To say or not to say?

Today started out okay, then ended being really rough, then got okay again.

It's the third day of classes, and for the most part I am able to understand when the teachers are speaking to us, minus a few words here and there. In one particular class, Langue en contexte, we are learning soley about French culture then and now and how to use the language in everyday life. The professor began the class asking us about cliches we may have heard about French people, and different comments were made: French people don't shower regularly, they only eat bread and cheese, they hate americans (which I found out is not necessarily true, they mostly hate Bush and dislike americans who come to france and only speak english instead of trying to speak french)etc.

Anyway, a question was burning up inside of me and I just had to ask it. Before I had left, I was told not to tell the french that I was of haitian background but I forgot and was telling everyone that I met where my parents are from. I noticed that after saying so, people started treating me a little differently, but it didn't really register. So I raised my hand, and in my nervousness, spat out the question very rapidly in french: "Is it true that French people do not like Haitians?" My professor, Claire, found it difficult to answer me right away- she bowed her head almost seemingly in a wincing manner and I braced myself for the ugly truth. When she lifted her head up again she said that yes, Haitians are not well-liked, they have a horrible reputation.

I asked her why.

She said that haitians are moochers and don't work hard. The men are seducers and the people as a whole are no-good doers. My whole body went stiff. Are you f***ing kidding me?! I thought in my head ("f" as in flagella of course- sorry folks, I've got to be real with how I felt at the time) I thought about how my mother at the tender age of 17 immigrated to Massachusetts with nothing but a few clothes and a dream. She worked in three different factories, at the same time, risking her life and her health to pay for her education. I thought of my father, determined and loving father who almost died on many occasions because of his failing health, he had worked himself so hard to provide for us. I thought of how my parents came to america with NOTHING to their name and to see them now, Mom, a nurse manager and Dad finishing up his thesis for a doctorate in Psychology. My blood boiled, a combination of anger and sadness (mostly sadness) because coming to France has been my childhood dream. My grandmother always talked to me about my heritage-about how her father was a frenchmen (yes, brown hair & blue eyes- a white man) who took himself a local on the island and voila! she and four other sisters were born. She told me to look for the Beneche name when I got here and that is what I intended to do. Now, quicker than I could blink it was as if that dream was being taken away. I thought about the times as a kid, being chastised for being haitian; in my nieghborhood kids throwing rocks at my sister and I because they couldn't believe that we were haitian. "You guys don't look haitian!" they told us. What the HECK does a haitian look like?! Please, somebody tell me. I am SO SICK of that phrase. I'm so sick of being put down. Just like in every race, culture, creed there are flaws and yes, there are those who prove the stereotypes to be true, but is it necessary to write someone off because of what you've HEARD, not even what you have personally experienced?

Anyway, I fought back the tears the rest of the class period and composed myself until the bell rang. I leaped out of my seat, clamoring for the door desperately,( my eye sight was getting fuzzy), I finally opened the door and was about to leave the building when I remembered I needed to go see Daniela, the director of Ifle to add one more class. I turned around and headed towards her office. As soon as she smiled and very sweetly greeted me, I lost it. I was bawling like baby. She was so understanding as I choked out what had happened and how I was feeling in French. She nodded and explained to me that she was so sorry and that it is unfortunate that there is a prejudice but she told me not to hide who I am. She told me that I shouldn't be ashamed or feel like it was stupid to cry over something like this (I did feel kinda lame) she encouraged me to be proud and to show people the opposite of the sterotypes. I felt so much better. Like I was in grade school again, but still so much better.

I guess what I have learned is that life is definitely a growing experience and I will always be faced with conflict. I have to learn how to take that negative energy and make it positive. Easier said, then done of course but I'll at least try. The rest, I'm leaving up to God.

*****

Later,

I was invited to the gym to play soccer with the boys. I wasn't going to go at first because I wanted to study my french conjugations, but I finally decided to go. It was grand. I think it was God's way of making me forget about everything and just enjoy myself, which I did. Although the day started out a little rough, everything worked out in the end. =)

until next time!