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Best of times, Worst of times

This past year has been such a strange one. While everyone was posting memes about how 2016 was the WORST, I actually felt like it was one of the best years ever for me. Holly came into our lives, we bought a house, and I found work I love. Things have fallen into place better than I could have imagined. I'm living the American dream, and it feels really good.

But then I look outward and things seem to be crumbling. Like many, I read the news every day just shaking my head, wondering what has become of this country and how much more his supporters and political party will tolerate before they say unequivocally: THIS IS NOT US. He has shown himself to have no self-control, no governing experience, no regard for the rights of American people. Some days I want to throw my hands up and give up on understanding. Right now it's really hard to be proud to be an American. 

My bad-ass STEM mom
But I do love this country. I owe my whole existence to Americans who accepted refugees into their neighborhoods, schools, and workplaces. As Vietnamese refugees in the late 1970s, my parents came to Oregon and were welcomed by the local community. Members of a church in town sponsored them and the congregation gave them furniture and hand-me-downs to start their life. This is not to say they did not face racism and xenophobia. They did, and still do today. But it was not their defining experience. My parents went to college, and were encouraged to join the then-budding field of computer technology. My mom has spent over 35 years at the same company that initially hired her, even though she couldn't speak English well at the time. Her hard work and diligent saving sent my sister and me to college. I'm not going to lie; it also helped fund the house we just bought. This house will raise a bright, beautiful new life, full of opportunity. The legacy of a government and community's decision to embrace newcomers will go on and on. In my humble assessment, the investment paid off. 

So every time I hear rhetoric of immigrants draining the system, threatening the social fabric, or being incapable of loyalty to this country, it feels personal. It makes me mad. Being American has nothing to do with being White, believing in Jesus, or being born within these borders. My family is living proof, and we are not the exception. (Don't even try to come at with that model minority BS...) 

I'm thankful and heartened that people are speaking out, organizing, making calls, and staying engaged (and enraged). I'm struggling to find a voice in all this. We all must find a way forward though. I'm going to keep plugging away in my own community to ensure that people feel safe, heard, and included. I am fortunate to do that every day through my paid work, supporting equity and representation for people with mental health and substance use challenges. I will continue volunteering and fundraising for the Y, because they provide a healthy space for youth, families, and individuals, regardless of background or ability to pay. I will keep being a good, compassionate person. I will not accept this new "normal". 

Most importantly, I will never take what I have for granted. I will keep living my dream. It's what we ALL deserve to do. 

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