RISING TO THE CHALLENGE

Kim Douglas

I would like to begin my address today by saying that I’m delighted to be here, in Ireland, home of one of my favorite poets, Eavan Boland. I first came across Eavan Boland’s work reading The American Poetry Review. Her essay about the challenges of being a woman, a mother, and a poet resonated with me. She articulated what I’m sure many female poets think, share amongst ourselves and in classrooms, perhaps even write about but have not published. She explored powerful questions. Why shouldn’t motherhood and the tasks of mothering have a place in literature? Why couldn’t poems about such tasks relegated to women coexist and receive the same consideration as poems about the activities and musings of men? How could we end the tendencies of gender inequality from continuing to creep into contemporary poetics? These questions gave me hope—hope that what I, as a woman, bear witness to and translate into art is just as worthy as what a man bears witness to and translates into art, and though we have not yet arrived at a place in literature and poetics where the writings of women are given the same regard, we are continuing to make progress because of women like Boland who do not remain silent about the inequality that exists, about the lack of regard to one-half of the world’s inhabitants who are contributing to the arts yet not acknowledged.

Boland rather than trying to emulate the male poets who have been honored—you know them—Yeats, for one—followed the stirrings and promptings of her heart and soul, wrote poems about mothering, about living in the suburbs, about the ordinary world to which she bore witness. She continues to successfully challenge tradition, and having rightfully earned her place in the international contemporary literary scene, she is heard and respected, and has, by doing so, given permission to younger aspiring poets to write about the worlds they bear witness to, whether those worlds are regarded by the established literary canon as the stuff, the proper stuff of literature.

As a poet, a professor, a woman, a mother, I am grateful to Boland. I hold her in my heart as a poet worthy of emulating. I seek her courage and strength in examining traditions rather than blindly imitating them. I seek her eloquence in expressing my perceptions and my decisions, especially those decisions that stray from the norm.

I would also like to begin today by calling to mind my great grandmother, Ingrid Evans. Despite the resistance from many of her family and peers, she decided to venture from Norway to America at the age of 17. Instead of blindly imitating tradition, she listened to the promptings of her heart and soul, and all alone she boarded a ship waving good-bye to the comfortable and familiar and journeyed into the unknown.

Like her, I have followed the stirrings of my heart, listened to my dreams, and pursued paths that were not expected of me. I obtained advanced degrees in creative writing, when my father urged me to consider nursing or marriage, more practical avenues. But at the age of eighteen, I wanted to study and travel, not get married. I could barely stand the sight of blood, so nursing school didn’t seem a favorable option. I felt distressed by my parents’ anguish but the promptings of my heart were so strong, I listened.

Though I met my mother-in-law after departing from my childhood home and building an adult life, I recognized in her the kind of courage and independence I so admired. Barbara Douglas, a unique and rare woman for her time period, studied and received degrees from the University of Michigan. She journeyed alone to China to study Oriental Art and in that journey into the unknown, the Japanese invaded China and she with the help of the Chinese fled on foot and after a year crossed the border and returned to the United States. She also embarked on a journey when she married my father-in-law, Carlyle Douglas, and what a break from tradition that was. At a time when interracial marriage was outlawed in 27 states of America, she proceeded to follow the stirrings of her heart, the power of love propelling her forward

When I met Barbara, I was somewhat amused by her distrust of whites, a distrust that bordered on dislike. I tried to understand her emotions. She was a pioneer for interracial marriage, and as a pioneer suffered through a lot due to the time period in which she lived, a rather childish time period in relation to some of the laws and behaviors that existed. But I firmly believed that it was a new day. David and I would not experience near the challenges my in-laws did. I felt gratitude to Barbara and Carlyle for paving the way for people like David and me. Our ease would truly be a result of their risks and courage.

So I thought. So deep was my naivety.

David and I are going on fifteen years of marriage. We have what I like to consider a healthy marriage, one that has allowed each of us to grow as individuals and together. Marriage is work, hard work. In fact, I recall the words of a professor of sociology who opened a session on marriage at a conference I attended years before I married by stating, "Don’t fool yourself. Getting married is the hardest work you will ever do." Those sensational feelings of love one experiences in courtship and early marriage often diminish with the inevitable challenges of two lives coming together. The primary causes for divorce are differences in financial matters, child-rearing methods, and sex. Those causes are the very stuff of marriage. Couples must deal with the practical affairs of life—money, household, if there are children—then children, and yes, sex. Add racial and cultural differences to what already challenges all couples, and the journey is guaranteed to provide opportunities to develop muscles and strengths a couple might not even realize they would develop. I have limped on occasion, in developing a muscle I didn’t even realize I had.

