Carte Blanche

  

The following was originally posted on December 5, 2014 on Kristina's blog.

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to have Kristina back as a guest blogger this week. Kristina Leonardi is the founder of The Women’s Mosaic. She is a coach and speaker in the areas of career development, work/life wellness and personal growth.  

You can follow her @clearlykristina and like her Personal Growth Gab (PGG) page on Facebook to get more thought-provoking, inspirational and motivational tidbits like this!

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When traveling by myself in Cape Town, South Africa in 2001, just seven years after the end of apartheid, I had a major aha moment while having tea in the lobby of the historic, old-world luxury Mount Nelson Hotel.

Feeling somewhat awkward in my solo budget travel state, I was in the midst of sipping Earl Grey when something clicked within me on the most profound of levels. It occurred to me that due to the mere fact my skin was white - with the bonus of having blonde hair at the time - I was essentially given free rein to go wherever I desired and do whatever I wanted, and no one would ever question me, look at me strangely, or think I didn't belong. 

 

Yes, I was in one of the most segregated countries on the planet, but it really struck me that this applied in a broader context - no matter where I go, simply because of the color of my skin, along with being tall and dressing reasonably well, in addition to being educated and American, I enjoy a certain level of trust, respect (well, this was just before 9/11) and service, and almost always inadvertently avoid outright discrimination and bodily harm, even as a woman (which itself is topic for another discussion, since that is only a very recent phenomena and may apply to less places, but I digress...).

 

Suddenly the phrase "carte blanche," which literally translates as "white card," came into my head and I immediately made the connection to the District Six Museum's display of various ID cards for citizens under that classified system:  White, Coloured, Black, and Indian.  In the United States, and in a global sense, it is an invisible card I carry that gives me entree, ease and yes, a certain unearned privilege, to live a life free of so many stresses, layers of misperceptions, institutionalized prejudice, fear, bias and/or hatred the majority of those of darker shades must endure, and are too often endangered by.

 

I realize in telling you this story I may sound naive, but you have to know this came at a time to someone who from childhood in theory, and more than ten years prior to that moment in practice, was not only quite aware of, but particularly passionate about, the issue of racial inequality and had many interpersonal experiences, observations and relationships informing a significant understanding of the complexities all that entails - earlier that year I had even started a non-profit organization to dispel stereotypes and bigotry in order to bring women together to "Recognize Our Unity" and "Celebrate Our Diversity". 

But being in a place where racism had so recently been explicitly acknowledged and addressed in such a direct manner brought this concept home to me in a way that up until that point in my life, because I am White, had only been subtly perceptible, and even then, only because I was sensitive to the issue.


A couple of years later while waiting in the cold for an MTA bus on First Avenue in the East Village I got to experience this overtness in reverse. Two Black women chose to ditch the delayed public transportation, and I watched in disbelief as two, three, five, six open taxis passed by as they tried to hail them; disgusted, I asked if they needed help, and of course the next cab stopped for me but when the driver realized the Black women, not me, were getting in, he drove away.  Finally I asked where they were going; I was so appalled I decided I would just get in and share it with them. Of course the irony was that they were only going to 78th between First and Second, probably one of the whitest blocks in the city...It was perhaps the closest I will come to know what it must feel like to deal with race on a daily basis, simply trying to accomplish the most mundane of tasks.


Fast forward to February 2012. After my talk at the NY Science, Industry and Business Library a young Black man came up to thank me for what I had shared, how it made him think differently about his life, and pointed out to me what he had written down so he could make positive change going forward. He then said he had recently been released from federal prison, would I be willing to work with people like him?  Well, this began a journey in which I learned more specifically about the consequences of race and the criminal justice system, the roots of mass incarceration and the many barriers to re-entry. It has since widened and deepened my understanding of the unhealed wounds, scars and repercussions of our country's history of slavery.


What we are dealing with in the aftermath of injustice after injustice against people of color are symptoms of a very sick system that is made up of people, and people are crying out for transformation and healing. It is not a Black problem; it is not a White problem. It is a human problem. No matter what card-carrying member of our race you proclaim (or are deemed) to be, we're all in this man-made mess together - and we will only solve it one story, one interaction, one aha moment at a time.  

  

About The Violence Against Women In India

Since I first learned of the 2012 case of the brutal Delhi gang rape, which gained international attention, I was disturbed to learn of the rise in reports of similar crimes perpetrated towards Indians and foreigners. It was the attack on a Danish tourist near a popular shopping area in India's capital city last month that really made my blood run cold. Through my own research, I learned of other horrific cases of rape in India that are almost too overwhelming to comprehend. Some of them include a case of a Polish woman raped with her young daughter present in a taxi cab by the driver; a couple ambushed by a group of men while bicycling in Central India; and a nightmarish account of a woman who was raped by order her village council as punishment for who she chose to love. I have read and been told by Indian family members and friends that the increase in reports of rape are a result of more people coming forward to the authorities and the media; fear of reprisals from the perpetrators and being ostracized by their communities continue to be serious deterrents to justice.

