But seriously, I'm a foreigner who sticks out like a bright-pink-minority-of-a-thumb and I've never felt safer in my life.
Meanwhile in America...well, on a good day race is something that is defended; each person given rights and respect regardless of race (or gender, religion, financial status...). But this week hasn't been a "good day". This week every day I see the next headline my heart is wrenched open with sadness and anger: "really America? What part of 'don't shoot each other to bits' is so hard?!"
But it is hard; it's complicated. It's culture and sometimes cross-cultural communication, and laws, and policies, and perceptions, and little every-day actions and comments made without a conscious thought...
But I long for my nieces and nephews to grow up in a world where color is something that isn't judged, but isn't "defended" either. That isn't protested, but isn't the elephant in the room either. I long for them to grow up in a world where color is enjoyed and celebrated.
And in the meantime... this is emotional. I don't want to have a calm and collected debate about right now. I want to be angry about the injustice, on all sides. And pray for mercy for the country that raised me, that my passport says is "home". And I want to do something to make it better.
I'm reminded that maybe the arts were created for moments like these. Maybe music can't fix all the mess and violence and tension and hurt about race. But maybe it can bring us together for just a moment, remind us who we are, give us a glimmer of hope for the day when there will be perfect peace; and help us to simply... grieve together. ( ↓"Mercy" by Max Richter)
