Luna Jimenez Seminars

Be yourself.  This is the simplest way I know to describe “authenticity”—a guiding principle when working with groups around diversity issues and a core competency for an inclusive work environment.

While the statements, “be who you are” or “stay true to yourself,” sound simple, they are surprisingly challenging to live up to. This is especially true in a society that explicitly values and rewards particular groups and ways of “being” over others.

Many of us purposely change how we present ourselves in work environments to be seen as more credible or to advance our projects in our organizations. On some level, this strategy makes sense as we need political support and buy-in to be effective in our jobs. However, some of these decisions —how we dress and talk, how much we reveal about our personal lives, core values and beliefs, and how we live—have become so familiar and reinforced by co-workers and society that the connection with our authentic selves begins to unravel. We lose sight of who we really are.

I recently led a workshop where a participant insisted I couldn’t be Latina because I was so “articulate.” I grew up in a household where my parents spoke Spanish to each other, but spoke to us children in English because they didn’t want us to speak with an accent. I watched my father and grandparents be “stigmatized” as uneducated or less intelligent because English was clearly not their native tongue.

I learned as a very young person that English was the language of power and access. I excelled at it, especially verbally. I knew that skillfully commanding English would bring recognition for being smart, because I would sound smart. Yet, I’m most “at home” in Spanglish. My tone softens, as does my heart, when those melodic syllables roll off my tongue. For the most part, I don’t reveal that part of me in work settings. I remain wary of both the stigma and its possible “exclusionary” effect on non-Spanish speakers, even when I translate what I say. I worry that I may offend someone in power and as a result lose a contract or client, or worse, my credibility.

When I hold back from speaking in my more familiar tongue, I have already lost credibility because I contradict my value of being authentic. In order to come more in alignment with my value, sometimes it’s enough for me to be open about how higher education and especially my decision to adopt “very formally educated” English impacted me. Other times, it makes sense to slip into Spanglish and share this aspect of myself. The outcome is two-fold:  I bring more of myself to whatever I am doing, and this benefits everyone around me. Another outcome is that by being more authentic I invite others to do the same.

I recently asked workshop participants to do an activity in their first language.  The resistance from a small group of immigrants was palpable. The room filled with nervous chatter, anxious clarifying questions, uncomfortable shifting in chairs, and even visible upset at me for making such a request. After the exercise, several of these participants shared with me, one-on-one, how powerful it was to be able to speak their own languages at work. They cried about how hard it was to speak only English and how doing so led them to forget certain words in their birth language. The grief was evident. As I walked through the lunch area after the session, the participants volunteered to teach me “thank you” and “good-bye” in Romanian, Tibetan, Arabic, and Eritrean, just to name a few. The participants felt safe enough to be more authentic in the workplace and the trust increased for everyone.

Being authentic means being willing to be all of who you are. The truth is, being less of who we are impacts our organizational effectiveness. It takes effort—more energy, more resources, more time—to be less of myself since my brain is preoccupied with what and how much to change or hold back. If you are part of a group that has institutional power—English dominant, male, white, Christian, heterosexual, etc.—you are especially poised to create more safety for others. You can do this by engaging your access and credibility to model authenticity and insist on a workplace that actively counteracts pressures to assimilate.

Where have you changed who you are in order to fit in or gain more acceptance?  What can you do to be more authentic in the workplace? How would this increase the trust level and allow others to be more authentic? How would this impact diversity and increase inclusion where you work? I forward to reading your thoughts and responding to your comments!

Originally published in 1995, the second edition (2002) of Paul Kivel’s Uprooting Racism: How White People Can Work for Racial Justice, continues to be an accessible, must-have book for anyone working to eradicate racial injustice. Kivel is a white man, writing to other white men and women. He mixes easy to understand explanations with practical suggestions and humor to successfully push his readers to look beyond individual acts of prejudice to the wider scope of institutional racism and the inequitable allocation of power and resources. As he writes, “White racism is the uneven and unfair distribution of power, privilege, land and material goods favoring white people…although we can and should all become more tolerant and understanding of each other, only justice can put out the fire of racism.”

With provocative chapter titles such as “I’m Not White” and “I’m Not A Racist,” Kivel engages his readers and acknowledges the social context that makes people shy away from identifying as “white.”  He validates that for many of his readers, there is a strong desire to individualize their identities and distance themselves from the associations that come with that label. He goes on to illuminate how the tendency to focus solely on personal prejudice can impede efforts to dismantle racism in the greater context: the “institutional nature of [centuries of white racism] is more entrenched than racial prejudice. In fact, it is barely touched by changes in individual white consciousness.”