As the daughter of first generation Americans who came from India, I have had mixed feelings about the country. As a child, all I knew about India from my two visits there were that I had many Indian relatives, the climate was very hot and rainy, vegetation was lush, and I was a mosquito magnet.  It was only during my last two visits to India as an adult that I learned to appreciate its many cultures, languages, customs, climates and landscapes. Like America, India is more diverse and complex than most people can comprehend, including myself.  Now, however, I am wondering if I will return to my parents' birth country any time soon.

It's not just fear that something horrible will happen to me or someone I know; it's the corruption and misogynistic attitudes that make progress in the prevention of these attacks and the aftermaths faced by victims slower than it should be. There are many wonderful, outspoken Indian women and men in the country facing this issue head-on, and now with more people reporting these attacks, the need for true reform in all levels of society is more vital than ever. As an outsider with some insider knowledge, I see how influential the Indian movie and TV industries could be in transforming some of the sexist, backward attitudes that have contributed to the extreme violence towards women in the country. Strategies like public service announcements that reach out to men and women of all ages would be great, as well as more positive stories of rape victims becoming survivors could make enormous positive impacts.

There are so many other things that need to happen, such as dealing with how families raise their sons and daughters; encouraging all people to report cases of abuse to the authorities; and revising academic, governmental, and medical institutions' policies on how to help survivors and their families. Unfortunately, I have heard too many stories of people who are further victimized by their communities after going public, and for me, that is unacceptable.

True, systematic change will not happen overnight, but I hope to see some significant reforms in my lifetime. After all, India transformed from a British colony into a democracy with a flourishing economy in a matter of decades. I know (as do so many others) that changes in India's cultural, social, and legal policies regarding all forms of abuse must happen, so the nation's progress into a brighter future will become a reality.

Feeling the Legacy of Nelson Mandela

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to have Kristina back as a guest blogger this week. Kristina Leonardi is the founder of The Women’s Mosaic. She is a career/life coach, speaker, seminar leader and expert in the areas of career development, work/life wellness and personal growth.

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One of the most significant trips and greatest adventures of my life was when as a result of a TWM Visioning Workshop,  I travelled to South Africa by myself as a delegate from The Women's Mosaic to attend the UN Conference on Racism in Durban, August 2001

 

I first went to Cape Town where I took the public ferry (with Chris Tucker who also happened to be on it - random) out to Robben Island where I was deeply moved learning about Mandela's time there as a prisoner, and understood even more profoundly what an amazing human being he is.  

 

 

But the true testament I believe to his legacy was that just about wherever I went, (which was still very early in the new South Africa) and whoever I interacted with - no matter what their race - was incredibly warm, open and I felt carried within them the spark of light that Mandela so wisely and compassionately lit in his nation's people to work towards reconciliation, tolerance and ultimately, unity. 

 

It is a very special country because of the presence and work of two of humanity's greatest leaders, first a young Mohandas K. Gandhi, and then a wise and evolved Nelson Mandela.

 

All Roads: Same Place

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to have Kristina back as a guest blogger this week. Kristina Leonardi is the founder of The Women’s Mosaic. She is a career/life coach, speaker, seminar leader and expert in the areas of career development, work/life wellness and personal growth.

The following was originally posted on September 25, 2013 on Kristina's blog.

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September is always an exciting time of year for me as world leaders convene on the island of Manhattan for the United Nations General Assembly and the Clinton Global Initiative.

Many of you know my degree is in International Relations. Early on I was a passionate student of languages and cultures, got bit by the travel bug at age 12 after a trip to Spain, Portugal and Morocco with my grandmother; by senior year in high school I was studying Spanish, French and Italian (foregoing chemistry and physics..), Mandarin Chinese freshman year in college, organized international student orientations, studied abroad my third year…you get the picture.

My dream was to one day work for the UN, as my intention and mission in life was to contribute to world peace (I simply didn’t understand why people and countries couldn’t get along just because of race, religion or anything else), so that was a seemingly logical goal. Who grows up wanting to be a career/life coach? Like so many professions today, that didn’t even exist when I was a kid! Ah, but the Universe has a funny way of working things out.

Once I discovered that being employed by the UN did not ultimately fit my skill set or desired environment, I set out to create my own international experiences - teaching middle and high school Spanish, working and traveling with an upscale educational tour operator, teaching Tourism Destinations & Cultures for NYU, and founding my own mini-version of the UN called The Women’s Mosaic, bringing together women from different cultures and backgrounds to learn from and be inspired by one another.

