Being "the other"

Have you ever felt every pair of eyes linger on you for a few too many seconds? Have you ever known people were talking about you in hushed voices as you walked by? Have you ever known that no matter what you do people are going to overcharge you, make you feel stupid, and give you bad information? Have you ever had to swallow all the independence you’ve built over the years and admit that you can’t do simple things by yourself? Have you ever known, with 100% certainty that you don’t belong?

Sure, I’ve had people mutter under their breath or watch me a second too long. But never every person I passed. I’ve never had strangers warn me of my safety just a block from my house. I’ve never felt so dependent on others. It’s an invaluable lesson, even if I’d rather not be in the midst of it.

Being a woman in the US has its setbacks: balancing proving myself as a competent young woman while not letting the fact that I’m female cloud relationships with older professionals. I will always be starting slightly behind my male counterparts, suffering from ingrained and often unconscious cultural biases, let alone competing against males from business schools, law schools etc. American society simply values that much more than a woman with an M.Ed. But I have the fortune of being white, having a strong education and a diversity of experience with a passion for succeeding in everything I do. I can at least get in the door, even if I have to work harder than others to be taken as a seriously.

I’m spending my last week in Guatemala by myself, including a few days here in the City and Las Conchas. While I’ve walked around alone before, this is the first time that I know I won’t get a reprieve by having my personal Mexican bodyguard around later. I’m not afraid that something is going to happen to me, but I can’t shake the nerves as hard as I try (because let’s face it, that’s a very realistic fear). And I’m glad I’m here this way. I’ve never felt so conspicuous but I’m glad I’m learning what it feels like to be foreign; to be different; to be the minority; to work through constant discomfort. Now I have some small idea what immigrants and minorities must feel every day. But I can never really know because I’m a white American. Whether I’ve earned it or not and despite lacking language and cultural skills, I will almost always be taken seriously. Whether they want to or not, people will usually listen to me, meet with me, entertain me at the minimum. What must it be like for someone in the United States, for a Guatemalan in the US, who doesn’t draw that inherent respect?


But there have been plenty of people to help ease the discomfort. Even today, during my hour+ spent in a taxi my driver asked to be facebook friends. How sweet... 

Take that extra step to help someone different, someone that is obviously an outsider, feel seen, heard and equal. It doesn’t take much and can mean a great deal – hold a door, make casual conversation, look someone in the eye, ask about their children. If you can do more, wonderful, but these small acts of human decency should be routine anyway. Yet sometimes they are let slide with people that are different because it makes us uncomfortable. If you as the majority feel uncomfortable imagine what the other person feels – make the gesture, it only takes a minute. Step out of your bubble.