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Hey, Kind Friends,
I can’t stop thinking about an interaction I had last week and I thought I’d share it with you. I’d really love your thoughts.
Forty or so years ago I was a tour guide at Universal Studios in Hollywood. One of the first lessons during training was how to chat and banter with your guests, as there were a lot of instances of waiting during the tour. Trams would get backed up waiting for the Red Sea to part or waiting to enter the giant soundstage where an enormous King Kong would blow banana scented breath all over us, waiting for the group to rejoin the tram after touring a sound stage and such. LOTS of waiting. And our job as tour guides was to keep even the down times entertaining and informative.
When I’d exhausted my knowledge of the ins and out of the Psycho House or the many (too many) Jaws sequels, or the genius of famed costumer Edith Head, I would often ask folks where they were from, and if they would teach me how to say things in their language. I learned how to say hello and thank you in so many different languages. Ni hao was the first one I remember learning. No doubt there were also some secret expletives taught to me, disguised as innocuous terms. It was one of the best summers of my life.
ANYhow…
A few days ago, I was at the mall trying on jeans (ugh.) On the way out I decided to get some dinner to take home and stopped at Yummy Teriyaki in the food court. The tiny, smiley woman at the counter took my order and called it back to a coworker in what I thought was Chinese, but I wasn’t sure. As she handed me my drink, I asked what language she was speaking.
She didn’t meet my eyes when she replied “Chinese.” She looked almost fearful. “How do I say ‘Thank you’ in Chinese” I asked her. She looked at me for a moment. “Thank you?” she asked. I nodded. “Xie xie,’ she replied. It took me a couple of tries to get it close enough to accurate to be understandable. This precious woman lit up. She turned to her coworkers and said something, and they all looked at me. I felt like a weirdo so I kind of waved a little wave and said “Xie xie!”
As I waited for my food she kept smiling and saying to herself “Xie xie” and sort of shaking her head.
I thought about it most of the way home.
Of course she appeared frightened at first. She is living in a country where a small, loud, ugly group of folks get pretty riled up when they hear someone speaking a language other than English.
I wonder about her as I sit this morning in my privilege. I wonder how many times people in public look at her with disdain when they hear her speak Chinese. Has she been told to go back to her own country? Have people used her thick accent as a reason to attack her verbally? Her voice was so tiny and quiet, and it occurs to me that that may be a subconscious safety measure. It all made me so sad.
Imagine being in a place where folks demonize you for simply speaking. For the accent you carry after learning a whole other language. For daring to exist in a country other than the one into which you were born.
My plan from here forward is this: any time I hear folks speaking a different language in public (as long as it’s not wildly awkward – I do have some social graces for heaven’s sake,) I’m going to approach them and ask if they’d teach me to say “Thank you” in their language. If they’re speaking Spanish, I can carry on a little bit of a conversation, even if it’s just to say I like their shoes, or they have a great smile.
Wouldn’t it be great if people whose first language isn’t English could feel valued for that very reason… that they have something to teach us? That rather than being a drawback, their first language is a gift? That their very presence here is a gift?
Have you had similar experiences? What are some ideas you have for helping marginalized folks feel safer in public spaces? Do you live in a diverse area where you hear the gorgeous symphony of other languages often? Do you speak more than one language? I would love to hear all about all of it!