One of the first challenges I experienced was prior to our marriage when I called home and shared the wonderful news with my Mom that I had met someone, that special someone, who was different than any other man I had known, who had numerous qualities I found incredibly attractive. She asked a few questions, excited for me. Where is he from," was one of the questions she asked me. "Benton Harbor, Michigan," I responded.

"He’s black, isn’t he?" she then asked.

I paused, surprised by her question. "Sort of," I responded.

"Sort of. What does that mean."

"It means that he’s part black. He’s bi-racial," I said. "His father is African American, his mother is European American."

"Don’t tell your father, whatever you do."

"Mom, I really like him. How can I not tell Dad. This is definitely a more serious relationship than any I’ve ever had."

"Just don’t tell your father, do you understand."

I sighed. "So, how did you guess, Mom?"

"Benton Harbor. I know about that town. It’s one of the worst in America. And it’s all Black."

"One of the worst? By whose standards?"

"I don’t know, but it was in Time magazine. I just read the article a few months ago. Benton Harbor’s right near St. Joseph, which was rated as one of the best places to live. Strange that two communities could be so opposite."

I couldn’t follow my Mom’s advice to not tell my Dad. A couple of months later I wrote from my small one-bedroom apartment in Tucson where I was in my first year of graduate school at the University of Arizona, I wrote my Dad a letter informing him that I was in love and David was bi-racial and I knew this might be an issue but I hoped he would want to meet David at Christmas. He was not at all interested and suggested I carry on with my life and do what I needed to do just as he would do what he needed to do, which was to not meet David.

For some young adults a response like this from a parent may not be problematic For me, however, as a Baha’i, my Dad’s approval of the relationship was not only important but necessary for me to marry. Though David and I hadn’t really discussed marriage at this point, we both sensed the relationship could evolve into marriage. Meeting my Dad would be vital. Receiving his blessing, a Baha’i law that was designed to promote family unity, a law we respected and wanted to follow.

That Christmas came and went and there was no meeting. I returned to Tucson. David and I continued to phone each other---yes, spending way too much money gabbing. We thought we’d try my father again. Both David and I were going to be in the Chicago area that spring. Initially, my Dad remained firm. No meeting. But then something odd happened. My Grandparents who had heard about David told my Dad to get off it, to hedge a little, to at least meet the guy.

I sometimes wonder if my Grandparents were worried about me becoming an "Old Maid," so to speak. I was nearing 32. All of my other female cousins had married. My younger brother was married. My Grandparents were from a generation where women didn’t typically go to college but married, and married young. I have pondered this because their response to my Dad was such a surprise. They had made comments about Black people, and Mexicans, and people who were, well darker than them. Now it didn’t seem to matter. Meet the guy, they were telling my Dad. Had to be my age. Or a genuine miracle.

My Dad listened. Concerned about the reactions of his parents, other relatives, and the neighbors, my Dad’s early response allowed him the relief of possibly not having to deal with anyone’s response. Now, his parents were saying, go ahead. My Mom was talking about what she would cook. And a date was set.

Our dinner was a modern version of "Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner," an old American movie with Spencer Tracy, Katharine Hepburn and Sidney Poitier. No dumb blunders were made by my parents, if I recall right. It was what happened after David left that revealed my Dad’s true feelings. He was a gentleman during dinner, conversed with David quite easily, laughed, listened, and kept his emotional turmoil concealed. When David left, though, his first remark to me was "He’s the man you’re going to marry."

"No, Dad, we’re really not talking marriage yet."

"Kim, it’s obvious. This is the man you’re going to marry. Only a fool wouldn’t be able to see that."

At the time, I shook my head and even thought to myself, no, not yet. Even though I had sensed something very powerful the first time I met David, even though there were times I thought I could drop everything to marry him. I was in graduate school. Rather than dropping everything, which I could have done, I sensed that the right thing to do was complete my education. Also, I knew marriage was hard work. My own parents struggled in their marriage and really never seemed very close, just together, like a bad habit. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to experience a divorce. I needed to really know who I was marrying. I was attracted to David. He had a lot of qualities. In fact, I had created a list of qualities I wanted in a prospective mate and after getting to now David, I realized he had every item on the list. Even Dad had noticed his sterling character. How wonderful that David’s skin color did not blind him from recognizing the virtues he possessed. Dad even said to me, "He’s by far the finest man you’ve brought home," and then added, "It’s too bad that he’s black."

That night my Dad paced the floor. I heard him. I couldn’t sleep. It was all too much. I was in love. My Dad had agreed to and met David. My Mom had outdone herself making a fabulous dinner, using her best china. And my Dad was trying to process what he had never imagined for me—marriage to someone darker than me, someone who in America’s eyes was wrong for me, was less than me.

