Diversity and Culture

When I first stepped foot on the Stout campus, I had a grand idea of organizing a cultural festival. One that would celebrate people from all cultures, from all across the globe. One that would highlight many cultures with music, dance, and art. In the first semester of my undergraduate career, I convened a cultural festival task force and gave many presentations of this idea to the dean of students, provost, and many faculty and staff members who were involved with all things "diversity" on the campus. While the idea of having a cultural festival was well-received and many people expressed support for the planning of the festival, there were many hurdles to overcome. How would we host such a festival and, more importantly, how do we answer those who are questioning the importance of having a cultural festival; WHY do we want one? DO we need one?

As the days and months progressed, the hurdles piled; we needed funding, we needed endorsement, we needed a bigger task force, we needed to have a clearer vision, we needed dedicated members across campus to be involved, we needed ... etc, etc. Months turned into semesters, semesters turned into years. And although the planning strategies were adjusted every year, when my senior year rolled around it seemed as if we were still at square one. At the time, I thought the students needed this; the students needed this.

In a largely homogenous campus, where teaching diversity included tactics such as convening multicultural students into panels and having those students talk about their experiences as being a student of color on a white campus, the students needed this.

In a largely homogenous campus, where Hmong students received random messages from white students (because their names "seemed Hmong") asking about their personal experiences as refugees, the students needed this.

In an overwhelmingly homogeneously white campus where I have been told that the only two Asian ethnicities are Chinese and Japanese -- I thought that the students really needed this.

However, when I reflect back to my thoughts and assumptions surrounding the cultural festival initiative I can now understand why such a festival was never accomplished.

If we wanted to make a long-lasting impression on the campus and community members about the importance of creating, nurturing, and fostering an environment of diversity, this was not the best way to do so. If we wanted to spread messages of acceptance, inclusivity, and tolerance, this was definitely not the most effective way.

At one point, it was expressed to me that the students may not want this. In retrospect, I don't think the student body would have seen to the full depth and scope of the cultural festival, if it had seen fruition.

Last year, I was at a symposium about the teaching of diversity and inclusivity. One of the speakers said something that deeply resonated with me, particularly in regard to my experiences with the planning of the cultural festival. I believe that a cultural festival would have functioned as an "uncritical and superficial recognition of differences where diversity becomes little more than makeup ... [and] token programs." In the last few years, these questions have occupied most of my "free time" - why couldn't we bring the festival to fruition? What are some of the underlying, unobservable, and unexamined possibilities that we should have considered?

What we should have considered, is that "diversity" is a multifaceted, at times "fluid," concept that encompasses a plethora of ideas "other" than what is unquestioningly accepted as the norm in this society. Diversity is about  more than showing students the dances of different ethnic groups. It's about inspiring a consciousness that involves more than what meets the eye: "this is representative of (insert culture) dancing, yes. But this does not define that culture and is not all there is to the culture" etc.

What we should have considered, is that "culture" (what was used simultaneously and interchangeably by some students on the campus as colloquialism for "something only ethnic minorities have") is so commonly misunderstood and imperceptibly complex that to capture it in a short-lived festival would have been the equivalent of placing a band-aid over the persisting problems related to diversity and culture.

In the last decade of my life, I have struggled to define and redefine diversity and culture. I read a research article about the Self and Culture (Markus and Kitayama, 2010) where they wrote about culture in a way that resulted in my immediate "YES!" Although this was written in the context of cultural psychological research, I think it captured key concepts of what I now see as "culture". They wrote:

"Culture is not a stable set of beliefs or values that reside inside people. Instead, culture is located in the world, in patterns of ideas, practices, institutions, products, and artifacts [...] with this definition, the emphasis in the study of culture [...] is not on studying culture as collections of people – the Japanese, the Americans, the Whites, the Latinos – but is instead on how psychological processes may be implicitly and explicitly shaped by the worlds, contexts, or sociocultural systems that people inhabit.”

I've always believed that education was the key to everything. If you teach people about cultures and diversity, they will know. And hopefully curiosity, acceptance, and respect ensues. But through my journey, I've come to really understand and appreciate the lessons of experience; those of which cannot be taught through formal education but only through living, listening, and reflecting. The cultural festival would have allowed us an easy way to put ethnic cultures on display for many students. But I think that would have distracted the very same students from diving deeper into a culture and seeing its' diversity.

