Momentary Minority-Ness

time to get it out!

I got that itch again...about to EXHALE!

Makes sense though...I usually get the itch whenever I feel stress.  It's been a pretty hectic season, not overwhelming, but hectic, so I decided to get some thoughts out.

OKAY, so yesterday I had the opportunity to be a part of a black panel discussion at a college campus.  It was a class of all white students with a white teacher wanting to learn about black people and black culture.  Sounds weird?  On just the surface, its a little alarming!  What do they want to ask? Is this a "Show and Tell" for black people? I'd have to say that the teacher seemed genuine enough about it, and I'm always down for a little racial drama to absorb, so a good friend ask me if I'd do it, and I said yes.

Now, as we began our discussing with each other, roundtable style, each white person in the room got to share about the racial experiences they've had in life.  Now, I'm not going to share their responses out of respect to the vulnerability they showed, but I did notice a common trend among them all.  When asked about their racial experiences, they also mentioned a time where THEY felt like a minority.

I found this very intriguing, because they each communicated about a time when they were the only person of their race in a situation and how they felt like a minority.  So, for me this begged the question, "About how many hours out the day do you feel like a minority?" Some answered, "just that time" or something close to that.  Then I asked the 5 black panelist the same question, "About how many hours out of the day do you feel like a minority?" With a chuckle, each said something to the effect of "when isn't there a time?"

This got me going and thinking...I've heard many of my white friends speak about being a minority, having a minority experience, as close to an ethnic/racial experience they can.  Most of them who do say this cite a racial experience, not that they say, "well, one time I was the only left handed person int he room.  I felt lonely and awkward."  I don't hear that.

picture is from www.blackpeopleloveus.com

My response to the groups of people in there was to say, "Actually, what you experience is what I'd call MOMENTARY MINORITY-NESS. It's a brief dip into the realization that your cultural ways of doing things and saying things isn't normalized  Its a moment that happens every so often where you realize you're different, and you see communities of others that are different.  But what is, is just a moment."

What I said to them, and what I'm communicating here right now is that speaking about being a minority can be not only subjective (anyone can find out what makes them unqiue, then in term look at that uniqueness and consider themselves alone/a minority), but for many who's privilege doesn't bring them that point of minority-ness daily, is a small plunge.

That affect of this can sometimes be the undervaluing of someone who truly feels and lives life as a minority.  Of course, I deal with ethnic/racial minority issues in my life mostly, so I can only really speak from that point.  But, I STRUGGLE when I hear white people say they are a minority, and then used that small sample to articulate what they may feel as "true for all people who are minorities."

"I'm not fitting in well" says the peanut butter and chocolate ones...

I wake up: "I'm a minority."  I brush my teeth, "I'm a minority."  I go to a African American literature at the university here, "I'm NOT a minority!" Once I step out the class, "I'm a minority again."  I go to church, "I'm a minority.' Do you understand the stress of thinking about how you will articulate yourself to others so much? EXHAUSTION!

"Well Tony, What do you want us to do" I imagine being asked by my white friends.  I can tell you. 

1. For one, the best way to relate to another minority about their experience isn't to share with them your only experience not being a majority.  The opposite happens and we actually see how privileged you are, not how empathetic you are.
2.  If someone sees your experience and says that not close to what they are experiencing, don't get offended! White culture values folks with expertise, and minorities are EXPERTS on being a minority.
3. Empathy could work this way as well, "That sucks! I'm really sorry that is your life-long experience." or, "Hey, any time you wanna vent, I'll listen and not qualify your words or try to get you to rationalize your experience."

That's a good start.

My Work With InterVarsity: Fall 2013

Hello friends!

I also like to post my ministry updates here.  What I'm doing with my work with InterVarsity.  I hope you enjoy this as well!  Got some thoughts about future posts, so stay tuned!

Tony

373 Words: A Verdict and An Appeal

Tragedy does have to destroy a people...

Most people have already said it enough.  A young life was ended and we are left as a community, a humanity to figure out how in the world we make sense of it. A jury came back and considered the death of a young black man inconsequential relative to a ridiculous law.  I didn’t think I would ache this much about this, but I do. What I’m irked about the most isn’t the verdict given, or the outrage of others.  What is irking me the most is how most of my white friends haven’t even posted a thought about it.  I spent time just looking through Facebook and I just noticed how most of my white friends haven't even mentioned it, but for many of my Black friends, its on the forefront of their mind.  That’s what power is, when you can ignore something that has such a strong effect on such a large community. You can ignore it because it honestly doesn’t affect your day-to-day right?  What does the verdict of Trayvon Martin do to your outlook on the day? The experience of loss and anger and frustration will be long forgotten by the people who are least affected by it. 