I did receive the infamous question, "What about your children? How can you bring children into the world who will be rejected, who won’t know where they belong. Your life is going to be a lot harder." To my parents, I responded that things were different, progress had been made, and we’d raise our children with love and healthy discipline. Many others asked questions about children with more constraint and caution than my parents—how about the children? Do you think it might be hard for them? "You know, there are millions of children who are abused, starving, abandoned, neglected. David and I want children to love and to raise with intention, loving intention, with discipline, healthy discipline. I worry more about the millions of others who are left behind."

At times, since my marriage, I have thought back to the questions about children and especially that comment my Dad made, "Your life is going to be so much harder," and I think, yes, I’ve discovered things haven’t changed as much as I had thought, life has been harder in some respects. I have become aware of the complexities of race, the present-day inequalities that persist. I have felt a range of emotions towards injustices that have struck home because of David’s race. I have realized, like my mother-in-law did during her first year of marriage that racism still festers, that some people and institutions do not see through the color of one’s skin to their character, that fairness is reserved for some and not all, that the constitution expresses ideals not reality, and that in fact the constitution had embedded in it at one time laws that upheld slavery and inequality.

Would I go back in time and say, "Sorry, David, I’m not up for this journey. I don’t think I can climb the rugged path I see ahead?"

No.

In facing the variety of challenges of being in a cross-cultural marriage, I have grown immensely and gained a more realistic perspective of the world. I have developed an immense yearning for racial and ethnic unity. Such unity is a prerequisite for world peace, and my life has unfolded so that I have been blessed to better understand the barriers to this kind of unity. Dismantling personal and institutional discrimination can not be achieved without tackling these barriers.

Let me take a moment and explain the differences between prejudice and racism, and personal and institutional discrimination, as this is a question often asked of me in classes and talks. Prejudice as I’m sure most of you know, means to prejudge. We all do it. We classify to make some order out of the chaos of existence. However, when scientists started to classify human beings and make judgments about people based on their physical features, myth was born. Faulty science created racial and ethnic categories. More recently scientists have corrected this early faulty science and established that there is one race—the human race. We are 97% genetically the same. Yet wars persist. Ethnic cleansing occurs. People and institutions continue to judge and treat others based on stereotypes and perceptions that continue to exist and impact the quality of people’s lives. When we make prejudgments about one another based on race, ethnicity, gender, religion, or other information we receive about someone before getting to know him or her, that is prejudice. When prejudicial thoughts get turned into action, when others are treated differently because of their skin color or ethnicity, then we are dealing with discrimination. Racism or discrimination involve behaviors and actions towards others. Personal prejudice and racism are carried out among individuals. Insensitive responses from others, often loaded with stereotypes are a form of personal prejudice, as are resistance, stares, and uninvited responses and analyses from others. Institutional prejudice or racism, however, is a system of advantages and disadvantages based on race and ethnicity, embedded in the very fabric of society and the institutions that make up that society—the government, the educational system, the religious institutions, the media, the workplace, the healthcare systems, and the family.

One of the challenges cross-cultural families often experience is personal prejudice and racism. The reason for this is that most of us, if not all of us, have acquired the tendencies of our respective nations and our families. We have inherited erroneous perceptions of one another from the various institutions that make-up our societies: the media, government, houses of worship, schools, workplace, and our families. None of us is freed. Even those of us who marry across cultural or racial lines. I wish I could stand before you and claim that I am prejudice free but I can not. I can tell you that I have made a commitment to become aware of the faulty notions I have inherited and to clear my heart and mind of these weeds as best as I am able.

I’ll share a couple of stories to illustrate my own ignorance. Several years back I returned to my home in Michigan from a professional conference I had attended. The landing at Grand Rapids Airport was terrible. The plane seemed to just drop and fly forward and drop and fly forward and then the actual landing was loud and bumpy. Relieved to have survived this horrific landing, I walked down the aisle of the plane toward the exit and spotted the pilot. A woman. She said good-bye to us, and I caught myself thinking, "No wonder. A woman pilot." That’s embarrassing to admit. I’m a woman. I’d like to think I fully believe that women are as capable as men, but I have inherited the message that women are not as capable as men and that message pops up every now and then, and truly haunts me.