While shifts in individual white consciousness are necessary for racial justice, Kivel also provides strategies and suggestions to take the next steps towards combating institutional racism. He explores initiatives such as Affirmative Action, redistribution of economic resources, investment in communities of color, and supporting democratic, anti-racist multiculturalism. The revised edition includes an updated bibliography and the more current topics of anti-Arab prejudice and how the U.S.’s health care system perpetuates racial inequalities—an especially timely issue.

This book is an engaging guide to identifying the social, political, and economic context in which institutional racism is grounded. Subscribe to the LJS blog feed to read more reflections about this book. We hope you’ll add your voice to the discussion!

Do you have your change list?  Did you manage not to sensor what you wrote?  Have you looked at it since you made it last month?  If so, when you looked at it again, did you make changes to it (or want to)?  If you haven’t had a chance to do the second step (or the first step for that matter!) in the process of having the life you want, revisit the previous blogs to get caught up to this point (starting with November 2009).

Last month I asked you to identify what would need to change to have the life you want by creating a “Changes List.”  Some of you might have things like:  “don’t take on more work projects until I cross some off my list” or “spend more time with my family.”  Some of you might have things like:  “change my job,” “have a child,” or “move from my current home or apartment.”  For some of you the changes might seem relatively small, while for others the changes could feel like they would send shockwaves throughout your life—and the lives of those closest to you.  Notice if the changes feel large or small. Of course, bigger changes will require more resource—financial, emotional, and planning, etc.  In the end though, it’s not the size of the change that matters; it’s your capacity to make the change happen. And building that capacity is what this process is about!

The second tool (which is a companion to the second step) involves categorizing your “Change List” into three “Change Arenas.”  Below I will briefly define how I use the terms “attitude,” “responsibility,” and “expectation” and give some examples of each.  As you review your list and read this article, begin to put marks by each item to indicate which category you think best describes your change.

By “attitudes” I mean beliefs that you hold about yourself that contribute to the current situation of misalignment.  These attitudes will need to change in order to create something different.  For example, an attitude on my “Change List” is to let go of the idea that if someone needs me, it’s my duty to be available to them.  This attitude—both of responding to others’ needs and this being a way to uphold my sense of “duty”—keeps me stuck.  I continue to respond to others’ needs (feeling more resentful along the way) and even as “duty” overrides my own priorities, I find myself unable to say “no.”  What attitudes are on your “Change List?” What would happen if you changed this belief? Even though we know these attitudes need to change to create change, they can be ingrained, almost inherent to us, that change feels impossible.

The second “Change Arena” is “responsibilities:” actions you take that, with diminished choice, feel more like duty and obligation.  Responsibilities are part of how we spend our lives: benign actions that enhance the functioning of our lives.  In themselves, they can be interesting and even fun!  When these responsibilities no longer align with our priorities or larger sense of purpose, they can feel like more like obligation—serving the needs of others, but not ours. Discerning the difference between a “responsibility” and an “obligation” is mostly about rigidity.  For example, I have a responsibility to pay my mortgage.  It turns into an obligation when I can only imagine doing it by staying at a job I hate or when I feel like it’s up to me, and me alone, and there isn’t any help. My responsibility can be met in any number of creative ways: I could rent out my home and move in with friends or family temporarily; I could get a roommate to help reduce the financial strain; I could sell my home; etc.  To be truly open to other creative ways to meet our responsibilities, we’ll usually bump up against preciously-defended attitudes.  For example, yours might be “I’m independent and self-sufficient and I don’t need help from anyone.”  That certainly makes imagining moving in with friends or family, even temporarily, seem undoable.  As you categorize your change list, you’ll find these three “Change Arenas” end up supporting each other to keep the status quo intact.

