Fear

June 3^rd

Fear. It can drive us, it can grip us, it can motivate us, it can control us. It may have been used to convert us, to mold us, and to form us.

I do not think of myself as a racist or a prejudice (and I hope that no one sees me as one), but I have struggled to break down barriers and deep seeded discrimination in myself.

Perhaps when you hear the word Bronx you immediately think of the 80’s. This was a time when the entire borough was burning down. For that time and others an immediate emotion that comes to mind is fear.

Yet tonight (as I rode home on a subway by myself for the first time) in the dark I looked around and for once love broke in instead of fear. Instead of fearing the man next to me, behind me, around me, I saw a brother. I did not take the moment to think to myself what I would do if the guy across from me tried to steal my backpack, but thought how I could help my brother across from me if someone tried to steal his backpack (and furthermore how could I help my brother who has been put in the terrible place of stealing backpacks).

Granted I am not inconceivably naïve going around after 11 looking for people to talk to, but at the same time my prejudices (that I hate) are beginning to break down (after 3 days!) and I am being transformed.

As I sat on a bench waiting for the train to come (probably looking like the shady 21 year old) an older Asian lady began approaching the seat next to me. I proceeded to look up and she gave me this Mona Lisa-like smile. She then placed her purse right by me and backed away to put a sweater on because it was cold. There was no atmosphere of fear in her and I think that triggered a love for the Bronx in me (and by that I mean of course the people here). (It also helped that in that moment another man down the way was talking in an African language very energetically).

The stereotype of New Yorkers being cold and unfriendly has been completely shattered. Maybe I should say that stereotype has been broken by people in the Bronx at least (since they are the ones I have been interacting with). I love the sporadic community in the parks everywhere and in the subway trains. I get to see every day (wow I really sound like I have been here a lot longer than I have) young men hold bus doors open for older babushkas (grandmothers). People jump at the chance to help you with directions. The guy sitting next to us in Starbucks randomly overhears our conversation and says we have encouraged him (a newly baptized brother in Christ).

Granted this place is not heaven and has plenty of problems. Yet, I have found myself thinking if people would just act like people here, the world should be able to get along with each other with a spirit of respect and love rather than of fear and hate.

. . . . . . . . .

I am still waiting to hear some Lasoga spoken, but I have most definitely heard a good share of Russian being spoken. There is a huge Russian population where we are and it is really exciting to hear in the streets and read in store shop windows. I have yet to speak with someone, but you better believe I am sharpening up my little wimpy tool bag of Russian words!