A Cross Cultural Plunge
When I my fiancée’s mother first told us that she was taking us to see Black Nativity in San Francisco, I must admit that I was a little skeptical. “The entire cast is 220 volts of high energy religious fervor that will jump-start the spirits of all but the most sour souls…” read the announcement in the paper. Not that I am a sour soul, I’m a very happy and bubbly person, but when it comes to religiously musical experiences, the experiences that move me the most in this area are the quietly reverent ones. You know, your stereotypical white, European, religious, musical experience. Plus, I had a feeling that my fiancée, his mother and I would probably be some of the only non-African Americans there. Not that that is bad, but it is a little bit intimidating. I didn’t ever grow up in areas that had a lot of African Americans (Boise, Salt Lake City, New Hampshire, Tucson, etc.), so I never really experienced the African American culture until I came to college. Since then, some of my best friends have been of African American Heritage. And so, upon reading this ad in the newspaper, the impressions and “stereotypes” I’ve created from both the . . .
Lastly, this event reminded me to be careful of misinterpretations toward other cultures. This would be good to remember when dealing with students and families from foreign countries. It is such a humbling and perspective placing experience and it will help me better relate to children in my classroom someday who might be brand new to America. This is good to both remember and to teach to my students someday. As if taken out of some satiric television comedy, I could just picture myself timidly sitting there while everyone around me was dancing and clapping and tossing me evil glares for being so “white. Again, very different from the types of performances I’m used to going to, but very friendly! Reflection While I approached this event with apprehension, I am very glad that I was “dragged” along. Once we had our tickets we were ushered into the intimate theater and found our seats near the back. It’s not just to enrich the experience of the “white” children, but it’s to remind those of different cultures that it’s okay not to “fit in. Keeping my feelings to myself though, I decided to heed the advice that I know my mother would give me were she there—“Buck up Hilary! Take this as an educational experience! With an open mind and heart, you can get wonderful things out of every experience!” With this in mind, I approached the event with a mixture of shy dread and curios excitement. se friends and from television, began to paint for me a picture of what I was sure was going to happen. This gave me an opportunity to examine my surroundings. My reaction to the director’s welcome was almost one of offense. Along these lines, it also surprised me what my reaction to this situation was. I can only imagine that this is how children from minority cultures must feel when surrounded by their peers at school. In ways I liked the familiarity and comfortableness of it, but in ways I felt like it made me loose a little bit of respect for the following performance.
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