And the final change arena is “expectations:” what others think or believe about you.  These can be even more compelling than what we believe about ourselves—especially if these expectations are supported by society.  Of course, these expectations may or may not be true, but we have internalized them so they are now ours and feel true, regardless.  One of my priorities is to write a book.  Staying in the daily structure of my current life wouldn’t support me to carve out time to focus on that goal.  One item on my change list was to move somewhere else temporarily—which would mean not living with my partner (his job does not have that kind of flexibility).  An expectation that also showed up on my Change List is “a good partner shares the daily responsibilities of life together.” Of course, living somewhere else would prevent me from contributing to those daily responsibilities.  Making this change brought me up against the external images of how a partnership is “supposed” to be.  I didn’t have a model for partners living a part—although I know this is not uncommon.  This expectation needed to change in order to continue to see my value as a partner—even if I were to live somewhere else.  Of course, it also challenged my own attitude to respond to others’ needs.  If I weren’t physically there, I couldn’t respond to my partners’ needs.  What are some expectations you would have to question in order to have the life you want?  How much of these expectations are really yours that you project onto others?  How much of these expectations are really from others? From society?

Take out another piece of paper.  Put three columns on it.  Label the first one “Attitude,” the second one “Responsibility,” and the third one “Expectation.”   As you look at your list of changes, rewrite your change list so that each item is now in one of the three columns.  Which attitudes and responsibilities (or responsibilities and expectations or attitudes and expectations) reinforce each other, keeping the other in place and therefore more difficult to change?  What patterns or trends do you notice?  If you could distill one or two core themes of change, what would they be?  Share your insights with a friend or write them in a journal—or both.  Keep your lists handy because next month we’ll explore the third step in the process!

Recently I found myself in the waiting room of a public health clinic in San Juan, Puerto Rico.  When I called the clinic the day before, I was told patients would be seen on a first-come, first-served basis and that the doctor wouldn’t arrive until 9:30 am. I stratgically arrived at 9 am so I could be one of the first in line.  I was a busy professional, after all, and had a full day of appointments; I needed to make this doctor’s visit quick so I could get back to work.

When I arrived at 9 am the following morning the waiting room was full.  Already the board displayed numbers in the triple digits.  How did this happen?!  When I asked the receptionist, I  was informed the clinic had been open since 6:30 am.  Patients were expected to wait up to 3 hours before the doctor even arrived!  First one line to get the forms, another line to return them, then another number for waiting to see the doctor.  I had allotted an hour for this visit.  As the second hour drew to a close, my impatience had grown.  No more phone calls to make, no more text messages to return, no more emails to respond to, no more Facebook posts to read.  I could feel my USer entitlement brewing, like a pot of milk left to simmer on the stove–for a long time it can look like nothing’s happening but then all of a sudden the liquid froths over the top of the pot and burns the bottom of the pan!

Patience, Nanci, patience.  It was the voice of my papi in my head. I tried to bring him into the waiting room with me. Almost straining I sought to hear his non-judging, gentle, coaxing words about patience.  He was born on this island and, while this may not be true of all Puerto Ricans, he understands something about connection, community and waiting his turn so that everyone is treated fairly.  I was born in the US where we call this “inefficiency”–a word laced with all the embedded judgment of superiority you can imagine and my tone can muster.

In his book “Uprooting Racism” Paul Kivel writes specifically about white people’s sense of entitlement because of racism: “the feeling that one is entitled to certain goods or services more than others are, or that is [sic] one is entitled to be served by the others because of one’s class, race, and/or gender.” (p. 42)  On the US mainland I am painfully familiar with being on the receiving end of this behavior.  I have accumulated many experiences where people simply don’t see me because I am female and Latina–and when I was little: disabled, poor and young, or all of the above.

Watching people talk over me, look through me or disdain my presence fed my passion for justice–and outrage at the unjust systems that perpetuate these behaviors.  Less obvious to me in the midst of this systemic assault, was the slow and insidious entitlement training I was receiving as a USer.  I had internalized the very attitudes and learned to act out the very behaviors that I found so baffling and outrageous.

Standing in the middle of a grocery store aisle without any apparent awareness that you are blocking the flow of carts.  Walking to the front of a line, even though there are people clearly waiting their turn to be attended.  Not noticing the people who clean the office building where you work. Ignoring the bus person or wait staff at the restaurant except if they make contact, “mess up,” or you require attention.  On countless occasions I’ve witnessed these behaviors and felt condemnation toward the person acting entitled.  I have also acted out these very behaviors many times myself and also felt these same feelings of condemnation for myself.  The condemnation serves none of us–it is yet another by-product of feeling superior to another human being.  How can we break this cycle–and bring about an end to entitlement?

1) Slow down.  When we are going fast, feel stressed and trying to get a lot of things done we pay less attention to people around us and are vulnerable to acting out entitlement behaviors.  When we slow down we are better able to pay attention and be more present–and less urgency helps us be more thoughtful, considerate and patient.

