In my last post, I explored a lost opportunity that I had to cross an American dividing line.
We all know about famous heroes who recognized opportunities for transcendence and reached across dividing lines to advance humanity's humanity. Figures like Martin Luther King, Jr., Nelson Mandela, and Abraham Lincoln.
The problem is, these people are enshrined in popular culture more as legends than as humans. As a result, many people don't consider themselves capable of acting on that level of transcendence. So today I'm posting about a regular, non-legendary person who reached out across an American dividing line and advanced the human race.
The woman in this picture is Elsa Caetano Kossa, who lives in Madison, Wisconsin. We met her on our midwestern road trip, and she invited us to dinner at her house even though we all had just met. That tells you something about what kind of person she is. She's a teacher, a chicken-raiser, an artist, and a mother of two, among many other things. She immigrated to the US from Mozambique in 2000, after meeting and falling in love with an American man, Bill, who was traveling there.
The American man was white-skinned, and when his grandfather, Albert, learned that his grandson was planning to marry a brown-skinned African woman, Albert threatened to disown Bill.
Elsa's response was to step in. She reached out to Albert, spending time with him and getting to know him, and did not give up. And so when Elsa and Bill decided to get a divorce, well, it turns out that Albert wrote a testimonial letter to the judge...in support of Elsa.
No one except for Elsa and Albert can know exactly what their conversations and exchanges were. These are a beautiful mystery to us. What we can know is that these two people, despite all the American dynamics working against them, connected across lines and were changed by each other.
What courage, for Elsa to stick with Albert, who had been marinaded in American racism.
What courage, for Albert to remain open, at 83 years old, to altering his beliefs about race that had been cooked into him in his culture since childhood.
Elsa told me that Albert once revealed to her that his greatest fear about his grandson's marriage was the judgment of white-skinned peers in his community. This is a powerful reminder that racist words and actions cannot be dismissed as something "wrong with a person." Racism is a sickness in our society and we individuals show the symptoms.
But as Albert and Elsa show us, people can change with conscious effort and an insistence on finding the humanity and love inside of all people.
Here are two heroes!
P.S. Upon me asking her if I could share this post with the world, Elsa shared with me this closing thought:
I was actually having a memory about Albert this morning. It was about the last time I saw him, two days before his passing. I know I should celebrate his life and be thankful to have been part of his life. I am thankful, very thankful, but I have this sense of guilt that sits with me ever since the last day I saw him. I keep thinking that I could have stayed with him longer;
I should have been not afraid of the affection he was sharing with me, instead, I should have reciprocated and be in that moment vs refusing to acknowledge that that might have been the last time I would touch his warm hands.
We all know about famous heroes who recognized opportunities for transcendence and reached across dividing lines to advance humanity's humanity. Figures like Martin Luther King, Jr., Nelson Mandela, and Abraham Lincoln.
The problem is, these people are enshrined in popular culture more as legends than as humans. As a result, many people don't consider themselves capable of acting on that level of transcendence. So today I'm posting about a regular, non-legendary person who reached out across an American dividing line and advanced the human race.
The woman in this picture is Elsa Caetano Kossa, who lives in Madison, Wisconsin. We met her on our midwestern road trip, and she invited us to dinner at her house even though we all had just met. That tells you something about what kind of person she is. She's a teacher, a chicken-raiser, an artist, and a mother of two, among many other things. She immigrated to the US from Mozambique in 2000, after meeting and falling in love with an American man, Bill, who was traveling there.
The American man was white-skinned, and when his grandfather, Albert, learned that his grandson was planning to marry a brown-skinned African woman, Albert threatened to disown Bill.
Elsa's response was to step in. She reached out to Albert, spending time with him and getting to know him, and did not give up. And so when Elsa and Bill decided to get a divorce, well, it turns out that Albert wrote a testimonial letter to the judge...in support of Elsa.
No one except for Elsa and Albert can know exactly what their conversations and exchanges were. These are a beautiful mystery to us. What we can know is that these two people, despite all the American dynamics working against them, connected across lines and were changed by each other.
What courage, for Elsa to stick with Albert, who had been marinaded in American racism.
What courage, for Albert to remain open, at 83 years old, to altering his beliefs about race that had been cooked into him in his culture since childhood.
Elsa told me that Albert once revealed to her that his greatest fear about his grandson's marriage was the judgment of white-skinned peers in his community. This is a powerful reminder that racist words and actions cannot be dismissed as something "wrong with a person." Racism is a sickness in our society and we individuals show the symptoms.
But as Albert and Elsa show us, people can change with conscious effort and an insistence on finding the humanity and love inside of all people.
Here are two heroes!
P.S. Upon me asking her if I could share this post with the world, Elsa shared with me this closing thought:
I was actually having a memory about Albert this morning. It was about the last time I saw him, two days before his passing. I know I should celebrate his life and be thankful to have been part of his life. I am thankful, very thankful, but I have this sense of guilt that sits with me ever since the last day I saw him. I keep thinking that I could have stayed with him longer;
I should have been not afraid of the affection he was sharing with me, instead, I should have reciprocated and be in that moment vs refusing to acknowledge that that might have been the last time I would touch his warm hands.