Caitlin Arnold

7/5/2014
Comm 2150

Cultural Intersections and Differences

I grew up in a suburb of Columbus, Ohio called Reynoldsburg. I went to school at
Herbert Mills Elementary School. I am white, but that was not the majority of the ethnic groups.
In fact, it was pretty even split between the black and white races. When I was in the third grade,
I remember we had a school wide competition to create the artwork for our yearbook. Everyone
in class took their time to carefully draw what they felt was a cool cover. Everyone wanted their
artwork to be showcased, so theyd be the envy of the entire school.
As I started drawing my picture, doing what I thought was normal, a girl in class, named
Victoria, noticed my drawing and said, Why arent there any black people in your drawing?!
What? I replied.
You dont have any black people in your drawing, YOURE A RACIST! in front of the
whole class. Everyone turned to look at me.
What does that mean? I asked, legitimately nave.
Racist? She asked me. It means you hate black people.
What? No I dont.
It was then that my other friend Trent leaned over to me and said, Just draw a couple of
black people and youll be okay.
So I did as Trent told and, obviously, that meant that I was no longer racist. I was really
confused for a while. I kept thinking why would someone think I hate black people? It bothered
me that someone thought that of me. I had friends who were black, but I had never thought about
it before. I also had never thought about drawing black people in my drawings before. Did that
make me racist? It was a turning point in my life. Every time, I do something in regards to
expressing myself, I always in the back of my mind have to question if it was racist of me to say
that or not.
It affected how I saw other people as well. Were they racist? Am I still friends with them
if they are or not? This came up a couple years later when I had to decide what I would do when
I thought that what someone said or did was racist. A friend in the neighborhood - her name was
Brooke - was over at my house and we were outside talking when she noticed a black family had
moved in to the house across the street.
Oh God... she said.
What? I replied as I looked over where she was looking.
Those people
What about them?
Theyre black.
And
Theyre going to be loud, party animals. she said with a sneer on her face.
What? Why do you think that?
Thats just how they are.
Brooke, thats really racist. Thats really messed up
Its not racist if its true!
No, thats really racist; I dont want to even talk to you right now. You should go
home. I got up and left her there on the sidewalk.
That first experience in school made me feel guilty and self-conscious about my actions
and motives and still has an effect on me today. After the altercation with Brooke, I realized that
Caitlin Arnold
7/5/2014
Comm 2150

I never want to sound like her or think like her. When I moved to California a couple years later,
it was a bit of a culture shock. There were less white and black people than what I was used to
and the majority was Latino people. This threw me a little off. I didnt expect to be so out of the
cultural loop.
I was comfortable with white and black people and on my first day of school made
friends with a black girl and not many others. I was constantly hearing the Spanish language and
automatically assumed they were talking about me. It hurt my feelings. Later I realized that
maybe sometimes that was true but mostly it wasnt. Why would they constantly talk about me?
I had to get over myself. There was an adjustment period to it though. Eventually you didnt
even acknowledge that Spanish was being spoken and if it was, who cares? It did, however,
make me want to pick up Spanish so that Id be able to understand what was being said.
In high school, I was fully integrated into the Southern California culture. I was
completely comfortable with everyone around me, whatever race they may be and what ever
language they were speaking. That is when I met my best friend, Krissy. She is Filipino. I
remember hearing her speak to her father on her cell phone in Tagalog for the first time. It was
really fascinating to me. I asked her about it and we kept talking and became really close friends.
When I went over to her house for the first time, I noticed several different things about
her house. She has a red door, which isnt abnormal, but in the Filipino culture it stands for luck.
On the door is a Catholic saint, with a bible reference on it, but I cannot remember which Saint
and which bible reference, but I think it was the Saint of Protection. I walk inside, and the house
is painted a gold/marigold color. There are plants and glass cases filled with little glass
elephants, which are her mothers favorites. They also have a small "liquid motion" toy; one of
those small fountains that always keeps the water flowing, this also stands for luck and
tranquility. I even remember seeing, what I thought was a wind chime. It was red silk string with
what looked like gold coins tied to the end of it. This, too, is a Filipino symbol for luck and
prosperity.
Years later after her mother had passed away, she told me that in the Filipino culture, its
customary to not wear red one year after the loved one passes away. It is a sign of mourning.
Much like way back when, after a womans husband passed away, women were culturally
expected to wear black for a year to show that they were in mourning. I think the lack of wearing
red is more of a personal choice. In all reality, no one outside of close families and friends would
know if you were mourning or not. So if someone whos loved passed away, wore red before the
year was over, no one except for their family would know it. Whereas if someone lost their
husband circa 1865, and did not wear black, everyone in their town would know that she wasnt
honoring her husbands passing.
A favorite cultural experience of mine was probably when the same Filipino friend
started eating with her fingers when we were at her house. I wasnt disgusted by this, but I was
curious. I think she saw the curiosity on my face and explained herself. "My Dad used to yell at
me for eating with utensils." She told me. This was a pretty reversed way of thinking for me,
because my childhood was the exact opposite. Every time I ate with my hands Id get yelled at.
Id joked at the thought of when, at the same time I was eating with my hands, and my Dad
would correct me, her Dad was doing the same thing for opposite reasons.
My group of friends is probably one of the most diverse groups of people you have ever
seen. We have 3 Latinas, 1 Filipina, 1 Indian, 1 African-American male, 1 Mexican-Italian, and
me, the only white girl in the group. This makes for interesting and sometimes difficult pictures.
Caitlin Arnold
7/5/2014
Comm 2150