2) Ask someone close to you, preferably from a targeted group, to share some of the ways you act entitled.  Because non-targets (the group with institutional power and access) are trained to be clueless, we don’t immediately recognize our own entitlement behaviors. Inviting someone else to “see” us in this way helps us grow and also can deepen our relationships as allies.

3) Question why you feel better than someone else.  (This can also take the form of feeling sorry for someone else.) When you pulled to judge or pity someone else, notice why.  Usually feeling better than someone else is a cover for where you feel bad about yourself or less than someone else.  Remember: both reactions are inaccurate. You are neither better or less than anyone else.

4) Decide to not be clueless.  Society grooms its dominant groups into cluelessness patterns.  If we were aware we would interrupt the injustice and require the system change.  In entitlement we lose connection with other people to the point of feeling superior to them.  This is the basis for class oppression and the justification for institutional oppressions overall. When we practice awareness we take important steps to interrupting our own and other’s entitlement.

5) Have compassion. Remember entitlement attitudes and behaviors are not your personal or individual fault–nor that of anyone else with entitlement patterns.  If we can seek understanding and to see the goodness in others (and ourselves)  instead, we might be closer to having true compassion for that person (or ourselves)–without feeling sorry for them (or ourselves).

Where do you act entitled?  Where did you first see this behavior on someone else?  Which group(s) of people do you feel superior to (smarter than, better looking than, happier than, more competent than, etc.)? Why? Which group(s) of people do you feel inferior to? Why? Which of the above suggestions did you use to interrupt entitlement? What else have you tried?  How did it work?  What did you learn?

This is part of an on-going blog series (see November 2009 for beginning of the series) focused on going beyond the search for work/life balance and onto having the life you want—guilt-free.  In the first step I asked you to prioritize what is important to you and encouraged journaling to help clarify the values underlying your priorities.  Once you determine what is most important by clarifying your top priority (i.e. health and well-being) and understanding why this is your top priority, deepening your understanding of what values or goals are made alive through this priority (i.e.. health and well-being is important because I want to give my best to my family and community service for the long haul)—then ask yourself:  Does my life reflect what matters to me most?  In other words, are you spending your time in alignment with these priorities?  If your answer is “no” (as it is for most of us) then the next step in the process is to look at what needs to change. The second step asks you to identify what needs to change about how you spend your time to reflect your key priority.

Continuing to do the same thing will not bring about new results.  I have heard this advice again and again, usually followed by some statement like, “Just choose to spend your time differently.  It’s up to you.”  This statement is not inaccurate; it’s just not the whole story. If it were only about doing something different, then we would.  What I’m already doing is supported by both my own thoughts and attitudes (i.e. I like feeling indispensable at home, knowing that I am needed; I have a reputation for producing a high quality work product and that’s important to my sense of self-worth; etc.) as well as the structures and relationships in my life (i.e. I’m in charge of certain committees and groups in the community service work I do; my partner and I have routines around cooking, cleaning and bill paying where my role and time are defined and my responsibilities clear; my supervisor and I have deadlines and rhythms in my work life that hold me accountable, etc.).  Shifting my time to reflect shifting priorities means that what I currently chose to do (and the expectations, responsibilities and beliefs associated with them) is also now in question.

Shifting choices in how you spend your time will bring about change.  And with change comes opportunities for something different to happen—some of which we have planned for in adopting the new behavior or attitude (i.e. I chose to work out at lunch because I want a healthier lifestyle and I am becoming more fit); some of which we may not have anticipated (i.e. My work lunch-time buddies are disappointed that I’m not available to eat lunch with them and hang out the way I used to; I’m losing the friendship circle I had with them).  Change threatens the status quo.  Those in our lives who benefit most from how you currently spend your time are likely those most invested in you not making changes.  We will return this aspect of outside support for these changes in a later step; however, for now it’s enough to be aware of this aspect of the change.  And to try, as best you can, to not let it overly impact this next step for you in the process of having the life you want:   brainstorm a list of what needs to change in order to spend your time in alignment with your key priorities.

