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It was last fall when my teammates Brandon, Erin, and I first went to the Asian supermarket in South Philly. We were going with a small amount of cash from our weekly food budget to get some items that we couldn't get at our local Save-a-Lot.
Brandon had advocated for us to go because what we were eating was not what he ate on a normal basis in Hawai'i. He had said that we could go to the Asian supermarket so he could get some food he was familiar with to make for him (and for all of us.) The conversation leading up to this decision was incredibly fascinating to me. I remember Brandon explaining his perspective to the team. "I don't eat mac and cheese and all of this at home," he said. "This is not what I want to eat." I remember staring at him, thinking "Doesn't everyone eat mac and cheese? What do you eat if you don't eat all of these things? I don't understand Hawai'i at all. Like, at all." I didn't say this out loud of course, but I was definitely thinking it.
I wanted to understand where Brandon was coming from, but I had no framework to understand. It appeared that I was once again about to be schooled on the mainland. To me, mac and cheese had always been a comfort food. To me, what we were buying was fine and good and "normal." By Brandon advocating for something different, he was showing me that my "normal" was not normal for everyone else. It seemed that I would have to take a step out of my worldview and step into the worldview of another.
And so there we were, outside of the Asian supermarket in South Philly, ready to shop for...something. We walked in and I immediately found myself in unfamiliar territory. The packaging was all unfamiliar on the dry goods, with languages I didn't know and brands I had never heard of. The fruit section had jackfruit (look it up) and rambutans (look them up) and all of these other fruits I had never laid eyes on. The coolers on the edge of the supermarket housed noodles and green vegetables and eggs and lots of other items I can't name. The candy looked fun, but the only items that were familiar were Pocky sticks.
I had never been in a place that was so unfamiliar in a space where I was living. I knew that if I were told to make a meal from items in this supermarket, it would be incredibly hard for me because I couldn't identify what items were. In that moment I saw the strength of people who enter a different cultural context (via immigration, migration, refugee status), and navigate the unfamiliar. (Let's be honest, this strength is in people everywhere who are navigating a new context, but more on that later.)
Although the supermarket was unfamiliar to me, Brandon was having quite a different experience. "Oh! These candies are great! This is my childhood." "Kimchi. YES." "Look. Amber. This is a taro." "Oh, these are the best when you heat them up." "MOCHI ICE CREAM. YES." I walked behind him as he commented on items on the shelves. Granted, he didn't know everything in the store, but he sure knew a ton more than I did. I found myself giggling at him, smiling--his spirit was incredibly alive in that place, more alive than I had seen in a while. In the familiar, he flourished, and it was beautiful to witness.
Being in the Asian Supermarket was a humbling experience for me because I recognized that unlike Brandon, I would not flourish in this place because everything was so unfamiliar. This state of being humbled shifted something in me.
My eyes were opened to see. For the first time I saw the hardship of being in a new context where all was unfamiliar. I saw how moving from one cultural context to another may be one of the most isolating and lonely experiences of one's life. I saw how sacred and important familiar spaces are to people who are navigating something different. I also saw how often these spaces are marginalized and disregarded, not funded and dismissed as unimportant (much like how I've seen people moving from one cultural context to another being marginalized and disregarded--not reflective of Love.)
On that day I was converted--I was schooled. I saw the importance of these spaces, and I knew that from that day on that I wanted to support these spaces in whatever capacity was appropriate.
Today was the rocky start of living that out in Akron, Ohio.
I found myself meandering the aisles of Hana Asian Market in Akron, looking at goods that were now familiar (mochi, kimchi, Kikkoman,) but a majority that were still not familiar to me. I was reminded of that day when I was first invited into the unfamiliar, and how that was the start of a large change in myself (full of the Divine in ways I have yet to be able to name). I asked the owner how long the market had been there and she said seven years. I wondered about how that journey has been for her. I wondered about the AAPI (Asian American Pacific Islander) population in Akron. I wondered about ASIA Inc. I wondered about much more. After taking a solid inventory of the market, I bought edamame and sweet chili sauce to share with my family (and a coconut juice for myself), and drove home.
It's a small step, but it is the start of something. All I know is that I'm committed to living out in Akron how I've been so graciously schooled on the mainland in Philadelphia.
And although I don't know what this "living it out" is going to look like in the 330, I pray that God would guide my steps the next few months in wisdom and a really healthy dose of humility.
I pray that in some small way, you, reader, are schooled on the mainland right along with me as I stumble awkwardly alongside others towards building Beloved Community in Akron, Ohio.
“Beloved community is formed not by the eradication of difference but by its affirmation, by each of us claiming the identities and cultural legacies that shape who we are and how we live in the world.”
-bell hooks
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