As a result of that creation, I got hooked into the UN, met several times and received praise from Kofi Annan, have attended many of their conferences (I still get verklempt when I am in the auditorium wearing an earpiece…), and before any of this, without consciously trying, ended up living in the very neighborhood where the UN’s headquarters is situated – so for my entire adult life I have been surrounded by diplomats and their missions, sharing my coffee shop, gym and grocery store with them 24/7.

Fast forward to more recently, as my interest and passion for personal growth, empowerment and healing along with my ability to relate to just about anyone, combined with x-ray vision, supersonic hearing, and broad knowledge base of industries, careers and other resources have combined to make me into this very interesting and profoundly effective person I will call a career/life coach for lack of a better title….and I have been helping people professionally in this capacity for over six years.

Last week I had a big ah-ha moment after a Skype session with a new client in Hungary who had attended one of my talks while here on holiday. Although that was only my second international call, I realized just how diverse and, yes, global my clientele is! I have worked with well over a hundred people from all backgrounds – whether foreign nationals here visiting or working temporarily, or folks that were not born here but came as children or adults to live. They hail from Macedonia, Italy, Puerto Rico, Mexico, New Zealand, Dominican Republic, China, Taiwan, Nigeria, Canada, Australia, El Salvador, Russia, Japan, Philippines, and Israel as well as embody the many diverse ethnicities and religions found here; African-American, Haitian, Indian, Persian, Muslim, Jewish, Buddhist, Quaker, and so much more; many of my clients have accents, as English is their second or third language! So DUH, here I am using my degree in ‘International Relations’ yet once again, simply in another form. Pretty cool, huh?

I share all of this not just to illustrate how the thread of my interests and passions have run through everything I do, but also for this: My work with individuals only confirms my theories, thoughts and ideals about countries and humanity as a whole. The more I learn and observe intimately the intricacies of all these seemingly different folks’ journeys and backgrounds, the more I see the hard evidence of how we are all wired as humans with the same desires, dreams, hopes and challenges – no matter what corner of the globe you are from we have far more in common than you can imagine.

Think you’re so special? You are. You have a uniqueness that you bring to this planet. But you are also made of the same stuff as that guy or gal is sitting next to you on the subway, or across the ocean. And because of things like technology and climate change, we are more interconnected than ever. So this week take a moment to expand your horizons - who can you learn about, chat with or help in some way that is out of your normal sphere of influence? How can you Imagine your world for the better? What can you do to think globally but act locally?

Not sure what is the micro in your life that will affect the macro? Give me a buzz and we’ll translate the language of your soul to see how it will weave into the tapestry of history and become that much needed piece of the peace puzzle we are all a part of, no matter who you are or where you come from.

FINAL WEEK: Be sure to take advantage of my special Back to School September discount offer!

Remember Your Roots

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to welcome back Giovanna as a guest blogger:

Giovanna lives in New York City. Through her work experiences and
most recently through her studies, she has developed a passion for the
dynamic of work; the psychology behind it.


At a book reading for one of my favorite new novels, an audience member confessed that she had a tough time reading the book. She criticized the author’s constant use of “Spanglish” and cultural anecdotes, indicating that they made her reading experience unpleasant as she constantly had to look things up in order to understand the story. To which I felt a sudden urge to scream: “So what! I have been doing that my entire life!!”. As an avid reader from a young age, you could often find me with a book in one hand and a dictionary in the other. English is not my first language; thus I was not always familiar with the prose used by some of my favorite authors, from the old English of “The Scarlet Letter” to the colloquial speech of Holden in “Catcher in the Rye”. This particular author however, a Dominican immigrant like myself, allowed me to finally see my own voice on paper. While reading his works, I often find myself nodding in agreement, "yes… I get this." That is because his story, his characters’ stories, although individual, are my story as well.

So I wondered: does the author know that he is doing this? Does anyone with a public voice, for that matter, realize what they are doing? Do they know that they speak for a culture? A people? A generation? Are they O.K. with that? Then more intently, would I be O.K. with that? As a young professional attempting to make a voice for herself, to be successful, would I be able to carry the trials and tribulations of MY own people, a group so misunderstood, everywhere I go? A culture of people so proud yet often self-deprecating? And I am ashamed to admit that I also wondered, would it be too much of a cross to bear?

You see we all have an agenda, an individual mission if you will. Yet there is often a struggle between perfecting that personal brand and not leaving certain aspects of yourself behind. Aspects that you may not love, but are an integral part of who you are. Whether it be the influence of your family, a thick accent that is heard before even your words are, or uncertainty between adopting the collective focus many of our cultures are based on, versus the individualistic approach that we have come to favor - how do you find a happy medium?

As I pondered this, I remembered that I was still at the book reading. I listened to the author talk and thought about all the other public figures I admire, all whom share that same innate awareness of self, a communal “This is who I am, take it or leave it” kind of attitude, and I realized that all you need to do is believe. Believe in yourself. Believe in your art. Do it with character. Do it the way that feels right to you. Put every inch of you in it: your culture, your identity, where you come from, because that is who you are and you cannot hide who you are. I, for one, have no desire to.

