The Courage to Succeed: A True American Dream. -Book Series, Chapter 7

 

Chapter 7

“My consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has preserved me from feeling isolated”. — Albert Einstein

Belonging, Not Fitting

I no longer fit there, but I didn't fully belong here either, so I felt like I was in limbo. That's exactly how I felt. Thankfully, as the years have passed, I've gradually discovered more about myself here than I ever did back there. Speaking out fervently against injustice and what's considered normal but shouldn't become my defining stance. For the longest time, I've refused to accept certain things, like the so-called everyday occurrences that persist in my birth country. I continue to speak out against violence toward children and women; just because it's common doesn't mean it should be accepted. Incivility and entitled attitudes or cultures are not normal and should not be normalized.

There was the Florida teacher who couldn't believe I didn't know what the northern lights were (the irony). Then there were the jokes: as a receptionist, I asked a customer for his last name. He replied, "English." I repeated, "Sir, may I have your last name?" He continued, "English." Finally, I said, "Am I speaking French to you or what?" He responded, "No, my last name is English!"

Once, while paying at a cashier register, the woman asked where I was from, complimenting my beautiful olive skin tone. I said, "Colombia," and she replied, "Oh, South Carolina?" Another woman in line said, "Girl, don't you know where Columbia is? Is that country next to Cuba?" I responded, "Surely it is." After that, I came up with a quirky joke. When people ask where I'm from, I say, "Do you want to know? Ok, I am from the deep-deep south." They inevitably ask, "South Carolina?" I say, "Nope, South America." Embracing my Colombian identity, I found joy in educating others about my culture and heritage, turning these encounters into opportunities for cultural exchange.

Another time, I was called into the boss's office because of complaints that I talked too much about Colombia and smiled too much. My immediate supervisor clearly couldn't stand me. She was consistently critical, making remarks like, "If you're so proud to be Colombian, what are you doing up here?" and "Why are you always smiling?" Or the classic: "Hey, did you pick up the mail yet? The mail doesn't arrive on a donkey here."

But life continued, and I kept doing what I knew best, looking forward and moving one step closer to my goals. My English could have been better then, and my accent gave me away. Sometimes, people would look at me and ask, "So, what part of Mexico are you from?" From the older guy who told me I didn't look like I had finished third grade to those who, upon learning I came from Colombia, asked if I brought any coca; by that, I mean cocaine, not the soda drink or those who immediately assumed I was either Mexican or Indian. There's nothing wrong with being Mexican or Indian; I am Colombian. But I didn't let these stereotypes define me. I continued to embrace my Colombian identity, dispelling these misconceptions with every interaction.

By then, it was a thing: being Colombian somehow equaled Pablo Escobar. Colombia equals one of the best coffees in the world, the most beautiful roses, and why not, very talented people?

I'll never forget the summer of 2009, when I was unexpectedly invited to speak at a Bar Association meeting at the prestigious Ambassador Hotel in Chicago, famously associated with the Kennedys. This was not something I had actively pursued; instead, it came about through the efforts of Mr. H.T., a friend of my friend Mike O'Malley. Mr. H.T. had heard about me—a newcomer, an immigrant striving to make her mark—and was intrigued by my unique journey. He felt that my story was one that needed to be shared, and thus, he extended the invitation for me to speak at the meeting.

Despite the brevity of the presentation, just five minutes—it was a momentous occasion for me. It wasn't just about the words I spoke, but the overwhelming sense of affirmation I received. Standing there, sharing my journey and experiences, was a powerful testament to my progress and a source of immense pride. It reaffirmed my belief that I was on the right path, making strides in a new world that was both daunting and promising.

My sense of identity is deeply rooted in my origins but goes beyond nationality. While I've always acknowledged my Colombian heritage, it has significantly shaped my values, beliefs, and perspectives. I have never allowed it to be the sole definition of who I am. My identity encompasses more than my place of birth; it reflects my broader humanity and global citizenship. I view myself as a person, a human, a member of a worldwide community, and someone who can navigate both the most affluent and the most impoverished neighborhoods with equal ease and respect.

This perspective allows me to not only embrace the richness of my background but also to engage with the world in a broader context. It's about seeing myself not just through the lens of where I come from but as part of a larger, interconnected world. This mindset enables me to walk confidently in diverse spaces, celebrating my roots while contributing to and learning from the global community, and rejoicing in the beauty of cultural diversity.