Another time, when in our country there were race riots going on in Los Angeles after the Rodney King conviction, I was watching the news with David one night. The scene involved several square blocks of a neighborhood in Los Angeles, blocks that were burning with anger and actual fires that had been set. Numerous African Americans were screaming and hurling glass and destroying the neighborhood. I shook my head and said to David, "Why are they all destroying their own neighborhoods?" David looked at me and said, "Kim, repeat what you just said." I repeated the question in my head, knowing I said something wrong, and I realized right away how loaded my words were. "They" and "all" and "their own" were words I disdained. I realized the power of the media got me good. I was seeing a handful of African Americans upset by the verdict and using language that indicated I thought all Africans Americans in Los Angeles were hell bent on destroying all the neighborhoods. The media was not showing the larger number of African Americans who were not responding by using violence.

Unfortunately, I have more stories to share, but I will spare you. Suffice it to say, that I have a heart and mind that is in need of purification. I’m continually weeding my own heart. I’m continually humbled when I find myself in a situation where I spot yet another weed. The task is endless. There is a lot to disinherit. The hard work is certainly worth it. I believe that if we all focused on purifying our own souls, we could have a very different world.

Another example of personal prejudice you have heard was my family’s response to learning that David was not what they expected—a fine white man. My family, like many other white families, had preconceived ideas of Black people. And here was a partially Black man from the worst city in America—Benton Harbor, who just could not my parents initially believed, be good for me. How did I face the challenge of my own family’s resistance? Well, I prayed a lot. David and I consulted and we both were committed to following Baha’i procedures for marriage. We needed all of our parents’ blessings in order to marry. I tried to detach and see this as both a challenge and opportunity for my parents and for David and me. Thankfully, my parents managed to rise to this challenge. They agreed to meet David. They came to realize they could not judge him based on preconceived ideas they had of a group of people and of a city in our country. They took the opportunity to see with their own eyes and not through the eyes of others. They gave us their blessing. They paid for the wedding. My Dad and David developed a good relationship. My Mom has even spoken out when she hears others making racial comments.

Not every interracial couple has been so lucky. I have a student at Hope whose mother was disowned for over a year when she married an African American. They eventually came around. This student has a great relationship with her Grandparents but wonders about those old attitudes that would actually have the power to cause them to sever ties with their own daughter. She has experienced a lot of frustration with her white step-mother who doesn’t seem to understand the depth of racism. When Kelli, my student, complains about some mishap, her Mom will minimize that mishap, tell her she’s blaming everything on her race, when it’s probably not that at all. She has even used the N-word with Kelli which enrages Kelli. She believes her mother has picked this up from watching TV shows where blacks call each other by that term. Kelli can’t stand this, and sees her Mom as a racist who is doing nothing about her racism and yet she has children who are dark.

Another friend who adopted two African American little girls made the decision to stop seeing her grandfather because he could not rise above his own racism. He made negative remarks and even stated that when he died he didn’t want those little darkies at his funeral. My friend Alecia detached and set boundaries. She treated her grandfather with respect but made it clear that if he could not respect her family—all of them, she would not spend time with him. In the end, I believe he lost out. There were gatherings they didn’t go to or left because of his behavior.

While resistance to our cross-cultural unions and family lives is one challenge, yet another involves our children and their questions regarding their identities. Prior to my marriage, I had heard stories from individuals who were in interracial marriages. One of my friends Mary shared with me that her daughter came home from first grade and went into the washroom and started washing her arms with a wash cloth. She scrubbed and scrubbed and Mary asked her why she was scrubbing so hard. Her response was that she wanted to wash off her skin. Someone at school had said she was the color of dirt.

Tragically, this is a common story and appears in a lot of literature. Even social scientists have conducted tests on children. One study conducted about 20 years ago involved bringing together children , presenting them with white and brown dolls and asking numerous questions, such as which doll is smarter, which doll is prettier, which doll do you want to keep. An overwhelming majority of children equated all the positive attributes with the white dolls, revealing to the scientists how even four-year-olds had internalized the standards of the dominant culture.

A friend of mine whose daughter was born in China shared with me that when she traveled to China to pick up her daughter she was stunned by the dolls sold in stores throughout China. They were mostly white dolls with blue eyes and looked nothing like the majority of the population there. I’ve heard from others who have traveled to various countries that the white doll syndrome has affected many nations even where the inhabitants are not fair-skinned. .

Realizing this before I had children, made me eager to provide multi-cultural toys and dolls for my children. Both of our daughters have read storybooks written by writers of various ethnicities. They have read books that discusses the beauty of our physical differences. They understand skin color is a result of the amount of melanin in one’s skin. At the age of three, Aleah requested to watch the video "Calling All Colors," a short documentary on a conference for children to allow them to explore and discuss the issue of race. This conference, initiated by an eight-year-old, Anisa Kintz, involved creative activities, such as dancing, skits, and games to allow children to interact with one another and learn about racial differences. Aleah loved watching the dancing and skits. She loved the music. I loved the fact that one child made such a difference. Anisa Kintz launched an event that has now occurred around the world in over 250 territories. David, my husband, is currently involved in planning the 6^th ‘Calling All Colors’ conference to be held in our community.