Not too long ago, I was asked once again "what is Hmong?", followed by "what is Hmong culture like?" As a self-declared expert of my people and history, I was about to embark on my ready-made spiel when I stopped to think - wait, what ideas am I perpetuating by repeating the words of my well-researched and well-rehearsed response? I can say that the Hmong are a minority group, indigenous to China. But is that true? So much of our history is lost in the folds of time. I can say that Hmong culture is about community and clan membership, is embedded in our paj ntaub, is carried in the notes of our queej - but is that all? (Besides, how many people will know or understand paj ntaub and queej?) What about the culture we have created today? That has to count. And so in that moment, I answered "The Hmong are an ethnic minority group living here in the United States of America. Our culture, like yours, is ever-changing and always growing."

There are many things about my undergraduate years that I miss deeply: Monday HSSO executive board meetings, Tuesday SSA meetings, the many potlucks I attended, those late nights doing homework with friends, making random trips to ERP, dancing with Yeej Zoo, and laughing with all my amazing friends and colleagues. So looking back, it's okay that the cultural festival did not happen - because many other wonderful things happened during those times. Perhaps this is another great lesson of diversity; I put so much energy into a cultural festival at that time, that I forgot to count all the diverse activities around me.

Since the time of the cultural festival planning to now, my greatest truth lies in that I must be comfortable with the amorphous concepts of "diversity" and "culture" as well as their numerous manifestations. I used to be so disappointed in myself for not being able to find a way to make the cultural festival happen. However, when I look back, I think we did the best that we could. The great beauty of it all was that many dedicated individuals joined in on the journey toward a cultural festival; that at one point, we all joined hands to support an idea. Isn't this usually how movements start? :)

Maybe now, all the brave supporters of the cultural festival initiative are living and enjoying the cultural festivals of their respective lives, and realizing how much diversity and culture we have around us. Maybe the goal of the cultural festival has been achieved, after all.

Anybody can be great because everybody can serve

I had just landed in Chicago O'Hare International Airport. I was exhausted, frustrated, and mostly just very tired after a long day of switching flights. It was not too long after I landed that I found my flight was postponed, further delaying my trip home. (Great.) So I did what I was supposed to do in the case of a cancelled or postponed flight - I waited in line at the customer service counter. The line was long. A thunderstorm was expected that night so my flight was not the only one postponed. In line ahead of me were two young military men (they were in army attire). While I was going over what I should do that night if I couldn't leave Chicago (sleep in the airport? oh goodness no..), I heard one of the men ahead of me say "Madison." That was when they got my attention. So I listened in some more. Turns out, they both were as frustrated as I was and needed to get to Madison like me! I felt less alone (although I didn't reveal to them that I listened in on their conversation).

Because there were two of them together, one of them ran to the next customer service counter to see if they could get a quicker answer on flights. The line we were waiting in was very long. Five minutes later, the guy returned and told his friend that no flights would be leaving Chicago O'Hare that night (*groan), but that a bus would be leaving shortly (9:30pm) and that they should get a ticket if they wanted to leave. It was then that I butted into their conversation to be sure of what I had just overheard. They confirmed that a bus was leaving for Madison, and it would be leaving at 9:30. The time we had this conversation was a little after 9. The two men quickly ran off to find the bus counter. I, on the other hand, decided that maybe I would just wait until the next morning.

However, a few minutes later, it occurred to me that I needed to get home ASAP because the next day would be very busy and that my family would need my help. In that split second, I relinquished my spot in line (only 6 people away from reaching the customer service rep - finally!), and ran after the guys.

Not more than 20 feet later, I bumped into them running in my direction. I stopped them asking - "Madison, right?" One of them responded "yea." I asked where we needed to go, and they pointed behind me. Then, they took off running. It was now nearing 9:10. I ran after them with my black carry-on, and my purse. They bolted down the stairs, in between the escalators. I hopped on the escalator with my carry-on realizing that I was holding them up. I might have said "wait." Or I probably didn't. I don't remember. The next thing I do remember was them realizing that I was not keeping up. So one of them came back, grabbed my carry-on, and beckoned me to follow. We took off running down the aisle.