Memories Of A Muslim Country

The violence which first erupted last week in response to a contentious anti-Muslim film brings up memories of Indonesia for me. I never saw chaos on the streets of Jakarta or elsewhere in the country, nor did I experience any anti-Western sentiment from those I worked with and lived near to, but I do remember how deeply devout some of my Muslim Indonesian friends and acquaintances were and still are, and how they never made me feel out of place because I was not a Muslim. At shopping malls and all other public places, there are rooms for washing before and after prayers, usually near the restrooms, and rooms for prayer. The daily call for prayer never made me feel uncomfortable; instead I always felt peaceful. I lived in a Muslim country and was not treated like an infidel; I made friends with Muslims and Christians alike, and both groups easily mixed with each other.

When I first heard about the riot outside of the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta, Indonesia, I must admit that it made my blood run cold for a moment; when I heard there was no violence or bloodshed (to date, I have not heard of any) I felt better. I visited this location several times, and always found it a calm place each time I was there, even when I was stressed out about my visa or some other matter. I knew of some anti-Western sentiment, but it never touched me directly. Of course, being of Indian descent may have helped me considerably, because in countries like Indonesia, being white equals being Western most of the time. It is only when I open my mouth to speak that my American accent reveals who I really am, which sometimes confused the Indonesian people I met and even my family members from India. Unlike the latter, the former never tried to make me feel uneasy about my unusual accent and Western identity.

I hate stereotypes of all kinds, and I am just happy to have the experiences of living outside of them, in this country and abroad. I would like to hear more moderate and measured voices between the extremist ones from the West and the East. Is that too much to ask for? Perhaps for now, it is.

CHICKS ROCK! wants your feedback. Click here to take a survey now and let us know what you think!

Considering The Help

I went to see The Help this weekend, dragging my feet all the way. It's a film about a Southern white journalist in 1963 who bravely interviews black housekeepers in an effort to tell the truth about racism in Jackson, Mississippi. I felt resistant because I've followed some controversial articles critiquing the movie for being yet another pop-culture celebration of the (always fictional) white heroes of the civil rights movement.

To be honest, there's very little I can say about the movie that would redeem it from that particular criticism, but there were things I found enjoyable about it anyway. I was glad I chose to support it with my money, for these reasons:

1. It's a phenomenally strong female-driven cast. Men are a subplot in this film, and even then, only barely. As we know from the shocking-but-typical minimization of women in film, that's nothing short of miraculous for a Hollywood blockbuster.

2. Within the ensemble, there's an armload of black actresses who know how to bring it, each of whom got a chance to shine. Far from being minimized, their role in the film was stronger and treated with more respect than I expected.

3. Our spunky heroine enjoys having a man, but doesn't need one. (The movie doesn't need him either, frankly, but perhaps you can't fight Hollywood on too many fronts and still expect to be a blockbuster.)

Overall, I still didn't love the movie, but for unexpected reasons. Here's my problem: If you're going to make a film centered in the world of white housewives, be real about it. I think the film missed a major opportunity to show a more nuanced picture of the civil rights era from a white perspective. The evil housewives are one-dimensional caricatures; they don't seem like real women with struggles and motives and flaws. I would have enjoyed the movie more if it had taken me to the uncomfortable place of sympathizing with them, in all their racist ways, instead of merely mocking their small-mindedness. It's admittedly fun to mock them, but the few real glimpses of their perspective skewed melodramatic, and I felt let down by the way the film turned some very insidious issues toward comedy. Like what it really would have meant for a black woman to defy a white woman in some of the ways the characters do. It didn't feel like a movie set in the 1960s, it felt like a movie made today about the 1960s, and as such it may please the crowd but it fails to tell the truth.

That said, this movie's going to be a blockbuster, and with cause. There's some great stuff in it, and it's definitely worth a look.

So.....go see it, and tell me what you think.

Musings About The Freedom Riders

Fifty years ago this month, black and white activists risked their lives by taking interstate buses and sitting where they wanted in them; they boarded them in Washington D.C. and went into the racially segregated South. The Freedom Riders were taught not to use violence to defend themselves before the trip began, and as a result made a significant impact on the early days of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States. When I realized that it had been fifty years since the Freedom Rides, I made sure to watch television programs and read anything I could about them. I am impressed and humbled by the bravery and endurance of the civil rights activists who were beaten and almost killed by mobs in Birmingham, Anniston, and Montgomery Alabama. I also wonder about myself; if I was of age in 1961, would I have been inspired to become a Freedom Rider? Would I have had the fortitude to face the vengeance of the angry Ku Klux Klan (KKK) and other racists? Hearing the stories of the Freedom Riders, who recently commemorated their 50th anniversary with some college students by taking buses and re-tracing the same routes, reminds me of the human capacity of true greatness.