Meanwhile, there are those, namely African Americans, who have to carry the burden of realizing that as much progress we can make in this country or the economic strides we can achieve, senseless verdicts such as these will always be made.  It reminds me and many other Black folks that we are all still in the same barrel.  How easy it seemed to demonize Trayvon.  How easy it seemed to humanize Zimmerman.

For all the Black folk I know and love and I don’t know, but still love; we will get though this.  You’re angry, I know.  It doesn’t seem fair, and folk who don’t look like us seem to always get away with crime.  I want to let you know, YOU ARE STRONG.  You come from a mighty and great group of people.  Do not drop your value with violence or anger against white folk, not all of them are like this. Stay focused, we will get through this and our community WILL thrive.  One decision does not change that.

31st Birthday Reflection Part 2: Alive at 31

I was pretty absorbed into the thought of death at 19.  I believed it so much so, that for me, it was a certainty.  How many times can one be jumped on by people and not die?  How many times can there be shooting around you, and you not think you'll get hit by a stray bullet.  I was actually sitting on a porch with my cousin and a guy on a bicycle pulled a gun out and started shooting at the porch!  I figured that something evil was really out to get me and would eventually succeed.  My mom couldn't even trust me with money because I got robbed so much!

So, you would think when I found Jesus that this thought process would heal right?  Not really.  See, I gave my life over to God in a Wendy's outside of the Robert Taylor Homes (more like prison buildings).  I'll have to tell you my salvation story another time, because its kinda wild!  Anyways, when I started following God, my worldview about my death hadn't changed, my view on my destination however did. So, I thought that when I die, I'd go to heaven! It was great for a moment.  Dying didn't seem so bad when I would look at death in this light.  Then, I became intrigued by heaven and how things would end.  So I would read the book of revelation EVERYDAY!  I WAS OBSESSED WITH THE BOOK OF REVELATION!  I just wanted to know how things would end! The drama, the battles, the victory, the finality, it was really satisfying for me.  I would then go around and tell people about this book, "Hey, have you read this book?  It's CRAZY!  Are you a Christian?  Yeah?  Well, guess what, WE WIN!!!"

I laugh thinking about myself at the age, just a little boy, voice cracking, tasting something for the first time really feels like hope.  What was funny, was when I turned 20!  I was a sophomore in college at this time and I as REALLY depressed.  Freshman year I put on the usually 35 - 50 lbs going from 185 to 230 in college!  My sophomore year however, I was so depressed at the idea of dying that I stopped eating much, and I had dropped down to 199 (can't wait to see that weight again!).  I remember sitting in my room with all the lights off wondering when it would happen.  I figured it would most likely happen when I would go home.  "It's been good Jesus," I would say.  "Thank you for the bonus time."  

For some crazy reason, I said yes to a missions trip that summer in Los Angeles.  I thought, "Well if I don't die, then I'll go a missions trip and die a martyr!  The book of revelation had some good stuff to say about martyrs..."  It's so funny thinking back about this time of life for me.  Well, I went back home after that college year, and you know what?  I didin't die?  Crazy!!!

I remember turning 20 on the mission field and I kid you not, I distinctly heard God say to me, "Don't you know that I have more plans for you than you can imagine?"  That hit me at the heart.  I've never thought that God might have plans for me, or that His plans could supersede my fatalism.  I was stunned.  I had been living a sham made out of conjecture and fear.  What would life be like without the fear of death looming always?

Today's my birthday...I'm 31 years old.  It means a lot to me, not that I'm older, or that many people could see me as young, but that I'd lived a great deal of my life an EMOTIONAL TERMINAL ILLNESS, and God healed me.  God proved himself to my life the best way for my circumstances, by proving me wrong about my death.  The demise of Tony Gatewood was greatly exaggerated by yours truly, Tony Gatewood.  

Right now my wife is asleep, my daughter tucked away in her room.  I still rock her in my arms even though she's a bit lanky and older.  I wanna keep doing it until I can't.  She'll live out birthdays prayerfully without the same sickness I once had.  I can feel tears in my eyes, is it my 31st birthday, or 12 years of being proved wrong.  I can't really tell right now...