I have to admit I have spent more time introducing my daughters to their African ancestry than to their European ancestry. This is a conscious choice. The emphasis in the school system in the United States has not yet evolved to a global emphasis. The European concentration permeates our educational system from kindergarten through high school. The colleges and universities do better, though not across the entire curriculum. While we’re making progress, it’s not fast enough for those who are non-European or those of us in cross-cultural families. For many of us the institution of the family may be the only institution fully committed to educating our children so they receive some insights into the part of them that represents the non-dominant or minority culture.

As I was working on my talk, my daughters asked me what I was writing and I explained that I was writing about facing the challenges of cross-cultural marriage. We chatted for awhile, and my daughter Aleah, who is blonde and blue-eyed and passes for white, has been asked if she is mixed. David works at her school and they sometimes have lunch together. So, kids are no doubt curious. Her response to the question was to say that everyone is mixed. Anisa, who is darker than Aleah, shared that several kids have asked her if she is adopted. I was surprised by this question. Anisa said the kids say that Aleah and I look alike but Anisa doesn’t look like us. I asked her what she says, and her response was to say "no" with a particular twang to it, a tone indicating, how could you ask such a question. Both girls seemed to handle these situations rather well, and didn’t seem too disturbed by them.

To illustrate some of the challenges cross-cultural or non-dominant families experience in education, let me share with you some examples. When my daughter Aleah began kindergarten, she came home from school on October 12 and asked me, "Guess who discovered America?" I sighed, knowing where the conversation was heading. "Who?" I asked, playing along. "Columbus discovered America."

"And how did you learn about Columbus?" I asked.

"Our teacher told us."

"Hmm. She told you about Columbus, did she?"

"Yes."

"Did she talk about the Native Americans, too?"

"What Native Americans?"

"Well, there were a lot of Native Americans here before Columbus arrived."

I explained to Aleah that her Dad and I had a different point of view than her teacher. And I decided I would talk to Aleah’s teacher and bring to her a magazine we had called "Reconsidering Columbus." I didn’t mind that Aleah learned about Columbus. What I did mind was that she didn’t learn the multiple points of view about Columbus. I met with her teacher and asked if she wouldn’t mind taking a look at the magazine, that we had a different point of view about Columbus Day. She was very receptive to my concern and admitted that she felt reluctant about even mentioning Columbus Day.

During the Michigan History sequence both of our daughters experienced in 2^nd grade, I once again felt obliged to challenge how this history was taught. The curriculum itself stated that Michigan History would be taught from a multi-cultural perspective. However, on the trip I chaperoned to the Holland Museum, the docent giving the tour shared very interesting details about the Dutch immigrating to our area of Southwest, Michigan and went on to mention how the Dutch and Ottawa Natives became very good friends. Eventually, the Ottawa decided to move north. I knew this was false information. I knew from other individuals who worked at the museum that the experience of the Dutch immigrating was so painful for the Ottawa that when invited to share their perspective in a public presentation to the Holland community those Ottawa individuals related to the Ottawa that left Holland refused. It was too painful too relive those experiences. I also knew that the Heinz pickle factory was built over an Ottawa burial ground, that Dutch inhabitants moved into the homes of the Ottawa without asking. Their homes were empty because of seasonal work and migration but when the Ottawa returned to their homes, they were not welcomed back.

Once again, I felt compelled to share my displeasure and ask that something be done so that accurate information is given to our children. While I mentioned my concern to a few teachers, and a couple nodded and stated they thought that the tour wasn’t that great. Another teacher said that he thought the presentation was fine. The Dutch founded Holland and before the Dutch were here it was not Holland and therefore why was I concerned? His lack of understanding the complexities of history disturbed me.

I did write a letter to the Museum and sent copies to the principal, the 2^nd grade teachers, and the assistant superintendent of curriculum. I received a response stating that this was unfortunate and no doubt a problem with one of the docents. They assured me this did not usually happen.

But the following year, a friend of mine who happens to have bi-racial, African American and a Korean child, chaperoned her son’s 2^nd grade class to the museum. This time a docent gave the tour and Sara, my friend, said the tour was going fairly well, the docent sharing some of the challenges the Natives faced when the Dutch settled. But then, the docent said, "Well, here’s the Hispanic section of our tour. We don’t have time today for the Hispanics but we can be glad they brought Taco Bell to Holland." Other parents chaperoning were visibly distressed by this comment. Sara was mortified. The teachers made a few comments, but no one processed this with the children. What kind of message did our children receive that day? How did the Hispanic children feel? How did this impact the white children?

