In Deep Culture Shock at the beginning of last semester I started a "I Hate America" journal. In moments of frustration I wrote. As Time went on the tone of my journals changed from anger to sorrow; and from sorrow to thankfulness. Here are the small doses of culture shock:
"I want to scream! Their conversations so trivial. Do they have any idea of the madness and wonder or the world around them. So self involved they close the door to the world, and board it up with lip gloss, cloths and football stars."
"I want to tell them. If I had but a minute, or a life time to open there eyes to the world would they see. For to see, to truly see takes effort. Effort is fueled by curiosity. If someone has no question will they every hear the answer"
"How long must I silently scream. My lips are dry and my lungs fatigued. I try to communicate but fall short. I try to explain and get weary of blank stares. It hits me like a whip of cold air, It is not them; Its me. I'm different, I'm the outsider."
"It's not their fault. All they know is here, all I knew was there."
"My life a paradox: I want to escape, curl up in a ball and be kicked to a far corner of the earth. Yet I want to be with people and enjoy fruitless things. Spend my time in denial; get lost in the crowd."
"I wear a wig to stand out, They laugh. I wear a scarf to be different, they compliment. I wear Africa around my heart, They admire. I wear to express my pain, They don't get it."
"I miss; oh such a weak word to describe the physical burn in my stomach for you. I long to lay under your sun, feel the sweet warmth of my face, Smell the rich dirt and wet coffee of your hills, Hear your rhythmic language tingle my ears."
I look back on this journals and sigh. I am in a much better state right now then I was at the beginning of the school year. I am so thankful that I have come to this point. More and more I am adjusting and starting to enjoy this Adventure called Oklahoma.
Looking back, I pretty much went through the same thing when I first moved to America. Oklahoma is definitely not the most culturally diverse place. My mom (who is still not an American citizen) tried so hard to make me and my brother fit in, that we missed out on all the wonders of being different. On my first day of school, my mom dressed me as a cowboy; complete with cowboy boots, jeans, tucked in denim button up shirt, slicked back hair, and a cowboy hat to top things off. The outfit wasn't actually that different from everyone else (sadly), but my dark skin and thick accent made me stick out like a sore thumb. I spent way to much of my life trying to conform, when I should have been appreciating my differences.
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