31st Birthday Reflection Part 1: Dead at 19

Sounds pretty dramatic huh?  Well, to be honest I really thought this about myself.  I remember growing up in the projects of Chicago and constantly dealing with fights and fearing being able to just go outside and plan.  My mom a lot of the time had to push me out of the house just to go and get some exercise.  I remember a time when I was about 13 years old when I was playing for my high school baseball team.  I was wearing my baseball jersey back home from a game and I felt really proud.  I took the green line from Ashland and 69th to 55th and MLK drive.  Some of you from Chicago might know what I'm talking about.  There were only three people in the train caboose (can't remember the right word at the moment lol), A middle aged woman, and older male, and myself.  This was probably around the mid-nineties.  The older male comes over to me, sits down, and says these exact words, "When you get off the train, I'm going to rob you and I'm going to kill you."  You have NO idea how terrified I was!  I was a little kid! This asshole was bigger than me, and I figured out a long time ago that I was a pacifist.  I didn't like fighting or confrontations, I wouldn't fight even if there was a large group around me pushing me to fight.  Anyways, tears are streaming down my eyes as this guy starts to have a NORMAL conversation with me!  Are you serious?  He starts to talk to me about baseball, and growing up, asking me how I'm doing, etc.  It is still to this date one of the most wicked experiences I had, and during a formative time for me. 

There was something different for me during this period of life as well.  I was being witnessed to by Korean Americans with the Gospel of Jesus.  I remember going to a bible study and them teaching about prayer.  "When we pray, God hears our request and is willing to answer us" they would tell us.  What a fine time to apply this right?  So as this guy is talking to me, I'm ignoring him and praying to Jesus, asking him to protect me from this man and save me from this harm that going to happen. 

People don't have cell phones during this period of time, well few people.  Beepers is what it has been all about.  So when the lady, the other person on the train pulls out a phone and begins to say out loud on the phone, "Hello, police, there is a man on this train threatening to kill this young boy," my mouth was stuck on astonishment.  What happened next was freaky.  When she did that, the man looked at me, GROWLED at me, and ran off the train, ONE STOP BEFORE MINE!  Thanks be to God! I ran FULL SPRINT back home and to this day, I've never ridden the green line in Chicago again!

Experiences like that happened to me more often than I've wanted to claim, and though there has been Godly intervention all the time, my world began to change.  I had NO CHANCE to survive this world..  I was prey to everyone, and eventually I was going to get it.  I heard a statistic that said "Young black men who live past 19 years old have a high chance to live longer." I thought to myself, "That's definitely not me..."

I'll finish the last part of this later today, wanted to start out with a  little birthday blogging!  Love to hear your thoughts!

"Progressively Backwards" and Hope

Now, I have to tell you a bit about this place.  Iowa City is what I like to call "Progressively Backwards."  I know that when people call a city or a town "backwards" its usually a response to its lack of education, resources, revenue, etc. We look at lesser resourced communities in small towns and make the "backwards" response.  Yet this is not Iowa City.  Iowa City is one of the most educated cities IN THE WORLD!  You think I'm joking?  Our literacy rate is around 98%.  80% of the city are people who hold a bachelor's degree of higher, and that percentage isn't a small one as well.  Iowa City is a part of a state that has long since been touted for its education system.  Recently, Iowa City was named the THIRD LITERARY CITY OF THE WORLD by UNESCO.  Education, resources and revenue are not our problem.  Our problem is the application of that education.  

PROGRESSIVELY BACKWARDS: A society and a homogeneous group of people who awkwardly practice the misapplication of social education about a particular culture they are trying to empathize and/or sympathize with.

We're educated about poverty, about racism, about socioeconomic status (SES).  We're educated about Women's rights, LGBT rights.  However, our application of our knowledge is really, REALLY far off.  My realm is usually focused around race, poverty, and SES, and I see a community that has used its "blocks" of education,  not for building a bridge, but for building a wall.  We learned that poverty can drive folks to aggressive means of support, so we ignore where the problem is.  We tell others how this is a problem, but "I just don't have the time to do it."  Our pursuit of knowledge has created more fear of others than it has increase the empathy AND sympathy for others.  The more education we've recieved, the more we've come to fear others.  Why is this? Because we settle for only looking at people through a snapshot.  Books don't animate, and even animated books only give you one point of view.  Classrooms can only go so far towards educating others.  You also have to come into the experience and let your heart break, and be transformed.  Let yourself become unsettled and cry out, "I CANNOT SIT AND DO NOTHING...not anymore."