My friend Sara had recently lost her husband as a result of a car accident and didn’t have the energy to confront those in charge. She asked if I would, and I did. I made phone calls, and I publicly shared this story at a town meeting that precedes an annual Race Summit held in Holland. The purpose of the town meetings is to gather information.

As a result of this, I was asked to co-lead a diversity training for the docents, which I did. I felt challenged and humbled by the experience because I was training volunteers who had committed time and energy to serving as docents and most of these individuals were retired. I didn’t want to come across as some young know it all! I wanted to be respectful and mindful that while these instances did indeed happen and warranted attention and remedying, I also was still working on weeding my own heart, remedying my own misunderstandings. I had to come from that place that we are in this all together. We are all learning. I shared a story at the start of that training that I hoped would help remove any defensiveness and establish our oneness as human beings in the process of trying to grow and change.

The challenges that emerge as the educational system struggles onward are plentiful. I sympathize with teachers who are underpaid and overworked and pressured by the government to teach to meeting test scores. I sympathize with teachers who face far more than the pressure to meet test scores. They are dealing with many children who are challenged by numerous social problems and play the role of counselor, parent, minister. How little time and energy there is to make major curricular changes, to adopt new textbooks that present multiple points of view. For those teachers who are rising to the challenge, may God bless them and reward them. For those who are resistant due to all the pressures they face, may they be given energy and encouragement to forge onward. These curricular changes could be instrumental in helping us defeat some of the ails that afflict our children and youth. If our diverse children and youth are given a sense of themselves in the classroom, their pride and self esteem will be boosted. They will come to appreciate their roots and heritage, the struggles of their ancestors.

I have shared some of the challenges within the institutions of family and education. Another form of institutional racism that has struck close to home is the institution of the workplace, which just so happens to be the educational workplace since both David and I are educators. The challenges here have by far been the most painful for me, the most challenging.

During our fourth year of marriage after the birth of our daughter, Aleah, David learned from a community resident that parents were talking about him. They didn’t like the articles on race relations he was writing for the newspaper. They were concerned that "the black counselor was married to a white woman," by example, might encourage their children to date black children. Never mind that David discouraged his teenage daughter Jenai from dating. Never mind that he was very protective and very alarmed by popular culture and its effects on young people. Never mind that he was counseling elementary school kids too young to date. The parents were so concerned they went to the school board members and this African American community resident overheard conversations that they were talking about getting rid of David. David shared this with me but told me not to worry. Legally, he was protected. He would talk to the principal of the school, the superintendent, and the union representative. Busy with a new baby, I trusted due process to take its course and everything would be fine.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. David met with his superiors and was told that if they ever put him in a court room they would deny the conversation had occurred but if he wrote another article for the newspaper there was nothing they could do to save his job.

That did not silence my husband. He wrote another article and the day after it was printed, he received a phone call and was informed that there was a financial crisis and his job was being changed to work half-time in counseling and half-time in special education. David had spent ten years in special education and had decided years ago that he wanted to change his career path and focus on counseling, not teaching. This would cut down on his time counseling children and make his job more difficult. Those who hired him knew that. So this offer was not only unattractive in terms of his returning to a position that he didn’t want. I feared that this was just the beginning of more to come. The talk wouldn’t stop, so long as David kept writing, and we both didn’t want to live our lives reacting in fear to the threats of others. More importantly, this was not just. This was a result of prejudicial attitudes that resulted in outright discriminatory behavior. I was enraged!

I remember losing control of my emotions. I hollered, "They can’t do this. How is this possible? How can they treat you like this? What kind of parents are these people? What kind of people are these people?" I was stunned

I grew even more stunned when we obtained legal help only to find out there was nothing we could do. The woman who had shared all the talk she was hearing was one of the few African Americans in a community where she and her ancestors had heard talk of lynching. The danger was so real to her, she wouldn’t even consider speaking out. And no one, no one would talk about the real issues. There was a financial crisis. This was a hard decision for the district to make but it had to be done.

Providentially, David was asked to interview for another job within a couple of days and was offered that job within a week’s time. Initially, this job involved a salary cut, and we relocated within the year, which meant that I had to resign from a position teaching at a college and also meant a further economic loss.

I look back at that time and ponder how much more enraged I was than David. David had learned from his parents that you couldn’t afford to be angry about racism or you’d be angry all the time. He made the decision that when he does feel angry about particular injustices he experiences or observes, he prefers to channel that energy into working for change. I have only lived with the personal effects of it since we married. I had thought our society and its institutions were making progress but I have learned on a number of occasions how much work there is yet to do

Another situation in the workplace occurred more recently. About five years ago, David was offered an administrative position in the school district, which he accepted. At the same time, I accepted a visiting professorship at a nearby university. We were both excited about our new work adventures. Within six months, however, particular incidents that occurred with David deeply disturbed me. I considered race a major factor in these incidents. Let me explain.