I would like to think I would join the cause, if I lived during this time, even though I would have been very frightened. The evils of racial segregation are intolerable to me, so I think this would have been a strong enough reason to overcome my fears. At the same time, I may have been dissuaded by my Mother’s feelings about my safety. Facing angry mobs of people and violence at their hands would change me forever, but perhaps this would be a good thing in the long run, especially in the years after the Civil Rights Movement. The bottom line is that I will never know what it was like for the Freedom Riders, but I can remember their struggles and triumphs.

Do you ever wonder what you would have done had you lived during the Freedom Rides, or other events like them?

V

CHICKS ROCK! is happy to have Kristina back as a guest blogger this week.

Kristina Leonardi is the founder of The Women’s Mosaic. She is a career/life path consultant, speaker, seminar leader and expert in the areas of women, diversity and personal growth.

On May 5, 2011, Kristina attended the 7th annual Voices event hosted by Brotherhood/Sister Sol, a leading non-profit that empowers young Black and Latino women and men by helping them to become critical thinkers and community leaders.

"...I will continue to use my voice, the one I was told is important and matters." -- Rosario Dawson, actress and activist

I'm not a huge fan of American Idol, but have watched it here and there, and the theme I noticed this season has to do with contestants 'finding their voice' and being artists who are true to themselves. Now there's a new kid on the block called The Voice, and the X-Factor coming around the corner as well.

Although on one hand we are attracted to the idea of being plucked from obscurity and thrust into the spotlight, I think our more subconscious obsession with these shows stems from how powerful that little box in our throat really is, because not enough of us use it to its fullest potential.

I have a client who feels she is not heard by her boyfriend, another who is trying to find his voice at his job, another who gets stuck when trying to articulate anything about herself. Shania Twain, who made a living and a fortune living by her voice, lost it after the devastating news of her husband's betrayal and coming to terms with a traumatic childhood. There is nothing more effective to show us just how essential our voice is to who we are than when it is not there.

I recently had the privilege of meeting one of the most distinctive and profound voices in our society today, Dr. Cornel West, who was being honored, along with Rosario Dawson and the former Mayor David Dinkins at the very aptly named Voices 7, the annual gala for The Brotherhood/Sister Sol, an organization that empowers low income Black and Latino youth to become agents of social change through education, activism and spoken word.

A frequent guest on mainstream TV talk shows, Dr. West always has an intelligent and entertaining discourse with his host and speaks my kinda language about love, courage and shared humanity; he is an extremely unique voice of reason in a sea of media madness.

At the end of the event, the students' poem said you "Can't sing when your guard is up and your mouth is closed... The consequences of silence are intolerable." No matter who you are, without your voice and your Voice, you are lost.

The logo and ads for The Voice show two fingers up in a V; I realized it's no small coincidence that this is also the sign of Peace and Victory, as they are all intertwined; because when you find your Voice and use it, you feel at Peace with yourself and can be Victorious in overcoming any obstacle - and that is Vital.

Welcome Diversity To The Neighborhood

Earlier this month, a new Indian restaurant opened just minutes from where I live. There never was anything like it in our neighborhood before, and its arrival is a pleasant surprise to me. Having an Indian restaurant nearby means more than just the food of course; it means more diversity and choices in our area, and that is a very good thing. The owner of the establishment told us that an Indian grocery store will be opening next door, which lifted my spirits. I don’t always have to drive more than a half hour to other parts of New Jersey or take the bus into New York City to get a good mango lassi or buy amla oil. Soon, both will be available in my neighborhood, and it is both reassuring and convenient on so many levels.

Sure, we have President Obama and the Civil Rights’ Movement is decades old, but I never forget that there are elements of racism and ignorance all around me. Once, my family was the only one of color on our side of town; there was another Indian family who lived on the other side. Now, there are numerous Indian families living on every block. I also see more orthodox Muslims moving into the area, and they go about their lives wearing their traditional dress without being bothered by anyone. Large communities of Hasidic Jews, Hispanics, and African Americans all live in a nearby town, and it makes me feel good being around everyone in the local park. I know that perfection doesn’t exist, and there are simmering resentments felt by people that I don’t know about, but I believe that those generations who went before us and wanted what we have now would be glad to know how far we have come.

So while most people think of the Indian restaurant as another place to eat, I see it as a good omen. Is it a stretch to think so? Maybe, but I think the future looks brighter with its arrival in the neighborhood.

Old School

I caught a bunch of articles over the weekend (here's one) about the controversy at Nettleton Middle School, in Mississippi--a public school where some Jim Crow-era segregation rules still remain on the books and active. Specifically, the school has issued written guidelines outlining which student government positions students of different races can run for. President: Whites only. Secretary/Reporter: Blacks only. (Oh, you're of mixed race? Sorry. Try again in high school...)