 I recently met with a very successful and wealthy individual who after our conversation challenged me by saying (in so many words) that I am the type of leader that can lift up the whole African American community, even the city...  I can tell you, I did not expect this when I planned on meeting him.  Since that time, I've had sort of a mini twilight zone moment.  Feeling like I was in a place, but yet not.  I've had the highest and lowest ranges of emotions.  Somebody just challenged me to be the world changer I'm destined to be, for my city, IOWA CITY!   

My vision for something so grand and on this is level is not just talking about planting a church, or just a non-profit organization, those are in it, but it's not all of it.  Has God placed in me the seeds and the call to planting a whole community, a movement that can transform the very structures of my society or the world?  

What if I said I had the ability to begin in the next 10 years to:

1. Unite all of the black clergy of Iowa City for the mission of serving our people
2. Develop a financial literacy program to serve the community
3. Build relationships between the local banks and local black businesspeople
4. Create a collaborative network for existing organizations who reach out to the Afr. Am. community.
5. Develop and culture exchanging experience between our community and other communities of the African Diaspora, both stateside and overseas.
6. Help African Americans parents have a stronger presence in our public schools.

And that would be the start of it? I'm literary trying to believe something about myself that bigger than anything I've ever done, or have tried to do.  Not on this scale.  I'm looking at the education of my city and saying to it, "its time to take your education and transform it into wisdom..."

I think this is where I'm at.  I'm a African American man, with all of the crazy experiences I have had in my life, living in the projects of Chicago, being witnessed to by Korean Americans, going to a Korean American church, going to college in Iowa City, IA.  Living for a period of life in Atlanta.  Being married in a bi-racial marriage with a bi-racial child.  Ministering to college students for the past 8, going on 9 years. My heart aches, and my lungs burn for the transformation and change that could hold ramifications at the level of transforming a city. But am I the right person.  What limits me from thinking that I can do this, actual limitations, or just the limitations I've set upon myself? Wow...

Education without the applicable experience to harness is still another form of ignorance in my opinion.  If all our city wants is to be educated about others, about Blacks, without the necessary step that moves knowledge towards wisdom, we will continue to move progressive backwards, where our technology will be further ahead, but our ability to love our fellow brother and sister will remain rudimentary.

Exhaling Narratives...

There's not a lot of pictures of Black men breathing on the Web as calm as this!

It's good to exhale...You breathe in, hold your breath, then breathe out.  You whole body responds to the fact that what you've taken in, finally comes out.  Our bodies are not made to keep things in.  What comes in, goes through our system, then eventually comes out.  We are told that breathing is something we can't really control, but in some ways we can.  We can control the length of time we hold our breath to a limit, then we have no choice but to let it out...

As a Black man in Iowa City, who has lived here on and off since 2000,  I've had to inhale many experiences, with no exhaling.  Somebody follows me in a Walgreens when I'm wearing dickies and a dark blue sweat shirt, making sure that I don't steal anything; I breathe in and hold it.  With my sociological mind, I decide to change my clothes the next day and dress up in "Iowa Wear;" khakis and a t-shirt supporting some random gas station, pat my Afro down and go to the same place to notice 2 things, 1.) I don't get followed in the same store and 2.) None of my black friends talk to me...I breathe in and hold it.

Every compliment for being articulate, I breathe in and hold it.  Every time I'm assumed to be another Black person, I breathe in and hold it.  Every time I'm asked to be a Black Encyclopedia, I breathe in and hold it.  Eventually, I have to exhale.  I have to let it out, unless I'm want to become emotionally and culturally asphyxiated, then I'm no good to anyone. Believe me, I'm getting blue in the face.

"HELP ME! Be my Heimlich's!"

You understand right?  We all have to breathe sometimes, no matter what the consequences are.  Maybe people won't respect us anymore, maybe there are those around us who will begin to fear us.  My question is, if I was really struggling to breathe physically, who in my community would just watch it? Most likely, someone would perform the Heimlich maneuver on me.  This is no different. In fact, I'm grateful for your responses and willingness to read and be willing to allow me to exhale narratives. You're my Heimlich's!

That's what this whole experience is for me on this blog.  If you had the question, "What inspired you to start blogging?"  It's because I need to exhale, to breathe.  I feel like God has given me a deeper call to stay in the fray here in Iowa City.  I love my city, but I've felt the stretch and damage of being in a place that's not the most open...they might believe themselves to be forward thinking and evolved, but I like to call my city "Progressively Backwards."  Hmm...I'll write a blog about this...interested in hearing about it?