David, who has always been well liked, in fact so well liked on the job, that some of his colleagues had shared with me they considered it a miracle to be working with him. Others joked and interacted with him easily. One of his bosses who moved to take another position sought him out wanting him to continue to work for him. David is and was likable. But suddenly teachers were complaining, stating they felt uncomfortable approaching him. They would go to the person above David rather than to David and when that person asked why they weren’t going to their immediate supervisor, they shared that sentiment. Unfortunately, David’s supervisor didn’t encourage these teachers to go to David, at least try to talk to him, because they hadn’t done that. They just were uncomfortable.

When I have shared this story with people of color, they immediately nod their head and say "it’s his race." People in the United States are not used to having a supervisor who is nonwhite. This is a new and not even a trend because statistically we don’t have enough people of color in managerial positions to warrant this a trend. But for those individuals who are dark skinned, promotions come with the challenge of having to work twice as hard if not more than that to prove oneself. Another African American friend shared with me that she makes sure she dots every "I" and crosses every "T" because she knows if her performance is not close to perfect, she’d be written up.

There are numerous other incidents like this where whites and blacks are treated differently in the same situations. A short segment of a Prime Time investigation called "True Colors" is shown in many colleges and universities in the States. Two men who are friends, perform exactly the same work as fair housing testers, are taken to Saint Louis as if they are going to move there. The investigators have them go through the motions one goes through when they move. They look for housing, employment, a new car, check out the malls, and explore their new surroundings. Every day for a week, these men, one black and one white, are treated differently. When they go shopping, the sales people wait instantly on the white gentlemen but ignore the black customer. The car sales people, when they finally get around to waiting on the black customer, quote higher prices for identical cars. In the housing market, they try to rent an apartment. When the black gentleman shows up right after the white man, he is told the apartment has already been taken though it has not. The same occurs with jobs. The position has been filled. These are very serious issues that impact the quality of one’s life.

I was effected deeply by the challenges David experienced on the job. In fact the latter incident, when David worked as an administrator and was treated so unfairly bothered me so much that my blood pressure rose. I’m a very healthy person. In fact, I’ve enjoyed a lower blood pressure. I work out several times a week, keep my weight down, don’t smoke, don’t drink. My doctor and I couldn’t figure out what was causing my blood pressure to rise. When David resigned from his position, however, and returned to his position as a counselor, within weeks of living with less stress, my blood pressure decreased.

Medical studies in our country stated that African Americans have higher blood pressure. Diet might play a role for some. Lack of exercise might play a role. Drinking and smoking can play a role. But I can’t help but wonder after my experience how big a role race plays. I have stated jokingly with friends that I experienced second hand racism and it affected my health, just like second hand smoke is said to affect the health of others.

These latter challenges for me have been the most serious, and I’m not sure I faced them as well as I might have. David and I did consult. We prayed. But again I was enraged by these situations and I believe that rage hurt me more than it helped. David has learned to move on from these challenges more quickly, but not without addressing the concerns. He did file a grievance with the school district and once again a lawyer was brought in to investigate. The lawyer determined that unfairness was the problem, not racism, because those interviewed said that they didn’t think race was an issue because there was just as much racism in society as the school. That didn’t sound too logical to me. But nonetheless those were the conclusions made by those in power for now. I think it’s a bit ironic that David has been asked to serve as diversity trainer for the whole school district.

In my professional work, I am able to channel some of my outrage into constructive action. I teach at a small liberal arts college and I teach classes that deal with race and culture. I work with colleagues who are committed to undoing racism. While we may not see the effects of our labor in our lifetime, we have students who semester after semester share that their lives have been transformed by these courses, that they commit to undoing their own racism and becoming actively anti-racist. These students will graduate and enter numerous professions. Some will become nurses, doctors, lawyers, judges, educators, counselors, social workers, journalists, scientists, business people, clergy, and so on. They will become the members of the very institutions that make up our society. Those who are more educated about race relations and have committed to try to become an instrument of change will help change our institutions. It is challenging work. The tendency to do what’s been done before is great. But the great leaders and visionaries in history have all been people who did not blindly repeat the traditions of the past. They were ordinary people who became extraordinary because of their refusal often to go along with the crowd. Not all of my students will be able to resist the pressure to conform, but I trust their commitment and their knowledge will assist them in finding ways to forge some kind of change.

