Great day to blog

Today feels like a great day to blog. I am back from my first Saturday class, and there's a bit of time before we go out for a quick dinner. CG and I have agreed that we have other chores to do today, so we're just going to cut out cooking and doing dishes by eating out.

Seems like some time has passed since I last blogged. Ever since classes started on 2nd March, it has gotten increasingly difficult to balance between school work, household chores and play. People would say that school work definitely takes priority, but I have this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that if I let household chores slide too much, I'm not going to be happy either. So I end up trying to do a bit of everything, but end up not accomplishing anything. Sigh. I have never been very good at managing my time, so this is a real challenge.

More than anything else, having to deal with "in your face" racism and discrimination over here is really difficult. I have been reflecting on what my boss said before I left for my studies, which is that back home, I belong to the majority racial group and so maybe will find it hard to adjust to being in the minority group.

Frankly, it's not just about being in the minority group. Here, I feel like an outsider, looking in and not understanding what may be going on inside people's heads as they look at me, someone of a different skin colour. If that's not already bad enough, the people (e.g., teachers) whom you thought you could look to for support are the very people who tell you that your English is not good enough, your accent may not be understandable, etc. Nothing wrong with that, since being in the helping profession means that you need to be understood before you can be a good helper. But interestingly, it still stings.

Why? Because I had gone to good schools back home and nobody said anything about my poor English. In fact, I got decent grades for my English literature essays. I pride myself on having a better than average standard of English back home.

Oh well. I'm none the worse for it, except that my ego's bruised--I'll survive. But the tension between trying to speak properly so that you can be understood, and the worry that you are being judged by people from home for 'putting on an accent' that's unauthentic... now THAT can be overwhelming.

Oh dear. Now I sound like I'm crazily homesick. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I'm not really homesick. I do miss home, especially family and friends, but more than anything else, I miss not having to constantly reflect on my cultural identity or defend it.

I guess it's only when you're away from home that you truly start thinking about who you are, and who you are not.