I remember thinking how odd that must have looked. There, in the middle of bustling Chicago O'Hare, in the midst of angry customers whose flights were just cancelled: two tall (5'8-6'0), fit army men with a short (5'1), slim but not necessarily fit, young woman sprinting - yes, sprinting - down the aisle as if our lives depended on it.

About 5 minutes later, the one holding my carry-on gave it to the other. I felt bad; not only did they wait for me but they also carried my bag. (How would I ever show my thanks?)

When we exited the airport, we did not know which direction to go for the bus ticket counter. I thought this is my chance to help the two men who had helped me. I can be useful! So I took the initiative to ask around and eventually led us to the bus counter. I felt I had finally done something in turn. We bought our bus tickets, I sincerely thanked them for helping me, and we all boarded the bus together.

While boarding the bus, I thanked them again. And maybe even again? I wanted them to know I appreciated their help so much. I then sat down and began to relax. I was on my way home.

We made a few stops before we reached Madison. One of them was in a little town in northern Illinois. During the stop, I saw the bus driver get out, along with the two men who helped me at the airport. For some reason, I registered that as a rest stop; it was not uncommon for coach buses to make rest stops, right? I really needed to use the restroom so I got out too.

I was in the restroom for no more than 5 minutes, came out, and saw a coach bus outside thinking that it was the one I had just gotten off of. Boy, was I wrong. Not a moment after I had that thought, I saw one of the men running into the station and telling me that we needed to go. I learned that our bus had left without me and had only stopped because the men had noticed that I was not on yet. That was when one of them came back to get me.

I was speechless and touched, because of their genuine concern in looking out for me, and grossly embarrassed at my own carelessness.

I got on the bus, and profusely thanked them.

When we reached Madison, I invited one of them to go with me to a local bar so that I could learn more about him and express my thanks. (The other had plans already but I thanked him again before he left.) After learning that he was a college student, who had recently turned 21, I showed my thanks by buying him a nice glass of cold beer. (I hope he enjoyed it and found it refreshing.) I then said we should keep in touch before I left. Then left, only to realize that I was too nervous, with my mind swimming in embarrassment, to remember to give him my contact information.

To this day, I still think of them both often. If they had not looked out for me, if they had not reached out to help me, then I would have been stuck in that little town in northern Illinois with no money and no phone. I don't know what I would have done if that had happened. Thankfully, it didn't.

Now whenever I travel, I look out for myself, and then I look out for others. I am a more conscientious traveler because of this encounter. I am more aware in case a situation ever arises where I could pass on their act of kindness.

Wherever you two are, I just want to thank you both. From the very depth of my heart, thank you.

So that you can pass it on

Many years ago, when I was part of a girls group, we had a 'girls night out' at a hotel. The next morning when we were ready to leave, we found out that our van would not start. The engine needed to be jump-started.

A stranger noticed that we were having trouble so he came over and asked if we needed help. When we told him what had happened, he drove his car over and proceeded to help us jump-start our van. We thanked him and our group leader asked if there was anything we could do for him in return. He said that he would like us to remember how he helped us and help others in need, in the future.

"We don't have to engage in grand, heroic actions to participate in the process of change. Small acts, when multiplied by millions of people, can transform the world."

- Howard Zinn

Lost and found

The door bell rang while I was in the kitchen so one of my roommates ran to get the door. Minutes later, she called me to the door as well. When I got there, a man with a dog asked me if any of us had lost an ID. I replied that we hadn't but if he would show me the ID, I could try and see if I knew the person.

So the man pulled out the ID, and it turned out to be mine. I was so shocked; I seriously thought my ID was still in my backpack. I told the man that the ID belonged to me and how thankful I was that he had found it! I asked him where he found my ID.

He explained that he found it while walking his dog. He recognized it as a student ID so he picked it up. He said I had dropped my ID on the drive way leading up to my apartment. Since the complex I lived in was primarily leased to students, he had gone door to door asking if anyone had lost an ID.