August 12, 2010

Before coming to Africa I rarely thought much about the color of my skin. If I did, it was to an extent of thoughts such as follows: “Crap, there’s another freckle”; “I really need to work on my tan this summer”; or most recently, “I should really start wearing sunscreen regularly – I’ve got to keep this skin for a long time”. I hardly ever thought about my skin in the context of race. I think that this says something of how I was raised. I was taught to decide a person’s character based on how they treat others, who they are on the inside, is what is important not what is on the outside.
Living in Africa these past 15 months has taught me to be grateful of living in the United States of America, where a person will be judged on who they are not by the color of their skin. I realize that it wasn’t always like this. Our nation was formed by men who wanted equal rights for everyone and over the years “everyone” has evolved to include people of any color and women through the struggles, trials and triumphs of many people. Our country has seen a lot of racial issues from slavery to internment camps for Japanese Americans during World War II. We are still dealing with it to this day in the form of immigration issues for Mexicans all the way to people from the Middle East. Since the end of slavery, integration in the school system and so on we have come far but the process is not yet finished. I know that to keep our nation strong we must continue to be an accepting people and that we should always remember our country was formed because those who came before us wanted to practice religious freedom. Everyone that came to the United States to help settle was once foreign, it is what makes our nation such a unique one, we are the proverbially ‘melting pot’.
In Africa my skin tells everything there is to know about me, at least that is what Cameroonian’s seem to think. Because I have white skin I am automatically smart, well educated and wealthy. What they don’t realize is that I am an average American (at least that is how I see myself). I went to a state supported college that I struggled to graduate from because of my lack of direction. I do realize that I am extremely lucky, even in comparison to other American’s but I am no more special than the person next to me. One of my goals since coming to Cameroon is trying to educate Cameroonians that American’s are all different. In America we have a very diverse population, we range in education levels from high school diplomas to PhDs; in religious beliefs from being Atheists to Muslims to Christians to Jews; our family trees show that some are first generation, some are Daughters of the American Revolution and some are descendants of slaves from the Ivory Coast; people are free to choose who they want to love and it does not matter their skin color, sex or where they came from.
It is hard being a white face amongst many blacks but to me it seems that it is even harder to be an African American volunteer in Cameroon and I am very proud to know those who are serving with me. They struggle with this ten times more than I do but by them being here it helps sensitize other’s to understanding that American’s come in every color, shape and size. What was that bible school song we sang as children?
“Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white they are precious in his sight; Jesus loves the little children of the world.”