For example, if I were to stand next to my African-American friend in a picture, he would wash
me out, and Id make him appear darker than he is, this makes us both look invisible. We both
acknowledge that this ruins the picture so we have to stand on opposite sides of the group. Its
pretty funny, but it still reaffirms my insecurities about my skin color.
Id love to be able to go to the beach and tan with my other friends. The one time I tried,
a group of guys walked by and I thought I heard one of them describe me as sour cream. I am
fully aware of the fact that if I go out in the sun without sunscreen no matter what kind of day it
is, I will probably get sunburned which will probably manifest as skin cancer later on in my adult
life, if it hasnt already. In fact, one time I got sunburned so bad, I got Sun-Poisoning. When I
told that to my Filipina friend, her jaw dropped.
WHAT?!
Yeah, sun-poisoning. I felt really sick and nauseous.
Wait! What?! The SUN TRIED TO KILL YOU?!
I laughed, Yeah, kind of.
THE SUN. TRIED. TO KILL YOU!
Yep. I confirmed. She honestly could not believe that that happened to me and that
Sun-Poisoning exists. I still think it surprises her when I bring it up.
What I learned from these experiences was that I never thought about the differences
between one person or another. Before that day in the classroom, my only concern was what I
was going to do at recess that day. Having that pointed out to me affected the way I thought
about what I say or do on a daily basis. Still to this day, I question my motives behind my
actions. I ask myself if I did something in favor of a different race because I was trying not to be
racist instead of actually not being racist.
I am constantly aware of what makes me different to other races because of the friends I
hang out with. I am white. Not just white, but Northern-European white, Irish- white, the kind of
pasty white that blinds others when I walk outside. As much as being this pale bothers me,
theres nothing I can do about it, just like there is nothing anyone can do about any other type of
skin color they have. Its neither a bad or good thing to be snow-white, or as black as coal. Its
simply genetics. Thats the conclusion I came to in my teenage years. After all of my experiences
with differences in race and culture, theres nothing anyone can do about it, so we might as well
experience as much of it as we can. Find out what we like and dont like in different cultures and
not worry about whether disliking something makes us racist.
I love Mexican food. I could eat it 24 hours a day seven days a week if I could. I love
how in many Asian cultures, you must take off your shoes as a sign of respect when entering a
home. I think that keeps things nice and clean. I love many African tribes that share the
responsibilities of raising the children, spawning the phrase, it takes a village. I think that by
picking out different aspects of different cultures helps us to respect all cultures, and in turn
respect all people.