This is an insight, into my life.....

I wander, a stranger in a strange land, filled with the music of a strange language as I’m bombarded with strange smells.  I buy food and items that I can’t read.  I try my best to learn and not just arrogantly expect to be understood since I speak English.  It’s hard.  It’s scary.  It’s uncomfortable.  It’s, at times, frustrating, but it’s home.  At least, we are trying to make it a home.  Part of that is accepting that it will be strange, scary, frustrating, unusual, and unknown.

I’ve experienced racism.

Not to compare my white privilege to ANYTHING that has been experienced for millennia uncounted by indigenous and brown skinned people.  

And I’ve used the defense mechanism of laughing it off.  I’ve joked that I or we got a farang special.  Farang is the local word for white folks.  The history of the word is muddled, as some will claim it comes from Franks, like the Franco Tribes, going back to 3rd century German tribes that were known to wander.  From what I’ve read, there is no historical support for this.  No artifacts, clothing, writing, or otherwise to support, outside of very very loose connections based on the Silk Road and Spice Trade of early recorded history.  I’ve read it comes from franc, from the French and the French colonization of Vietnam, but again, loose connections.  Lastly it originally meant, in 13th century Thai, white bird droppings.  White shit.  There are a LOT of historical and linguistic connections supporting this, but nothing official.  However, when your subcontinent is being ravaged by invaders and colonizers and then globalization and a new world and economy post WW2, you might lose some of your trade and tourists if it’s commonly known that you call those visitors “white shit”, but I’ve always taken farang in a pejorative context.

I was told that I needed an RX for some meds at a pharmacy, only to have my doc laugh yesterday and tell me, No.  You can just buy.  Maybe because no Thai.  Next time, tell yes and paying baht.  Tell Pharmacist that you know and need and it’s 20 baht and he will give you.

I’ve ordered food that I know is spicy, only to get some half assed bland version.

I’ve been helped last or ignored in stores or shops.

I’m sure I could let my fingers run and list instance after instance, but I won’t.  I want to scream to the heavens.  I want to rage.  I want to cry.

This, in no way, is meant to make me come off perfect.  I’ve got prejudices as well.  I’ve worked in food service, I’ve worked in a cafe and a bar, cooked, waited tables.  I’ve worked in sales.  Concierge services.  Purchasing.  Medicine and pharmacy.  And in each case, I know I’ve looked at people or groups and made assumptions.  Indians and Asians don’t tip.  Drunken Frat assholes who string order and don’t tip.  Great, another boat with its asshole crew that we’re gonna need to babysit for the next month.  Old man with an inhaler… Great!

Because any job is gonna have its bad.  Any public facing job especially.  Because I’ve been screamed at, chewed out, dined and dashed on by all types and colors of people.  

There is no age, race, sex or gender, or religion that I’ve avoided or worked against based on my own color, sex, religion, etc.  

I don’t get it.  Because, yes.  Asians and Indians don’t tip, generally.  But I had some really nice families and couples at my tables or counter while in food service and bar/cafe.  I also lived with and dated (even asked her to marry me) an Indian woman.  A Hindi.  A Jew.  A Muslim.  Black, Asian, Hispanic, Latina, Older, Younger, richer, poorer, and a million other in between.  

We, as a white family, moved to a place that we would stick out.  We are the minority.  We are the outsiders.  We are the strangers.  

We’ve come to learn, see, experience, and give ourselves and our child an understanding and an awareness.  We also came for money.  There is no secret that we are paid well (better than average and significantly more than America once cost of living, cost of goods, etc are factored in) and that we want to earn and save more.  We also didn’t feel safe or secure in America…. And we lived in a “liberal” area.

I don’t get why we hate or reject people who are trying to make better for themselves and their families, for their futures.  

I don’t get why people look at invisible lines that we put on paper called maps and hate based on that.  Ukrainian people were and are descendants of the same people that made up the USSR, but not, those same people are fighting and the Russians look at the people of Ukraine and call them dirty, call them swine, call them less.  

Familial and DNA records show that a large portion of Pakistani people are literally cousins to their Indian counterparts and one wrong word would start a massive war.  Indians use the word Paki as slur.  

I don’t get it.

People are people, to steal from Depeche Mode.

And to my American folks, especially those conservatives.  Most of y’all believe in God and Jesus.  Treat others as you wish to be treated.  Golden rule.  Matthew 7:12 in your King James Bible.

This isn’t hard.

Just be decent.  Or, to again steal… this time from my friends Bill S Preston and Ted Logan, Be Excellent to each other.

I was given the wrong change in the market today.  Way too much.  It took me almost 3 minutes to correct this, but I took the time to make it right.  Because if I was running my own little market stand, I’d hate someone to take advantage of me.  Or even to not correct my mistake because the language would be difficult.  

I’ve said before that I’m not keeping score, that’s Karma’s job.

And I believe that.  In the same way I believe in Santa and the Christmas Spirit.  The same way I believe in ghosts.  The same way I believe in spirits.  A sense of a force or thing or being or collection of energy that can briefly interact and effect.  It’s vague.  But real.  At least to me.

I’ve got bad karma on me.  I’ve done bad things.  But I can’t undo those things.  I can learn from them and move past them.  That is karma (to my belief system) as well.  So, borrow my hammer, but pay me back with a bag of oranges because you saw them and knew I wanted oranges.  I helped you move a desk from one room to another, but you loaned me your soup pot to cook with.  It’s not keeping score.  It’s karma figuring it all out.

Stop taking.  Stop hating.  Stop ignoring.  Accept.  Enjoy.  Experience.  Try.

One day we all will die.  I’m yet to meet an immortal.  So, what do you gain, what do ANY of us gain, in your hate and racism?  In your greed?  In your close mindedness?  That hurts us all.  That causes the divides.

Open your eyes to people.  ALL people.  Just accept.  Enjoy.  Experience.  Because I love this experience.  Even in its frustrations and difficulties.  Because I can see and experience more.  Smell and hear and see and feel different things, new things, things that aren’t in my home country that are unique.  Put your white crayon back and experience ALL the colors.  Because the worst thing that will happen is you are uncomfortable, but in 99 out of 100 cases, that discomfort will turn into an experience and you will be better for that.  Trust me…. I’m literally living that truth.

So, let’s go, Kiddo.  Pool time.  In Thailand.  This is our one shot at life.  Let’s enjoy!