* * *
Coming into Mission Year I anticipated that I would learn a lot about culture from the community surrounding me. I was moving into a neighborhood in Southwest Philadelphia where the majority population was African American as well as a large African population (from many countries). The neighborhoods I had lived in before in Akron and Bowling Green had been overwhelmingly populated by European Americans—these
were the people I built relationships with. One reason I chose to sign up for
Mission Year was a desire to build cross-cultural relationships to learn more
about how we as people can perceive the world differently depending on where we
come from.
I anticipated that this would happen by living in Southwest Philadelphia. What I didn’t anticipate is that this cross-cultural learning would also happen by living with my team in my house community.
If you would have asked me what I thought about Hawai’i before this year, I may have mentioned that it’s a vacation place to escape and unwind, a tropical paradise of sorts where all your problems melt away. I may have mentioned that I thought Hawai’i was the epitome of paradise (the pictures I had seen were beautiful), and the ultimate vacation get-away.
I may have told you about the many themed “Hawaiian Days” we had every year at school where people dressed up in grass skirts and tropical shirts and wore plastic leis from Party Place and a coconut bra (that’s only if you were really getting crazy with the theme, of course.) I may have also told you about the Hawaiian-themed birthday parties I saw or went to. There would be relaxing island-themed music, more leis, tiki torches, grass skirts, hibiscus flowers, pineapple and ham, the limbo, swimming, flip-flops, more pineapple—Hawaiian themed party.
That’s what I knew of Hawai’i coming into this year. I knew a caricature of a place based on grade school theme weeks, birthday parties, and escapism vacation advertising. In my mind people didn’t actually live on Hawai’i; it was just a paradise-land that people visited—a paradise land where all your problems went away.
Growing up with this framework, one can see why meeting my teammate Brandon was a disorienting experience. Brandon was born and raised in Hawai’i. I had never spoken to someone about Hawai’i who wasn’t a vacationer (although I didn’t think about that at the time.) Upon having just one interaction with him at Mission Year’s National Orientation, it was clear to me that my knowledge of Hawai’i was poorly informed and needed to be dismantled immediately. I found myself beginning to ask this question: What does Hawai’i look like not from the perspective of a vacationer, but from one who calls Hawai’i home—from one who has laughed, cried, and flourished there? Brandon spoke of Hawai’i not with the flippant commercial escapism I had heard from others coming back from vacation, but he spoke as one deeply in love with the land. With my framework of “Hawai’i as the ultimate vacation get-away” and his deep love for the land of Hawai’i, it became clear that he had much to teach me if I would first humble myself and listen.
Thankfully, I chose this road less traveled, and admitted that what I knew of Hawai’i was a caricature and not at all representative of the reality that my teammate knew. I owned my ignorance: I knew nothing about Hawai’i, but I wanted to learn. Since that day, Brandon has been relentlessly gracious into inviting me into the Hawai’i that he knows—a Hawai’i rich in history and culture, a Hawai’i that has a valuable perspective and worldview to offer the mainland (and the world).
This year in building a relationship with Brandon I am continually being invited into seeing Hawai’i as a place and not an objectified paradise. I am being schooled on the mainland. And I think both of our lives have been enriched by it.
I anticipated that this would happen by living in Southwest Philadelphia. What I didn’t anticipate is that this cross-cultural learning would also happen by living with my team in my house community.
If you would have asked me what I thought about Hawai’i before this year, I may have mentioned that it’s a vacation place to escape and unwind, a tropical paradise of sorts where all your problems melt away. I may have mentioned that I thought Hawai’i was the epitome of paradise (the pictures I had seen were beautiful), and the ultimate vacation get-away.
I may have told you about the many themed “Hawaiian Days” we had every year at school where people dressed up in grass skirts and tropical shirts and wore plastic leis from Party Place and a coconut bra (that’s only if you were really getting crazy with the theme, of course.) I may have also told you about the Hawaiian-themed birthday parties I saw or went to. There would be relaxing island-themed music, more leis, tiki torches, grass skirts, hibiscus flowers, pineapple and ham, the limbo, swimming, flip-flops, more pineapple—Hawaiian themed party.
That’s what I knew of Hawai’i coming into this year. I knew a caricature of a place based on grade school theme weeks, birthday parties, and escapism vacation advertising. In my mind people didn’t actually live on Hawai’i; it was just a paradise-land that people visited—a paradise land where all your problems went away.
Growing up with this framework, one can see why meeting my teammate Brandon was a disorienting experience. Brandon was born and raised in Hawai’i. I had never spoken to someone about Hawai’i who wasn’t a vacationer (although I didn’t think about that at the time.) Upon having just one interaction with him at Mission Year’s National Orientation, it was clear to me that my knowledge of Hawai’i was poorly informed and needed to be dismantled immediately. I found myself beginning to ask this question: What does Hawai’i look like not from the perspective of a vacationer, but from one who calls Hawai’i home—from one who has laughed, cried, and flourished there? Brandon spoke of Hawai’i not with the flippant commercial escapism I had heard from others coming back from vacation, but he spoke as one deeply in love with the land. With my framework of “Hawai’i as the ultimate vacation get-away” and his deep love for the land of Hawai’i, it became clear that he had much to teach me if I would first humble myself and listen.
Thankfully, I chose this road less traveled, and admitted that what I knew of Hawai’i was a caricature and not at all representative of the reality that my teammate knew. I owned my ignorance: I knew nothing about Hawai’i, but I wanted to learn. Since that day, Brandon has been relentlessly gracious into inviting me into the Hawai’i that he knows—a Hawai’i rich in history and culture, a Hawai’i that has a valuable perspective and worldview to offer the mainland (and the world).
This year in building a relationship with Brandon I am continually being invited into seeing Hawai’i as a place and not an objectified paradise. I am being schooled on the mainland. And I think both of our lives have been enriched by it.
* * *
