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| Photo: Ileana Johnson 2019 |
As I started down my list, each name brought back memories of sometime from the distant or not so distant past, reflecting on the fun times and sharing similar battle scars of life. I vividly remember specific conversations that changed my life or impacted me in a positive way, and also impacting lives for the better. Most who meet me know that I try to be a kind, loving person to everyone until you give me reason not to be.
When I was growing up in Mississippi, I had a hard time finding where I belonged. Despite being white, my sister and I had major identity problems because we were raised by two Romanian women, my mother and grandmother, whose values and culture did not align with Mississippi’s cultural expectations. My mom was always so proud to be an American citizen, and wanted to adapt, having left such a horrible and miserable life in Romania, and as the years went by, she became more and more Americanized, shedding some old world habits, but never forgetting her beginnings.
It was almost like living a double life; at home everything was Romanian, and at school or work I was just an American. I have always been extremely proud to be half Romanian, a badge I wear proudly, but the southern culture didn’t see it the same way. I think my sister understood this and decided that she wanted to be just a MS southerner with no ties to any other place, and I desperately wanted people to see that I was a proud half Romanian young woman.
Struggles come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. The cruelty and “isms” of the world are endless. The world handed me a dose of reality at a very young age and I didn’t like how it tasted. The name calling, the shaming, the ostracizing, etc. Watching my mother, despite being Caucasian, being treated with utter irreverence at her job, not invited to events because she’s an “immigrant,” not allowed into social organizations for the same reason, the stares in public when we would start speaking in our language because my grandmother couldn’t speak English, the way people would look at us as if we were aliens, the way we dressed, the food we ate, the list could go on. In the midst of all of these things, I never wavered in wanting to be different. I always marched to the beat of my own drum and eventually, after many years, grew a thick skin. These horrible experiences molded me into who I became as a young adult.
I made it my life’s mission to defend the bullied, to treat everyone I met with kindness, to stand beside friends who are being mistreated, to be the example and hope that others would follow suit. To this day, when I see bullies, I see red and immediately launch into “mama bear” mode. To look at people and situations objectively, never making a quick assumption without all the facts.
Why am I sharing this with you today? I do so to show my solidarity with you. Yes, you that haven’t taken the time to read this, the mistreated, the sad, the angry; I understand what it’s like, I don’t agree with it, but I won’t jump on political bandwagons. Changing my profile picture doesn’t do a thing to change people’s hearts, but leading by example my entire life is the way I have emboldened change. It’s the way that I can truly make a difference in everyone’s lives. I live this solidarity every day, not just for a fleeting moment on FB. My silence doesn’t speak volumes, my actions do. Trust actions and not momentary grand gestures of the disingenuous. Take a look at your friends list and walk down memory lane. It may change your heart and mind today, you may gain a different perspective on things, or it may renew a neglected friendship.
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