Multicultural – a word that represents the country I see every day. If your birth certificate states you were born within the boundaries of the United States of America, you are an American. Merriam-Webster definition of multicultural:
mul·ti·cul·tur·al
: of, relating to, reflecting, or adapted to diverse cultures
We all should be proud of our cultural heritage and diversity it graces us with. Here is a list of a few titles given for us to check on important forms: African American, Hispanic, Asian American, Native American, white, and other. I am sure there are more I cannot think of at the moment. Now if I choose to check one of these it normally would be “white.” However, I have a cultural heritage too. I have often been tempted to check “other” and write in multicultural.
Let me play “devil’s advocate” here. Shouldn’t I be allowed the right to represent my heritage? I am one half German, one quarter Italian, one eighth Irish, and my last quarter combines English, Dutch, and French. I am seen as “white.” Because of the color of my skin, the fact that my family history contains many European immigrants is nonexistent on important forms.
The reason I thought about this seriously again was because of a conversation last night at the pie pantry where I work part-time. This political season brings out so many issues. I work with a combination of “whites” and Hispanics. One of the Hispanic cooks started asking about being American, but he really meant heritage. He would tell people who had European heritage they weren’t American. He likes to stir things. I understand that he by many is not seen as American. They see his skin color and prejudice kicks in before knowing him. However, I was forced to put my two cents in. For me it is as simple as what your birth certificate says. If you’re born in the USA, you’re American and that’s what I said. Most people at the pantry are American no matter their cultural heritage. So, I told him I am American (a citizen of the USA) with a multicultural heritage. He agreed with that with little convincing.
If we could just see Americans when we look around us. We all have a cultural history and are defined by more than the color of our skin. And, setting skin color aside, aren’t most of us in USA multicultural. So, when deciding who to vote for, look for the ones who see Americans and not race and skin colors.
My poetry has been my therapy over the years. In 1993, an unusual traumatic event occurred with me. Poetry over the years has been my sorting out process. I have always had a strong spiritual nature balanced by strong doubt. During period of tremendous confusion, my poetry (sometimes more like stories my son thinks) helped me remember who I am, how I feel, and what I think and always have from a child. The theme I hope comes through is that we should not have our heads too far into the clouds or too deeply into the dirt. Life lives as balance somewhere in the middle with little visits to both edges. All 56 years of my life I have lived in Michigan. I was born in Kalamazoo September 16, 1958. My parents separated when I was young do to my mother’s mental illness. Dad died in 1965 at 29 from a cerebral hemorrhage. I was 6 when he passed. Grandma Peggy (my dad’s mother) went to court 7 times in a year and a half to fight for my younger sister (Kim who was mentally impaired) and me, because my dad had asked her too. She won custody of us. So, I lived with her in Bangor, Michigan through high school and college. I didn’t begin to write poetry until I went to live with my aunt (my mother’s sister) in Wartervliet, Michigan while attending Lake Michigan College in Benton Harbor. My aunt lived near my mother and her mother (my Grandma Elsie). After 2 years there, I attended Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. I graduated with a Bachelor of Arts major in English and minor in Elementary Education. Right out of college fall of 1984 I was hired at St. Mary’s in Paw Paw, Michigan as a kindergarten teacher. I taught kindergarten for 1 year half days and was moved into a full-time first grade position for three years. I met my husband Gary during that time. On October 17, 1987, we married and I moved to Fennville, Michigan where I still live. Gary and I have a son age 24 and a daughter age 19.
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