You know what needs to change.  No one else has to see this list. And you don’t have to do anything with the list. Not ever.  Just making the list and bringing it to your consciousness is a big step all by itself.  Take out some paper and a pen now.  (Or maybe that journal you’ve started for just this purpose.) You know the drill.  Begin to write.  Try not to censor or block the thoughts as they come.  You are still in charge of what you decide to take on (or not) after you do this exercise.  Nonetheless, it’s still useful to make the changes explicit—as scary as it may feel to put them onto paper.

Now put the list away, for a day or maybe even a few.  Periodically, over the next month, before we introduce the next step, spend time looking over this list.  Sit with it and try not to be too attached to what you see.  Resist any temptations to edit the list.  If you want to do the process again, feel free.  You can generate a “change list” three or four times, if you like.  Each time set it aside.  When you return to it, compare the lists and notice which changes repeatedly rise to the surface. Notice what you see without too much interpretation.  Just notice.  Think about this list as belonging to a dear friend or someone you deeply care about and whose life you want to go well. You deserve this much.

A colleague agreed to let me post this email (Subject: “What Would Nanci Do?”) anonymously.  In it, they share candidly some of the struggles as well as the successes of being a visible ally. How have you interrupted gay oppression as an ally? What did you learn?  What was the impact on you? Others, that you know? I look forward to hearing your thoughts.

Email: Just want you to know how much you inspire me. At this training I participated in, these two amazing master-level trainers facilitated our group. They emphasized working from a positive, strength-based approach.  Yet at one point he used the word gay in a negative context:  “My son would say, ‘Oh that’s so gay.’” The next day a participant was sharing and then used the same phrase. My heart hurt and I thought….”What would Nanci Luna say?” So I raised my hand and commented, “I appreciate working from the positive and using the term ‘gay’ as it has been used certainly is not positive and, I would offer, offensive.” What was beautiful is the young man who said it came and first apologized and then thanked me for putting an end to this use. The beautiful outcome was the young man’s recognition of this exchange…noting he, too, has to continue to grow in respect for self and others. And as he took full ownership for his remarks, we sat together for lunch. I realized that we all learn and grow everyday…he taught me humility and ownership…Nanci taught me love.”

Once I gave up the hunt for balance, realizing this to be a futile search since I could never quite “achieve it” and it kept me on the “feeling bad about myself” treadmill, I began to appreciate that there was something much more valuable available to me:  the life I want—guilt-free.  I write these words almost covertly, tempted to look over my shoulder, as if someone might hear me and begin to refute this precious notion.  And I will confess to you: the idea of having the guilt-free life I want is not yet a reliably-available reality, but rather a perspective I reach for, again and again.

There is a four step process and four corresponding tools that I have found useful in heading toward the life I want.  Over the next few months, I will share these with you on this blog.  I hope you will create some time in your life to experiment with them, share what you learn with me and others, and make them a part of the life you want for you.

The first step in the process is prioritizing. As a queen of multi-tasking, everything feels equally important to me (except, of course, if I have that pending deadline!).  And, to be honest, I want a life without limits. Prioritizing can feel like I’m “limiting” myself because it feels like saying “yes” to one thing is saying “no” to something else—a something else I might also want as a part of my life.  As a result, I resisted prioritizing, kind of like one’s immune system resists a virus—with everything it’s got. By not prioritizing, though, I found myself saying “yes” to things that really weren’t how I wanted to spend my time and energy. I soon felt “out of balance” and eventually resentful and leaky about it (“Why am I stuck doing this?” “This is your project after all,” etc.).

Take a minute right now (Yeah, now.  Why not now?) and grab a piece of paper and something to write with.  Make a list of your top three priorities.  You can use words or phrases or even images to capture what matters most to you. As you look at the list, determine your top priority and put a star by it. Now ask yourself—how much of my time do I actually spend on this priority?  If you are like most of us, it’s not a majority of your waking hours.

Now that you’ve identified what matters most to you, take a few more minutes and write about why it matters to you.  Journaling is the first tool.  Many underlying values are revealed when we understand what makes this priority important to us.  For example, a friend of mine shared that her top priority was her health.  Without being healthy, she felt that she wouldn’t be able to be at her best for anyone else—family, work, friends or community service.  As she got clearer about this value, then she was better able to say “no” to serving on that extra committee if it meant she wouldn’t have time to shop for healthy food or get that 20 minute walk in.  She understood that in the long run she wouldn’t be contributing to those meetings at her best anyway if she was sick or exhausted.