I'm also noticing from folk I know who have read this blog that my story of being a Black Man in a White World can be applied to others as well.  I welcome you to imagine, but I would caution you about putting yourself in my shoes, that may prove itself to be difficult and counter to the purpose of this...experience.  Look at things and she how they apply to you, but what I'd want to do first is fully absorb the narratives.  Let your empathy grow, ask clarifying questions to yourself and even to me!  After you feel like have understood the current narrative you're reading as much as you can, then began applying it.  Breathing is a lifelong process, slow your breath, focus on your breathing, allow yourself to hear the heartbeats then breathe out.

P.S. I don't know how often I will continue to post up.  Right now, I'm doing it as I feel the urge, and I have a lot of urges right now.  I'm exhaling and loving it.  Potentially, I might blog like weekly, or I might feel the need to not do it anymore (I don't expect this).  Let me know what you think.  Are you interested in posts that come:

A. Weekly, or
B. As The Urge Comes?

Reply back and let me know.
Breathing...

Hello! Are you a Friend, Donor, Or Potentially Prejudiced?

Just when I'm enjoying my food...

 So this past Saturday morning, my wife, daughter and I ventured to Hy-Vee (a local supermarket) to enjoy breakfast together.  I have to say, I LOVE HY-VEE breakfast.  Lots of food for little price (they didn't even pay me to say that)! As we were enjoying our little family time, a elderly white man came up to me and look at me with a stunned and awed expression.  He said, "Did I coach you when you were in High School?"

Seems innocent enough right?  Simple question, simple answer.  However as he started to explain himself, I've observed the evidence he used to connect me to his memory.  He said that my "build" was the same as that guy...interesting.  I also noticed that he didn't have any other neutral descriptors to describe my uncanny similarity to this guy.  He thought my age to be around the mid-20's (I guess that's a compliment).  He finds out that I am NOT the guy he thought I was.  My wife then invites him to sit with us, and he declines.  He says, "my wife is over there and we'll be leaving soon."  Funny, he was still there when WE left...

My wife and I reflected on this a bit, she says, "Well, maybe that could've been a donor for the ministry?"  She's right you know.  This could have been a great moment where a random guy who thinks I'm some other black guy could begin to care about ministry to college students. I 100% raise all the money I use for  ministry and for my family to live off of.   This is the way I think about things ALL THE TIME!  The problem is, IT'S EXHAUSTING!

TELL THE TRUTH SISTA!

I'm always looking at people (mainly the majority white culture) where I live and I ask myself, "Are you a friend? Could you have a heart to support ministry to college students? Are you potentially harboring negative attitudes towards blacks, or all of the above?" How can I be asked to figure this out all the time?  I wouldn't be surprised if friends of mine were to say, "Tony, just treat everybody like they're not prejudice.  Be positive!"  What they or you might not know, is that I did this before.  When I was a freshman coming to the University of Iowa, I knew instantly that I was going to be one of the few who look like me and came from a similar socioeconomic background.  I didn't want to be seen as "the angry black guy." I wanted to assume the best about everyone around me. So I came to the university saying, "Don't worry everyone, I'm just Tony, don't worry about race stuff with me!"

"WE HERE TOO!  It's O-V-E-R!"

I lived in temporary housing with nine other guys and with this posture I was able to befriend most of those guys.  Seemed like a pretty sweet circumstance, right?  Not even close.  The days after I made this declaration, things started to change for the worse.  I remember playing a hockey video game and it was 2 on 2.  I was partnered with a guy who happened to be Jewish and the other folks were from some suburb in Illinois.  I remember them declaring the game, "Minorities vs Majorities." What did you just say?  Never mind.  As my Jewish friend and I began to win in this game, the other guys got upset.  Normally this was the case whenever pre-adults play games, but this one had racial tones to it.  "How could they win?  I bet neither of them had ever played hockey in real life. We know hockey better than them."  The "them" was very striking to our ears...

It all came to a head when an African American female friend of mine came to visit me.  She was the only other person from my community who came to Iowa.  She says hello to everyone in my room, everyone responds, but this one guy, "Abe."  She goes, "excuse me, HELLO!"  "Abe" goes, "yeah, hi."  It seemed uneventful, and my friend can be sassy, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.  Once she left, right in front me, he goes, "B#TCH!"  That was it for me.  I grabbed him and threw him across the table and said to him, "If you ever call my friend that again, I'll punch you in the f#ckin' face!"  

In retaliation, "Abe" says, "Well, THE ONLY REASON YOU'RE IN COLLEGE IS BECAUSE YOU'RE BLACK!"

"Wait! What?"  

And Yet opinions still HURT, D@mn...