My father said to me shortly after meeting David, "You’re just trying to prove some liberal point by doing this." I responded by stating that the marriage would not last if I was trying to prove a point. I knew marriage was hard work by merely observing those around me and the number of divorces. Though David and I have experienced the regular challenges of marriage and have grown from facing those challenges, the factor of race brings many additional challenges, and many additional bounties. While Barbara and Carlyle, my in-laws paved the way for our marriage to be easier than what they experienced, and it is, I hope that the challenges David and I experience as a direct result of race are paving the way for future cross-cultural marriages to be easier.

For those planning to enter an inter-racial or cross cultural marriage might do well to ask themselves, how will we respond to prejudice and racism as individuals and as a couple? Exploring options, talking to other couples, praying for guidance, reading about those who have paved the way, can help the couple devise a plan and respond with intention rather than emotionally reacting to one situation after another. I wish we had done more of this, but I feel grateful that David has served as such a fabulous role model. His relaxed temperament, his spiritual commitment, and the wisdom achieved from facing and learning from challenges have enabled him to rise to challenges in a superior way.

Some of the constructive ways I have risen to the various challenges of cross cultural marriage are through community activism. I have served on commissions, alliances, and boards that deal with issues of equality and inequality. I have been able to serve while simultaneously meeting wonderful and generous individuals who are striving for some of the same ideals. I have as a professional dealt with the issue of race in the classroom and in my writing. I have strived to raise my children to be prejudice free and to respect their beautiful mixed heritage. I continue to weed my own heart from those unhealthy tendencies I’ve inherited. I also remember for every challenge I experience in my cross-cultural marriage and family life, I experience far more bounties. Focusing on what is great about our lives together outweighs all the challenges and gives me even more impetus to constructively battle the disease of racism when it manifests itself.

I’d like to conclude by sharing one of the most beneficial and exciting ways I encourage myself to forge onward. For me, I have survived various challenges, even thrived from them, due to the multitude of men and women who have role modeled to me courage. Gandhi and Martin Luther King are certainly two men whose lives I have admired for their complete dedication to the cause of nonviolence and peace. Women play a very special role, especially since I am a woman. Ireland’s own Nobel recipients Betty Williams and Mairead Corrigan Maguire stated in their acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize that women play an important role in the campaign for peace. Qualities, such as compassion and intuition, they stated, are far more powerful that calculated reason. It’s not that we should avoid thinking, they stated, but without compassion the tendency to fight over ideas and theories is more likely. Women, who have been excluded for centuries from public affairs concentrating more on matters of the household—giving birth, creating a loving environment—, bring qualities and strengths more natural to them to important discussions in the peace process.

Corrigan Maguire elaborates further in her writings about the role of the individual in the peace process. She writes,

I find great value in her words. Everything is changing and everything is possible. A century ago, if I had lived then, chances are high I wouldn’t have married interracially. Today many communities throughout the world, such as Dublin, reflect the diversity of the world. Today we have opportunities to interact with individuals anywhere on the planet. And the powerful force of love is no longer legislated, no longer confined to skin color or ethnicity. I also appreciate Maguire’s words about taking nonviolence into our hearts and minds and developing new life-giving structures. Each of us in facing our various challenges can respond in life-giving or life-reducing ways. And of course each of us has to figure out what is life-giving and what is life-reducing. In that Prime Time investigation "True Colors," a professor teaching at Berkeley who is African American shared that if people of color often have to ask themselves, am I going to respond to this situation, do I want to take the time, how exhausted will I become, shall I just ignore it, and so on. Setting limits is important. Those of us who are working for justice, who decide to confront racism and such inequalities, need to continue on in the important work of this battle for unity and justice, but we also need to refuel ourselves, to take time out, and more importantly to know when to pause.

Finally, as we proceed to rise to the challenges we still individually and collectively face, may we respond with love and mindfulness. I recently came across a passage by Thich Nhat Han, a wonderful Vietnamese Buddhist whose books have touched the hearts of many around the world. His words are useful to me in managing my emotions, in reaching my goal of intentional responsiveness to injustice. Listen, while I conclude, to these inspiring words.

Aware of the suffering caused by unmindful speech and the inability to

listen to others, I vow to cultivate loving speech and deep listening in

order to bring happiness to others and relieve others of their suffering.

knowing that words can create happiness or suffering, I vow to learn to

speak truthfully, with words that inspire self-confidence, joy, and hope.

I am determined not to spread news that I do not know to be certain and not

to criticize or condemn things of which I am not sure. I will refrain from

uttering words that can cause division or discord, or that can cause the family

or community to break. I will make all efforts to reconcile and resolve all

conflicts, however, small.