To be fair, I should say these rules remained active, up until this past week, when the national media caught on to the story. School officials say the rule was kept in place to ensure diverse representation on the student council. Okaaaaay.... But to set up a hierarchy where white students are always on top runs counter to the very ideas of integration and inclusion. It baffles me that any group of educators in this day and age--the day and age of our first black president, after all--would think that any form of segregation is a good way to promote diversity.

It also saddens me that I'm not surprised to learn of these situations. I know there are still schools where there's a black prom and a white one. I know that drama teachers in the south may be told not to cast interracial couples in student plays for fear of community reprisal. I know that in the nighttime corners of such places the Klan still rallies, spewing hate from underneath their hoods.

I want to give the school district the benefit of the doubt, but to do so makes me wonder about all the mistakes we make in trying to overcome prejudice. How many more will we uncover as time goes on? On the other hand, I'm suspicious of a group that--practically overnight--reverses a policy decision they claim to have believed in, just because a lot of people suddenly took notice. Did they really not know what they were doing?

What else can we do, collectively, to bring these situations to public attention, so that they can be corrected?

Making Sense of Violence

I am bewildered and saddened when I hear news reports about horrific acts of violence, particularly when the perpetrators know their victims. I always wonder what possesses someone to attack and even kill another human being, no matter how angry he or she might be. When I heard about the latest workplace shooting that killed nine and wounded two people in Connecticut, I thought about my life. Sure, I have known quite a few people that were cruel and mean to me, but none of them made so angry that I wanted to physically hurt them, or end their lives. I just never want to see them again, and this world is big enough so that can happen.

Journalists are already reporting about the possible motives behind the crime, which include racial bias, harassment, and being fired, with the latter being the catalyst for the tragic murder/suicide. There are obviously many more reasons that are far too complex for the media to cover, but it is obvious that the man felt so desperate to make his point that he used violence towards himself and the people he worked with. Was it the prospect of being unemployed in this economy, the rage of being harassed because of race, the fragility of his self-esteem as a human being, or all of the above that caused him to snap? Most of us can agree that the severity of violence was not justified. Even if some or all of the people who were killed and injured by the gunman were/are racist jerks, they did not deserve what they got. My seventh grade teacher was one the most disagreeable bigots I have ever met in my life, but ending her life in a blaze of gunfire? No way!

We cannot operate under the assumption that something like this will never happen to us or anyone we know. I believe that being more civil to one another, following our instincts, and taking action when needed are all important preventative measures, especially in schools and work environments.

What are your thoughts on the matter?

Learning from Little Rock

I recently completed some in-depth research about the Little Rock Nine, the small group of black students who first integrated Central High School in Little Rock, Arkansas, in 1957. Their first days of school made national headlines when the governor sent in the National Guard to block them from getting to class. It took weeks to resolve the situation in the federal courts, and even then, the President of the United States had to send in military support so that the community would stop their violent protests and allow the black teens to walk the halls of the white high school. It’s an amazing story.

I’m pretty much in awe of these nine folks, who were just young teenagers at the time, but who have grown into strong and amazing civil rights advocates. The backlash they faced every day in 1957-58 was extraordinary, and yet they faced it with courage. I can’t even imagine having to deal with the kind of overt attacks they faced—being spit on and beaten up and scalded and threatened with bombs. Actually, I feel lucky that I can’t imagine it, and that I never had to live it.

Black history month is over, and maybe this post would have been more appropriate a few weeks ago, but in my own life, thinking about such events is not specific to one month of the year. I spend a lot of time delving into history, both for my work and because it interests me. I often consider what it would have been like to live in another place and time, not because I want to go back, but because I want to understand what went on, and how we got to where we are today.

The Little Rock Nine’s story is both heartbreaking and inspiring. It makes me grateful that I don’t live in other times, and grateful for those who sacrificed so that I wouldn’t. The world isn’t perfect today. Some would say it’s not even a better place, overall. But in certain ways, big and small, there has been progress, and it’s nice to celebrate that from time to time.

Colorblind Love

I am not a big fan of Hollywood films today; I’m usually the last one to know what the top box-office hits are in the movie theaters at any given time. Still, when I saw the trailer for The Blind Side, which opens this Friday, I was truly moved. The film is based on the life of Michael Oher, a young African American man who rose from homelessness and abuse with the support of a well-to-do family, and how their love, encouragement, and his determination led him to the NFL. It is one of the movies I will see in a theater, and I’m hoping it will be worth the money.

When I read some online reactions to the trailer and Oher’s story, I was floored. The fact is that he was taken in and adopted by a white family, and this really angers many people. I just don’t get the racial negativity; with all my heart, I believe that love can be colorblind, especially when it comes to parents and children. I hope to adopt in the future, and no one is going to stop me from adopting a child because of race.