What does THAT have to do with our argument?  How could he know that a statement like this could even hurt me? Is this what happens for other white folks when they're enraged enough?  In that instance, it clicked for me.  I didn't free my circumstances of racial issues, I personally exasperated the environment by giving others the authority to define me.  "Race doesn't bother me" I said, "Just treat me as Tony" I communicated.  In reality they're response was, "It doesn't bother you huh?  Cool, let me say the most prejudice things I can imagine."  They had so much freedom to say whatever that even this guy involuntarily blurted it out in the middle of a heated exchange.  

After this exchange, my roommates began to make my life a living hell.  When they stuffed all of my belongings and college textbooks into a garbage can and put it in front of my bed, I knew then I was building this whole thing the wrong way... The person who understands me the best outside of Jesus is ME!  M-E! I set the standard of how I want to be treated, not those around me. I've allowed this situation happen to me time and time again.  You probably know I'm talking about!  I've allowed others to define because I don't want to be offensive or critical or misunderstanding, but isn't it FREAKIN HUMAN to misunderstand, to sometimes be critical or even offensive?  

I wasn't making a humane step towards racial reconciliation, I was devaluing my own humanity. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, ethnicity, personality, body and all!  I LIKE ME! We each deserve to be fearfully and wonderfully appreciated for who we are,  and not have to mute our ethnic, cultural, and socioeconomic identity.  We are the spice to our world, and I was choosing to water my flavor down...

So, the elderly man goes back to his table, and I'm wondering to myself, "How eugenic was that of him!"  In that short 5 minute exchange and 10 minutes of reflection with my wife, I was tired and I took a nap when I got home.

Where the HELL are all the black people?

Do you see where the black people are located? How many? I count seven...

I have not lived on the South Side of Chicago since I was 18 years old.  Up until then, I've only truly known the black experience and what it meant to be black living in a poor neighborhood.  It was, "We all had nothing don't complain about it." I respected that line of thought and look out my windows to see the Chicago Skyline and wonder to myself, "What is it like to live there?" "What are the people like when they're not from around here?" 

Now that I live on the other side, I usually start out with a  "Oh Lord!" and a "Help Me Jesus!" Then I'd ask, "what in the world was I thinking?" Don't get me wrong! I love where I live right now, In Iowa City, IA.  There's a lot of friends and relationships I've been able to build since being in this city.  However, there are days where I'm just sitting in church, or sitting at a coffee shop, or just people watching, and I say to myself, "WHERE IN THE HELL ARE ALL THE BLACK PEOPLE!" 

Cultural Isolation can feel like prison!

I've gotten down on myself. I got depressed. I would isolate myself from people and family.  I'd look like I was in prison with no hope for parole!  Sometimes it really feels like prison.  But you see, I'm a man of faith, a man who is trying to follow God while in a foreign land, and sometimes you get homesick.  A LOT OF THE TIME you get homesick!  But where is home?  Is Iowa City home for me now? How do I accept this?  Will I be rejected by others because I don't fit in either place anymore? 

So, I thought to myself and said, "self?" and myself said, "huh?" "What if we allowed ourself to not despair or cut ourselves away from people and just took time to get it all out?"  I said to self, "What a great idea!"  So that's what I'm doing, I've created this blog, "Black Man/White World" to be a place for me to share my expressions, observations, frustrations, pain, and joys about the life I'm leading in a seemingly foreign place.  I'm blogging to you to allow you to see if only but a glimpse of what life is like for me from the inside.  

Maybe it will lead you to greater empathy...maybe you'll feel confirmed in your assumptions..maybe you'll feel challenged...either way, I'm not that worried about you (no offense), you're strong and you can make it.  This is me communicating me, you can take it or leave it, shout at me, reply back, high-five me, just know that when you communicate, know that you're only getting a small picture, never the whole slice, you're limited, and most people can learn and understand more when they accept those limitations.

I'll be blunt, I may share a few "words" about things.  I may not always communicate the clearest, I may say, "h#ll" or "sh!t" or "d@mn" a few times here or there.  I may also surprise you by my ability to articulate deep feelings and emotions, or you may get bored and not read it again.  

High Cheek Bones!

Here's my response to that (Tony smiles).  

Notice how high my cheek bones get when I think about trying to please you and only you...  Its my response in saying, "Good for you! I'm going to keep moving, and you are too."  So here's to a journey we might 

both be taking together, may God guide us, help us to laugh at ourselves, help us to grieve the hard things, helps us to be challenged appropriately, and help us to remember and grow and endure! 

May we both survive it!