What makes journaling a powerful tool is if you can let your thoughts just flow.  Try not to censor or “think” too much about what you’re writing.  If you do, then those “thought monitors” take over to make sure you’re having the “right” thoughts—which misses the opportunity to know what really are your thoughts.  There is nothing you have to do with what you write. It could be as temporary and short-lived as the time you took to write them down. However, if you make the time to repeat this exercise for several days or even weeks, you will continue to deepen your understanding of the underlying values and begin to notice patterns that are held by this precious priority.

This is the first step in the process you can return to if you notice feeling “out of balance”—really just an indicator that you are not spending your time in a way that aligns with what’s most important to you. Priorities will change. Return to this step periodically to check in and notice what may have shifted.  Remember the more you can do what matters most to you (and do less from “obligations” or “expectations”) the more you will have a life that you want.

Beyond Poverty and Affluence: Towards an Economy of Care By Bob Goudzwaard, Harry de Lange

Originally published in Dutch in 1986, this groundbreaking book is more relevant than ever given our current economic climate and a perfect companion to Johnson’s Privilege, Power, and Difference. Distinguished economists, Goudzwaard and de Lange discuss how traditional economic policies create and exacerbate poverty, environmental degradation, the ever widening divide between communities with privilege and access to resource and those without. They argue that our unquestioning faith in the ability of increasing industrial production to alleviate social and economic problems is unfounded and even destructive.

The authors urge that it is time to create a system that values the contribution of human labor in a radically different way. They propose a 12 step program for recovery based on an economy of care and abundance. They outline six paradoxes (time, care, poverty, health, labor, and scarcity) that highlight how current economic practices leave so many people behind. Despite a rising need for labor, unemployment continues to skyrocket. Given the preponderance of wealth, many people remain deep in poverty without the time activities related to the care of children, the elderly and other members of our communities.

This book is a radical departure from commonly accepted economic policy. The authors argue, “A renewed economic paradigm must proceed from the assumption that people need to advance the interests of others.  People must be willing to think inclusively.  They much choose to be led by considerations other than self-interest, a principle that belongs inextricably to the thought patterns of our society’s current economic paradigm.” Given the economic climate in the US and globally, it is a timely call to rethink how we view production and how we assign value.

Allan Johnson’s Privilege, Power, and Difference is addresses the taboo topic of diversity—power. The first eight chapters are devoted to defining and identifying privilege in all its forms—including its roots in capitalism (see second book review this month for a deeper analysis). Using a mix of theory and real world examples, Johnson successfully endeavors to illustrate for his readers the effects of power and privilege on all of us—and that all of us have a role in making change happen. “The simple truth is that the trouble we’re in can’t be solved unless people who are heterosexual or male or Anglo or white or economically comfortable feel obligated to make the problem of privilege their problem and to do something about it.”

Johnson’s conversational writing style works to diffuse defensiveness while inviting readers to think critically about issues such as “white privilege,” “dominance,” “patriarchy,” “heterosexism,” and “racism.” Normally diversity conversations are more coded and less direct because simply using these words can “turn off” privileged groups from even addressing the issues. Johnson argues, “we have to reclaim some difficult …, language that has been so misused and maligned that it generates more heat than light.  We can’t just stop using words like racism, sexism and privilege, however, because these are tools that focus our awareness on the problem and all the forms it takes.  Once we can see and talk about what’s going on, we can analyze how it works as a system.  We can identify points of leverage where change can begin.”

Johnson educates his readers about the difference between individuals who may or may not “feel” privileged and how people in social categories are awarded privilege and power by the very nature of one’s participation in the system—regardless of if they can “feel” it.  He challenges us to interrupt this system of dominance by breaking our silence around privilege. He writes about our ability to choose a “path of greater resistance” that questions the assumptions that keep power and privilege in place.

For those of you working to implement organizational change, pay close attention to pages 67-70.  Johnson addresses some of the pitfalls of implementing organizational diversity initiatives built upon the “tin cup approach” and the “business case.” He writes, “Perhaps more than any other factor, this reluctance to come to terms with more serious and entrenched forms of [power and the unequal distribution of resources and rewards] is why most diversity programs produce limited and short-lived results.”

The final chapter outlines some clear actions we can take to transform our relationship to privilege. As Johnson states, “We are not prisoners to some natural order that pits us hopelessly and endlessly against one another.” This book offers us a framework for engaging in authentic and healing conversations about privilege and its contribution to systems of inequality.

