June 18 I read part of what I wrote in my journal today. This was what I wanted to do so badly but was dreading the most. My heart was racing as I read aloud my private thoughts. I let these seven strangers take a look into my heart. Of course I didn�t make it through without crying. It was a relief to me to have the non-white members of the group applaud me. I wasn�t expecting to get snaps from *****. I was expecting condemnation and blame. I was expecting them to look the same way as the men in the video. They said that I finally have a voice. They seemed to respect where I was coming from. I�m glad that I ignored my fear of sharing and just went for it. ***** expressed that he was really fearful about thinking about this too much. I�m not sure that he thought about what he was getting into. I know I didn�t. It�s going to take a lot of courage from him to open his mind. This is scary! You�re changing your view of the world, but it�s even scarier to change your view of yourself. No one wants to look at those demons. It�s easier just to let them remain inside. June 23 Yesterday was our first day in Atlanta. Whoa buddy! Complete culture shock! Not only are we in the middle of the city with some run down buildings and people walking around all of the time�we�re at an all black college. It�s hard to describe how it feels to be a white woman here. When we were walking around, I felt like I really needed to stay next to **** or ****. **** somehow because I felt like if someone saw that I was with a black woman then I was safe. ***** because I thought if they saw me with a disabled woman they would think I was accepting. That was totally lame of me. I cannot believe that Mr. Sheats didn�t even bother to ask me or **** our names. I got the feeling that he did not like white people. I don�t think he had anything to say to white people. When ****, ***** and I were standing with him�we talked about the weather. The weather! He didn�t talk to ***** or ***** about the weather. Maybe the three of us were giving off weird vibes. I know that I was very uncomfortable. I told the group that I was feeling extra smiley yesterday. I didn�t want to be a threat, and I wanted everyone to like me. Right now I get the sense that people don�t want me here. If I don�t say hi or smile at someone�I get a dirty or just a weird look. It�s really confusing. I wonder what these peoples� lives are like. How many times have they walked down the street feeling like I did? How many times has a white man called them young man or young lady without caring to know their names? How many times have they felt like they didn�t belong? How many stares have they received in their lifetimes? I�m going to have to realize throughout this trip that my situation is different from theirs. Mine is not permanent. In this situation, I am still of the race in power. What does that mean for me here? Does it mean that I will be hated or will people recognize what I�m doing here and applaud my efforts? There are just too many questions going through my mind to write them down. It�s crazy for me to think that this is *****�s job. She lives and breathes this stuff. I adore her passion. I hope that I can get anywhere close to that and have it last. June 23 We just got back from the MLK museum. I wish I could describe and even recognize all of the things I�m feeling. I didn�t feel like I had a right to be there. There were very few white people around and I felt like people were staring at me. They were looking me up and down �why is she here?� I feel like this is a part of black culture, but I also realize that many white people participated in the struggle. There was a picture of people sitting at a lunch counter protesting. They had food and drinks thrown on them. People were staring at them with such hate. Two of those people were white. I realized that this is a part of my history as well, but I wish it were also a part of my family history. I have no pride in that. After looking at that picture and getting some sense of belonging, I saw a photo of a hanging. A black man was hanging from a tree. His eyes were almost popping out of his head, and it looked like he had bitten into his tongue. He was dead, and all of these people were just looking at him. They had come to watch this man die. I was drawn to the face of this little girl. She was white, about eight or nine, and was standing next to her father. She had a look on her face that was so disturbing. It was like she was either about to laugh or restraining herself from laughing. She was staring at this dead man hanging in front of her with a smirk on her face. That is what I think of when I think of white people. That one face just seems to wipe away the works of all other white people. That hate covers up the love. That ignorance makes all the education seem in vain. All I feel is hopelessness. June 26 We�ve only worked at CAM for two days, but I am already so in love with these kids. I didn�t want to leave today. I realize that I need to be wary of these good feelings, but I can�t help it. All they do is hug you and tell you stories. It�s easy for me to forget how their lives really are, and maybe that�s a good thing while I�m here. Today we went outside to play. I went with some kids to play kickball in a field near the school. I looked behind the uncompleted chain link fence to see at least five homeless people. The kids didn�t even seem to notice or care. Homelessness is a part of their everyday lives. I prayed today before I went in. It was a long prayer. I had God�s strength with me today. I�ve realized that I can only do this through Him and for Him. I�m having a hard time trying to think about this whole trip. I�m having way too many thoughts at once and I can�t even begin to try to identify the emotions I�m experiencing. Love, anger, sadness, frustration, guilt, maternal feelings, depression, joy, emptiness, confusion, hopelessness. I wish that it didn�t have to just be a week. I wish I could take these kids home with me and give them not only what they need but what they deserve. No child should suck his thumb at age ten. No child should get in trouble for falling asleep when she can�t sleep well at home because of gunfire and police sirens. No child should be yelled at twenty-four hours a day. It�s not right. Why are they the ones who have to go through this? So many of them are so sweet and just need to be loved. The balance of the world seems to be thrown off somehow. |
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