in the works and I will be sure to share them with you as soon as they are cleared for release.
Simple Living
I moved out of my old apartment in NE Philadelphia and now call Center City Philadelphia home. I sold a lot of my furniture in the process and sorted through dozens of boxes of belongings. The purge was liberating – truly! It’s amazing how much free time I have now – no more 2+hours of daily commute time. My commute these days is 15 minutes door to door.
Healthy Living
I finally have my act together health living wise. Since starting salsa I have shed almost 50lbs (since starting weight watchers about 40lbs). I have tons more energy and just feel better all the way around. Everyone says they can see it in my face. I shall take their word for it, because I can’t tell.
Salsa
I have been taking salsa classes at Estilo Dance Studio for several months now and am completely hooked. I am finally at that point where I can let go enough to feel the music versus just focusing on the steps. I am officially committed to performance class. We are really getting into the choreography, and I am shocked that we are only 23 seconds into a 3 minute routine. I am up for the challenge though. This is going to be kick ass!
Family
My dad comes home in 5 days. He has been stationed abroad for 2 years. Time did not go by as fast as I wanted it to, but the important thing is that he is home. I will be spending 4 days with my family in Florida. It’s good to have the entire family together again for Christmas. Last year felt all wrong! I will be sure to post lots of photos and even some video clips. My camera and Flip will be coming with me…..along with my laptop of course. I don’t expect to be on too much, but will update periodically.
My sister joined the Army a few weeks ago. It’s a great move for her. She is at her unit today getting fitted for her uniform. She leaves for basic training in March, followed immediately by specialized training – paramedic - and won’t be home until sometime in September. My mom gets the sense that she will petition to go active once everything is said and done. This raises the likelihood of her deployment, but we will cross that bridge when we get there.
SwirlPhilly
SwirlPhilly has been a bit silent with work picking up and my recent move. But, I am happy to announce that we are back on track. Our Holiday Happy Hour is Monday, December 21 at Rum Bar. Please join us! Several new people are attending, so it should be a fun crowd! We will also be talking about upcoming events and activities….and fundraising (I have been exploring a few possibilities).
Someone New
There is definitely something brewing. It’s sweet and gentle, yet rough around the edges. I will definitely write more about this once some boundaries are set and I figure a few things out. I will probably post more regularly about this under the privacy filter. Hit me up off-line for the password. It is unexpected to say the least, but the timing could not be more perfect. For now, let’s just say that I am really content!
….more to come! Happy Hump Day!
In the Lexicon of Hate
This post is long overdue. I started writing weeks ago but got distracted by work.
I get distracted easily – sometimes to my own peril! Case in point – I was on the bus several days ago (weeks at this point) trying to finish my much overdo Citizenship Day post. Everything was hunky dory. One glance to the street and I came face to face with a big ole’ confederate flag license plate on a Ford pickup truck.
I never get used to seeing that symbol of hate, especially up north. I almost expect it when I travel to a southern state. But, in a northern state it seems out of place – at first glance anyway! Reality is that the meaning ascribed to the confederate flag has shifted from being a symbol of the antebellum south to being firmly rooted in the lexicon of iconography of racism and xenophobia that has and continues to permeate through American culture and politics. The Mason Dixon line remains an artifact in the racist history of the United States, but does little to serve as a line of demarcation. The confederate flag and all that it represents flies in all 50 states.
As a quick primer for people not in the know, a confederate flag first made its appearance in March of 1861. The confederate flag would evolve to include thirteen stars (symbolizing the 13 states that seceded from the union). Not until March 1865 did it begin to resemble the current incarnation of the confederate flag that we have come to know. During World War II, Southern soldiers began to use the Confederate “battle flag” (aka “southern cross” or “rebel flag”) as their unofficial emblem. While the official use of the confederate battle flag is quite rare, it has become fossilized as one of the primary symbols of “southern” pride. (I am not sure how much pride someone should have in racism and hate, but to each their own, right?) Apparently residents in most southern states can request a license plate tag featuring the Sons of the Confederate Veterans logo. Brilliant, no?
This brings me to my most recent Christmas experience. To say that it was interesting would be an understatement. My mom spent the holiday with my Dad in Germany. (For those of you new to my blog, my dad is in the US Army and currently stationed abroad). My sister, niece and I drove up to Georgia to spend time with some of her friends. I have never felt more out of place and uncomfortable. I spent much of the long weekend at a neighbors house or visiting friends.
Of course I was the one being inappropriate and “rude” by taking issue with being surrounded by the confederate flag – blankets, screen savers…even confederate Christmas songs. I should not have to explain to my family why I (as a mixed chick) feel uncomfortable in the presence of these images and people who wear them proudly. Sometimes I wonder if it ever crosses their mind that these images are not an appropriate symbol of southern culture – other than as a reminder that hate and bigotry are alive and well in this country, that the South’s ugly past is not behind it. Many couch the meaning of the confederate flag in the debate of states rights. “Southern states were defending their states’ right enumerated in the Constitution.” But, let’s finish that sentence, shall we?! They were defending their states right to uphold the institution of slavery – an institution that viewed and treated blacks as less than chattel!
I have been sitting on this post for far too long. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but I am also not going to edit myself away. Needless to say, I don’t want to ever be put into that kind of position again, especially by family. I take as much responsibility for not advocating for myself as much as I should have. Lessons learned….
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