Even though attitudes about race and adoption have changed, there are those who still believe that adopted children are loved less than biological ones. Many people are also dubious when discussing how celebrities like Angelina Jolie and Madonna have popularized international adoptions, which I can understand to a certain extent. There are many American children in the foster care system who need homes, but they have familial and emotional baggage (depending on their ages and circumstances) that many can't (or won't) handle. Those who do adopt want an infant or small child; older children are usually overlooked. With these prevailing attitudes, it’s hard for many to comprehend how Oher’s adoptive family could have considered including an older African American teenager in their lives, especially one with a troubled family history. I am not one of those people.

What are your thoughts on interracial adoption?

Where Are You From?

Living in the U.S., particularly New York, it's very common to hear the question "where are you from?" This, of course, can mean anything: What state or city do you live in? Where did you grow up? What country were you or your parents born in? It's up to us to decipher which one they might mean and hope the answer satisfies them, but in my experience they usually mean, what is your cultural background?

A lot of people don't bother to ask me "where are you from?," they assume they already know. Even though I'm very open with people about my cultural background, I've found that whenever somebody doesn't know me, they can't seem to figure out where I'm from. This makes for some interesting scenarios, like the time I went to a deli and the man behind the counter started speaking to me in Urdu. When I stared blankly at him and simply asked how much my items came to, he was shocked -- "You are not from Pakistan?!" I smiled politely and said no, but he insisted "You look like you're from Pakistan!"

Things like this seem to happen to me all the time, just with different languages and different countries. Off the top of my head, I can recount being identified as being from: Pakistan, Mexico, India, Ecuador, Puerto Rico, Bangladesh, etc.

I know people who get upset when their ethnicity is incorrectly assumed. They're suddenly filled with a cultural pride and insist that, no, they are most certainly NOT from whatever country you think they're from. I react rather differently, and instead of expressing anger or discomfort, I simply laugh it off and think about how arbitrary it all is. We attach such value to physical characteristics and personality traits that a Dominican with brown skin, dark eyes, dark hair, and a quiet demeanor can be mistaken as being from half a dozen different countries.

I think from now on when people ask "where are you from?" I'll just smile and tell them to guess. Let's see what they come up with!

Bigotry Today

Blatant prejudice is something I have limited experience with. The worst situation I ever found myself in was in a London pub as a college student. I knew from the moment I walked through the doors of the establishment that something was not right; it wasn’t the typical friendly neighborhood pub I was used to. Surrounded by angry white men, my hair was grabbed and someone hissed in my ear, “go back to the temple, you sand n---er!” I was paralyzed with shock when my friends pulled me away from my nemesis’ grasp and we ran out of the pub unscathed. They were all appalled at what happened, and I was bewildered but calm. I assured everyone that I was fine and explained how contradictory my perpetrator was. After all, “go back to the temple” attacks Hindus, and “sand n---er” refers to someone of Middle Eastern descent, but I am neither Hindu nor Middle Eastern. He saw my brown skin and Indian features and unleashed his hate, with the help of alcohol. I will never forget how blatant he was with his emotions.

Lately, I find that bigots today are much more subtle when expressing their hatred of people they don’t like the look or sound of. One of the bus drivers on my regular bus expresses her racial dislike by not responding to me or anyone who looks like me when they say “thank you” or “good night.” I was on the bus with my mother and brother recently when we noticed how she responded to a Caucasian passenger when he exited the bus, but not to us. My mother was incensed, but I brushed it off. As long as she doesn’t say or do anything derogatory that I witness, I won’t report her. When I think about it, the bigoted bus driver is being careful when expressing her racist feelings.

Racism is expressed in various ways by people of all races, religions, and cultures. What are thoughts on bigotry today?

Writing Everybody Else

A few months ago, I put up a post called Writing Black, in which I discussed a conflict I feel within myself, as an author: the desire to write books with black characters so there will be more of those out in the world vs. the desire to write any book I feel inspired to write, regardless of the main character's race. I have yet to resolve it in my mind.

Recently I've been participating in an online "round table" with a group of diverse female authors who write books for teens, called "What a Girl Wants." We're talking about a lot of things, but we're trying to get at the heart of what young girls want and need to hear from us, as their older sisters (in a community sense). We all take this role very seriously, even though our profession is pretty much fun most of the time.

Last week, we started talking about multicultural characters in books for teens. The discussion kind of blew me away, because there were so many sides all coming together. We all want to speak to a younger version of ourselves... by reaching the teen girls running around high schools today through our books. Does that mean we should each only write characters who are like us?

When I wrote the Writing Black post way back when, one thing didn't occur to me: if I write books starring non-black characters, how might those stories be received by non-black audiences? I worry about shirking a responsibility to represent on behalf of my own race, but should I also worry about overstepping my bounds and tromping on someone else's?

Some of the ladies in the round table say yes--the only authentic portrayal of any culture or race can come from within. Others say no--anyone can write about any culture, as long as they make a serious effort to get it right.

