Disclaimer: I believe that people are equal and to be valued, regardless of race, sexuality, religion, gender, ethnicity. This was a difficult post to write. I write it acknowledging that working cross culturally is never easy. I am not in any way comparing my situation to the experiences that people have of racial persecution. Simply, this is something I am thinking through.
Barely a day goes by before I’m reminded of how “white” I am. I often think of that Sesame Street song; “one of these things is not like the other…” The colour of my skin has never been of so much interest to so many people.
Yesterday it happened as I was pedaling a massive pumpkin home. “Hey Palangi! Where you going? You buy me some noodles?” A group of young boys were interested in my destination and the contents of my wallet. (Which was zero by the way. I’d spent it on my pumpkin.) “Alu ki api.” Going home. Then they shouted a bunch of things at me in Tongan that I didn’t understand and chased me down the street.
I struggle to be seen as so white. I struggle to be called Palangi. I’m not just “white person.” I have a name.
The interest in me purely because I’m white, slowly turning a shade of bronze, worries me. The connotations of my whiteness worry me too. I must be rich (we can barely pay our power bill as we choose to live simply), I must have all the answers. I don’t have the answers. I’m interested in their answers.
In Tonga, being white elevates me to an uncomfortable position of authority. I don’t want to be treated according to my skin tone, especially not in the middle of my training on discrimination and stigma. Kinda defeats the purpose.
It makes me wonder, that in allowing myself to be seen as so different, if I am subtlety condoning identifying someone as the “other.”
To my co-workers I’m strange, as I don’t enjoy being the guest. I want to be their friend and be seen as their equal. They want me to take the first piece of cake. And so the psychological war begins.
The cake sits there. The icing starts to melt. I refuse to cut it, causing shame to them, denying their hospitality. They refuse to eat first, reinforcing the fact that that I’m an outsider. That some barriers I won’t overcome.
We all smile and laugh, masking our frustration. I’m sure we are all silently yelling, to just cut the damn cake.
But cake can mean so much more than cake.
“There is no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female. For you are all one in Christ Jesus” – Galations 3:28
One of the most well constructed and thought provoking posts you’ve made, my darling. I can see you poured your heart into this, and I appreciate what you’ve written!
I agree Hannah, it’s the same everywhere you go. In Cambodia I am a Barrang (in Thailand it’s Farrang), which actually means French, but all Westerners are lumped in there. I hear it everywhere I go and imagine their saying ‘ooh, look at the Barrang’. In Phnom Penh there are so many Barrang, I imagine in Tonga there are a lot less Palangi and so it feels even more isolating.
I thought long and hard about this when I first arrived in Phnom Penh. Should I be insulted by it? Being labelled by my appearance. I always support other cultural groups who are insulted by this, why shouldn’t I be?
And yes, at work we are the outsiders. My colleagues all treat me as though I’m the expert and it’s very overwhelming. My boss asks me permission to do things. I stare at him blankly for a while and then say something like ‘you’re the boss’, to which he will reply something similar to ‘but you’re the expert’. Which is terrifying!
But I guess, as much as we hate it, we are the outsiders. When our year is up, if we want to, we can go home. We will not be here forever. If we were, maybe it would be different. As hard as I find it when children yell an excited ‘hello!’ and then hold their hands out for money, I can’t deny that I am a privileged person (of course, I never give them money). And as strange as it is to be called white person, or French, it’s not said in a derogatory way, it’s not meant to put me down, it’s just the people of Cambodia noticing my difference.
You will probably always be the guest, as much as you hate it. I decided early on to accept that, which does not mean I have to like it. I continue to make efforts to show that I am the same. But when push comes to shove, the two bedroom apartment I return to has two people living in it, not an entire family. If I get dengue fever, I can afford to go to the clinic and buy medication. If Cambodia was hit by natural disaster or war, I’d be immediately flown to safety (whether or not I wanted to). Like it or not, we are different, and if we refused to acknowledge that, I think it would be an insult to the people we work with.
Doesn’t mean you always have to eat the first slice of cake though. Maybe you should take some cake in, so they can cut it and eat if first.
Thanks for your thoughts Bek!
You’re right, in Tonga I am very visible as there is such a small population in general, and expats/volunteers would make up not even 1%. Sometimes the term “Palangi” comes with curiosity and interest, which I am fine with. Sometimes it has been used with contempt and suspicion.
I’m aware that I will always be in a position of privilege but I try my best to overcome these differences (where appropriate) and form good relationships. It is hard when the very people I am working with, continue to reinforce this privilege.
As Drew and I are thinking of staying for longer than our one year, and potentially coming back later in life with our family, these are important issues to think about.
I like your suggestion about bringing in the cake but sadly that doesn’t work either. I have brought in many “gifts” and things to share but people either patiently wait for me to eat first, or wait until I leave the office to help themselves!
Hi Hannah,
I’m not sure if this will help, but it may be interesting reading for you anyway, if you get time and enough internet connection to peruse this: http://khmerkronicle.blogspot.com/
I met Kathryn at the AFES Apprentices conference earlier this year, we were in a small group together, and she shared some of her difficulties in being in an unusual culture (she’s Australian, but married a Cambodian and lived there for a few years. They’re back in Aus as he studies at bible college and she helps with the International students at UTS – she still struggles with being unfamiliar with everything). It’s probably a bit opposite to what you’re struggling with (in that everyone expects her to understand how Australia works but she actually feels out of place) but perhaps it will be encouraging to know that others also struggle with cross-cultural ministry/living. Kathryn comments on a lot of the little things, very insightful (and similar to your observations with the cake). I’ll pray for you.
PS. Did you take that photo? It’s beautiful.