Shrimp Fried Rice

My dad’s favorite meal is shrimp fried rice. I’ve always wondered why.  So one evening last week, when I took him out for Chinese food and he ordered his favorite dish, I asked him about the first time he had shrimp fried rice.  It was in Chicago in 1950.

On June 4th of that year he had traveled in a World War II bomber converted to passenger travel for Eastern Airlines’ flights from San Juan, Puerto Rico to New York. The red-eye flight took 7 hours.  My dad was strapped into the side of the plane and all he can remember is the noise of the engines.  To this day, he can’t stand that sound and he really doesn’t like to fly.

From New York, a popular final destination for Puerto Ricans at that time, my father continued onto Ypsilanti, Michigan—the closest airport at the time to Detroit, where his two older brothers, Carmelo and Abraham, were already working and living.  They rented rooms in a boarding house across from what is now Tiger Stadium but what used to be called Brigg’s Stadium.  The boarding house was run by a Maltese couple.  The husband, John Feliz, worked at the Ford plant and directed my dad there for employment.

My dad worked on the assembly line installing shiny, chrome bumpers on the 1952 Model T. The air was rank with fumes from the production and he never saw another live thing, except humans. And then there was the noise.  Kind of like a converted World War II bomber airplane.  The Ford plant was a world away from the countryside of rural Puerto Rico, abundant in lush green foliage, fruit trees that burst with the weight of their harvest, chickens eagerly feasting on scraps and bugs, and a chorus of birds and frogs provide the soundtrack. My dad didn’t last two months.

He began selling magazines door-to-door.  He didn’t speak much English. What English he knew he learned during his four years of schooling at the public (free) school in Aguada.  The magazine company decided to move my father to Chicago to sell magazines there.  A business decision that makes me seriously question the judgment of whatever person made that call.

My dad loves people and makes friends everywhere. Really, I mean that. Everywhere.  He connects with anyone, gets people to laugh, plays with people (despite themselves sometimes) and can put most anyone at ease.  Even when they don’t really want to notice or are able to reciprocate, he persists in showing them he likes them and it magically works.  But he’s really not into selling things.  He never really “got” the whole capitalism thing, if you know what I mean. When he and my mom were first married he had a job driving an ice cream truck.  My mom made him quit after more than one paycheck went directly back to the company that owned the truck—my dad owed more than he earned because he would give away the ice cream to all the children who couldn’t afford it (and maybe even to some of them who could!)

Needless to say, he found himself in Chicago, without either of his brothers and without a job in short order. He connected with some cousins who worked at the Hilton in Chicago and roomed with them for a bit. They eventually got him a job in banquets.  Apparently this was Puerto Rican turf.  Many immigrant groups carve out certain industries or areas and get other members of their group employment. It’s more important who you know than what you know.

The first winter my father ever experienced that wasn’t a tropical winter was in Chicago. He still remembers seeing his first snow.  And he still remembers the bitter cold, a chill and a dampness that entered his bones barely covered by a light jacket because, of course, this jíbaro had no winter coat to speak of.  He became ill with bronchitis.  His cousins took him in a taxi to the hospital to get him treatment but then he was pretty much on his own.  Lonely, jobless, sick and alone in this strange and cold city he called his brother, Carmelo, who everyone calls “Pito,” for help.

In the middle of that mid-west winter Pito and his new bride Sally drove from Detroit to Chicago. As my father puts it, “Pito never had a new car.” What struggling immigrant ever does?  The car had no heat but made it to Chicago.  My ill, now-18 year old father was laid in the back seat and covered with whatever extra clothing there was and the trio headed back to Detroit.  About halfway there, the car broke down.  None of them had money to fix it. And now they had no way to get home.

Pito called his Mexican father-in-law, Mr. Garza (my dad still calls him that–the respect for this elder etched in his now almost 80 year-old mind). Mr. Garza drove from Detroit to collect his daughter, new son-in-law and ill brother of his son-in-law somewhere along pre-Interstate route to Chicago.

My father had a gold watch. It was the only thing of any value (except the car that needed fixing) that any of the three of them had.  My father left it with the mechanic and asked him to fix the car with that gold watch as collateral.  He promised they would return for the repaired car with money for payment.  And eventually they did.

At some point in those few weeks of that Chicago winter when my father was looking for something warm to eat, he stumbled across a Chinese restaurant.  Immigrants find each other. It’s just one of those things.  He ordered shrimp fried rice.  And it always stayed his favorite meal after that.