What do you think? Whose responsibility is it to tell certain stories?

Thoughts About Obama's Muslim Speech

Like many others, I was looking forward to President Obama’s speech to Muslims last week. It is safe to say that the words were long overdue, at least according to the global community. When I finally heard the speech, I was surprised at how some of his personal experiences with Islam mirrored my own.

After the tragedies of September 11, 2001, I remember the mistrust and hatred towards Muslims and Sikhs that came forth, so much so that I was warned to be careful because of my Pakistani-sounding last name and dark skin. I would not allow myself to worry about it; I am the daughter of Roman Catholic parents from South India, and they descended from generations of Christians that date back several centuries. I knew that I had nothing to prove to anyone, especially those who are ignorant. I even told people who were concerned for me (and for themselves) that it was absolutely wrong to condemn all Muslims for the horrific acts committed by extremists. It was great to hear these similar sentiments expressed by President Barack Hussein Obama in his landmark speech given in Cairo, Egypt.

While I have heard criticisms from people who have their own strong opinions about the relationship between Islam and the West, I related to the personal experiences the President infused in his speech, especially when he mentioned his time in Indonesia, the most populous Muslim country in the world. I, too, heard “the call of the azaan” everyday. I also wore a jilbab when visiting my friend at a Muslim school in Jakarta during Lebaran, with no complaints. The friends I made were Christian and Muslim, and they respected me as much as I respected them, regardless of our different religious affiliations. While family and friends in America worried about me living in a predominantly Muslim country, I assured them that the only things I feared were Indonesia’s lackluster health care system, and its capital city’s terrible traffic and pollution.

What are your thoughts on President Obama’s speech to Muslims?

Inupiaq Voices

I watched a documentary recently that rather blew my mind: Nipaa Ilitqusipta - The Voices of Our Spirit, produced and directed by Rachel Naninaaq Edwardson. The film screened in NYC and features the Inupiaq community in Barrow, Alaska. It studies the history that led to the decline of their language. Personal interviews illuminate the struggle to reclaim a language whose loss began a few decades ago when Native American children were pulled from their homes and forced to attend assimilationist boarding schools. In that environment, they were denied their traditions and made to feel shame about their culture. Consequently, those indoctrinated couldn’t bring themselves to teach their language to their own children.

It’s a uniquely Inupiaq narrative, yet, by chasing the story of one specific culture in one small corner of the world, the film touches on universal themes of home, family, self, and the search for identity. I sat, slightly weeping throughout the film because it hit pretty close to home.

I admire the film’s ability to touch emotions in someone who has no knowledge or experience of the Inupiaq culture. I was utterly caught up in the narratives, and I felt that the film was somehow telling my story, or at least part of it. The part that wishes I spoke my father's language, or my maternal grandmother's. The part that wants to travel to far reaches of the world and feel that I belong.

I'm finding I'm not alone in this feeling. It doesn't seem to matter what culture we have in our backgrounds - young Americans of many flavors are searching. Wandering. Hungry. Something has happened. Something has kept us from learning these truths. Something has happened, and we are being robbed. I wonder if we spend our entire lives hunting for puzzle pieces – a collection of words, thoughts, feelings, experiences that’ll tell us who we are and what it all means. I watch a film like this and I realize that, no matter how far I’ve come, I’m still searching. There’s a history that I carry, which I feel, but that’s ultimately unknown to me.

Where else should I be looking?

Remembering Legendary Latinas

In celebration of Women's History Month, I wrote a series of posts on my personal blog about the lives of Latinas who have been inspiring and influential to me. I entitled the series Legendary Latinas and wanted to highlight their lives, accomplishments, and what they mean to me personally.

I chose the women to profile a couple of weeks before March began, found some online sources to use, and began rough drafts of each in the hopes that most of my work would be done before the month even started. But I completely underestimated the amount of work the series would be. The posts were hard work! It took a lot of time to research, fact-check and write the posts, and finding links to facts I knew from off-line sources took even longer. Because the women I profiled are so important to me, I also put a lot of my own reflections on what they each mean to me, which added a level of emotional investment I did not anticipate when I came up with the idea.

So, let's just say that while working on the series, I figuratively kicked myself a number of times for ever announcing it in the first place.

Now that a few weeks have passed since I completed my last post, I'm really glad I wrote it. Despite the long nights and hours of work, the series gave me a chance to explore the lives of women I've admired for a long time. It pushed me to become connected to Latina history and Latina issues in a way I've never been pushed to do in the past. On top of the women I actively sought information about, I started to find out about Latinas I had never heard of before or only had limited exposure to.

I've also gotten a lot of positive feedback, and requests to expand the profiles I currently have or write new ones. I still haven't decided whether or not I'll continue the series in some form or another, but I'm definitely happy with the work I did and having accomplished my goal of giving more exposure to these legendary Latinas.