Are you an included one or are you an excluded one? I have this sad feeling you are one of the excluded. So we shall never meet because I am so included I am brimming with it. Too bad. I’m sure you’re nice and good and kind but I fear you’re a loser. Excluded from everything. Poor dear.
Whenever I feel unliked, I remind myself that excluded is only two letters away from being secluded. And then I go cry in the corner and eat a gallon of Ben & Jerrys.
Abraham Mulst
Living in Uganda as an American, I feel excluded from many things. I am white; they are black. I am rich; they are poor. I wear pants; they wear skirts. I am cold culture; they are warm culture. I try to overcome these exclusions, but they see me a certain way and I cannot change that. We have so many similarities; they far outweigh our differences. However, that is the human condition, to concentrate on those things that we don’t understand and aren’t familiar with. We are friends, we share good times and meals, but I will never fit in completely. I will never walk up to the village without being yelled at, “Muzungu” and asked for sweeties. They seem like such small things, but it can be exhausting to be seen as so different from everyone else. It’s exhausting to worry about those that dare to be friends with you, because their community decides that they must be rich to associate with a white person and excludes them based on that. You don’t want to cause problems for your Ugandan friends. You don’t want them to be attacked at night walking home because other villagers assume they have money from always hanging out with you. You want to blend in. You want to spend one day with people seeing you as a person first, as who you are, and not as a skin tone. You want to be treated the same as everyone else. You want to learn and acclimate to the culture. You want to make everyone more comfortable by minimizing the differences. However, you know those differences are what make you, you. Differences are what makes living in this culture and country so incredible and enjoyable. Learning new things and meeting new people who might think differently from you and have backgrounds you never experienced. This is the part that you enjoy the most. Until I came to Uganda I never felt particularly bad for my whiteness. I accepted white privilege and tried to be aware of what that means for my culture back home, but I was happy to be me. Now all I want is to be included. All I want is to spend one day being black to experience Uganda and not be excluded based on what I look like.
Emma
There are moments in my life where I feel this exclusion from life. I hate it. I don’t like to feel excluded from my own thoughts or from other people’s. I want to be involved and I want my presence to mean something to others. If I say something I want it to leave it’s mark and I want to leave a mark myself.
Carly H
She sat on the stiff plastic chair, a child on her lap and another beside her. They babbled on, “Did you see the new Star Wars movie?” and “Is Mulan still your favourite?”, as she tried to answer both questions without casting aside either.
Her eyes quickly found the kind gaze of her Grandmother, who laughed softly at her plight before leaning over to feed each grandchild a chip.
“You two should let your sister breathe a bit, don’t you think?”
“But Grandma! She has to decide which one is better, Star Wars or Mulan!”
“Silly! She already said her favourite was Mulan, weren’t you listening?” The child on her lap nudged the other, “And big sister said that I can watch Mulan and play Panopoly next time I go over!”
“It’s Monopoly. And you can both watch Mulan with me, ok?”
What does it feel like, being excluded? Sitting down all alone by the lake, just watching the cars zoom by. How would you feel, honestly? But, there she is, sitting down all alone on the lush green grass, waiting for summer to arrive. She was wondering to herself, ” Will summer ever find me? Or do I have to look for summer?” All her life has been this way; no friends or family. The roses smiled and nodded at her as a gentle breeze caressed their faces. Probably, that will be her only comforter.
it feels so bad to be excluded. I was excluded quite a bit as a child and it hurts. That has made me very compassionate toward children and wanting to always make sure that they are included and that they feel important and valuable. It is very hard on a child to feel like they just aren’t important enough to be a part of things.
Are you an included one or are you an excluded one? I have this sad feeling you are one of the excluded. So we shall never meet because I am so included I am brimming with it. Too bad. I’m sure you’re nice and good and kind but I fear you’re a loser. Excluded from everything. Poor dear.
I feel | by | so I seek
refuted turpitude fortitude
excluded solitude latitudes
deluded platitudes verisimilitude
Whenever I feel unliked, I remind myself that excluded is only two letters away from being secluded. And then I go cry in the corner and eat a gallon of Ben & Jerrys.
Living in Uganda as an American, I feel excluded from many things. I am white; they are black. I am rich; they are poor. I wear pants; they wear skirts. I am cold culture; they are warm culture. I try to overcome these exclusions, but they see me a certain way and I cannot change that. We have so many similarities; they far outweigh our differences. However, that is the human condition, to concentrate on those things that we don’t understand and aren’t familiar with. We are friends, we share good times and meals, but I will never fit in completely. I will never walk up to the village without being yelled at, “Muzungu” and asked for sweeties. They seem like such small things, but it can be exhausting to be seen as so different from everyone else. It’s exhausting to worry about those that dare to be friends with you, because their community decides that they must be rich to associate with a white person and excludes them based on that. You don’t want to cause problems for your Ugandan friends. You don’t want them to be attacked at night walking home because other villagers assume they have money from always hanging out with you. You want to blend in. You want to spend one day with people seeing you as a person first, as who you are, and not as a skin tone. You want to be treated the same as everyone else. You want to learn and acclimate to the culture. You want to make everyone more comfortable by minimizing the differences. However, you know those differences are what make you, you. Differences are what makes living in this culture and country so incredible and enjoyable. Learning new things and meeting new people who might think differently from you and have backgrounds you never experienced. This is the part that you enjoy the most. Until I came to Uganda I never felt particularly bad for my whiteness. I accepted white privilege and tried to be aware of what that means for my culture back home, but I was happy to be me. Now all I want is to be included. All I want is to spend one day being black to experience Uganda and not be excluded based on what I look like.
There are moments in my life where I feel this exclusion from life. I hate it. I don’t like to feel excluded from my own thoughts or from other people’s. I want to be involved and I want my presence to mean something to others. If I say something I want it to leave it’s mark and I want to leave a mark myself.
She sat on the stiff plastic chair, a child on her lap and another beside her. They babbled on, “Did you see the new Star Wars movie?” and “Is Mulan still your favourite?”, as she tried to answer both questions without casting aside either.
Her eyes quickly found the kind gaze of her Grandmother, who laughed softly at her plight before leaning over to feed each grandchild a chip.
“You two should let your sister breathe a bit, don’t you think?”
“But Grandma! She has to decide which one is better, Star Wars or Mulan!”
“Silly! She already said her favourite was Mulan, weren’t you listening?” The child on her lap nudged the other, “And big sister said that I can watch Mulan and play Panopoly next time I go over!”
“It’s Monopoly. And you can both watch Mulan with me, ok?”
What does it feel like, being excluded? Sitting down all alone by the lake, just watching the cars zoom by. How would you feel, honestly? But, there she is, sitting down all alone on the lush green grass, waiting for summer to arrive. She was wondering to herself, ” Will summer ever find me? Or do I have to look for summer?” All her life has been this way; no friends or family. The roses smiled and nodded at her as a gentle breeze caressed their faces. Probably, that will be her only comforter.
it feels so bad to be excluded. I was excluded quite a bit as a child and it hurts. That has made me very compassionate toward children and wanting to always make sure that they are included and that they feel important and valuable. It is very hard on a child to feel like they just aren’t important enough to be a part of things.