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| How's Your Resume? |
I know a lot of people. I have quite a few friends. And I have a few very close friends. I will admit, most of them are white but that's not on purpose. I do have friends from different backgrounds, ethnicity, religious beliefs, sexual orientation and all that jazz. And I am richer because of it. I love them all.
When I was in grade school, I had a Korean friend. Her name was China. Not China as in the country, but "Chee-na". She came to our school in the second grade. I think she was the only Asian kid in our class. She was the oldest of three siblings, her dad was an electrician and her mom spoke very little English. We quickly became friends. I couldn't even tell you if she was of North Korean decent or South Korean. I really didn't understand that part at my age. I don't think race was ever an issue either. We really didn't talk about it. We were kids. What did we know at that age?
Fast forward to the fifth grade. China & I were still friends. I remember her as being pretty smart but quiet compared to the other kids. Some of the more popular girls were already beginning to form their cliques. I remember being called over by the more popular girls at recess and they were wanting to start a "secret girls club" or something like that and wanted me to join. However, China couldn't be a part of it. They didn't like her for whatever reason. I said "no". If my friend couldn't join, then I didn't want to be a part of the group. I was ostracized from then on in any popular circle. Oh well...
China moved away later on that year when her father got a better job in California. We wrote letters back and forth for a while, but that faded away when we entered Junior High. I think our lives just got busy with all that preteen stuff and the great distance from where we lived. I still think about her from time to time. I wonder how her life has been. I wonder if she is still in California after all these years. I wonder if she thinks of me or remembers our friendship way back in the day. I hope life has treated her well.
When I was in High School, I had an Indian friend. Not American Indian but East Indian. Her name was Varsha. I really didn't understand much about the Indian culture at all. Actually, I was pretty clueless about it, but then again Varsha really didn't talk about it much nor did she wear the traditional Indian saree dress. She wore normal American teenager clothes and wanted normal American teenager things. I was one of three white girls that her parents allowed to come over or pick her up for a night out. I remember having a really hard time understanding her mother because of her accent was so thick when she spoke English. I felt so stupid sometimes and I hope I didn't come across as being rude.
Shortly after High School or maybe it was a year later, Varsha's father found her a "suitor" and she had an arranged marriage. She was barely 19 years old. She never had a real boyfriend nor did she really date anyone in our school. It was not allowed. My friend was devastated and terrified. Again, I was one of three white girls allowed at her wedding. It was very traditional and fascinating. I didn't understand the traditions, the language or anything about it. This was way back before computers, Wikipedia and internet research where I could have done some research. All I could do was just sit there in awe, and watch my friend dressed out in traditional Indian wear be married off. I felt so bad for her. I don't think I will forget the look on her face. She was absolutely mortified.
There was a big reception which I did not go-not sure why. Anxiety maybe...the feeling that I really didn't belong there...feeling uncomfortable myself...as I look back I wish I had stayed a bit longer. I would have given her a hug, taken in the festivities, tried the food and absorb the experience of a different kind of wedding. It truly was an amazing and strange experience to my 18 year old self.
I didn't hear from Varsha much after that. I think I got a couple of letters and that's about it. My mother told me that she had stopped by the house about a year later, with hopes that I would be there. I was not. She showed my mom a few pictures and cried in her arms. She was still scared and rather unhappy at that time. And that was the very last I ever heard from her or about her.
I think of my friend Varsha often. I have hoped that she has found happiness. I did find her on Facebook some time ago, and sent her a "friend request" along with a message. I did not get any kind of reply. That made me a bit sad. However, from what pictures I had seen, she looks very happy, very beautiful and has two children. I guess life has been kind to her. I still have hope that some day, we will reconnect.
When I think of my "foreign" friends when I was young, race never was an issue. Yes, I knew they weren't "white" and they had different beliefs, holidays, food and parental rules. I was never told or taught by my parents about race or diversity and all that other stuff that is such a hot button topic these days. I didn't care that they were from a different ethnic background and neither did my parents. They were my friends. And that was it. It was that simple. Shouldn't all friendships be that way? Until next time...elizinashe
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| Friends Are Priceless Don't Ya Think? |
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