Looking back, moving forward

When I stepped back into life in Texas, the first thing that greeted me was an overwhelming wave of heat. I was in a bit of a daze as I walked off the plane to head back home, but after almost four months (and the conclusion of my hectic fall semester) I’ve had plenty of time to think about the changes I've noticed my daily life since the conclusion of my time in Germany.

I would have to say that my most profound change has been in empathy. As someone who took pride in being an “ENTJ” in the Myers-Briggs test, I assumed it was part of my nature to make quick, detached conclusions and then move on. This month-long trip reminded me that being detached is not always a good thing. As unrest continues to unfold in the Middle East, especially in Syria, I can’t just look at the casualties as numbers. These are people, those who have died and those who have seen it. I can’t imagine having to write what may be my “final” letter for all of my friends and family who are out of harm’s way. I can’t understand how a man had the courage to bring joy by dressing as a clown in a place otherwise filled with horror, or why he had to lose his life in the process. This isn’t something I can read, then file away to memory without sorrow.

And there are things happening here in America, too. With the incoming presidency of Donald Trump, a small supremacist demographic was emboldened—they saw the man who validated their own views being supported by almost half of America. With his presidency, they saw a future for “white Americans.” At Texas A&M, one such speaker was invited by an outsider (much to the dismay of the University and its students). In his ideology, he spoke of a future so similar to that of early Hitler it made me cringe. The group defends itself by declaring that all races are equal, but simply belong in their own respective nations. Surely they recall that Nazis originally intended to remove non Aryan races from Germany by simply pushing them out into other countries? But if they did, they’d realize the futility of this is what encouraged the act of genocide that was the Holocaust. This group does not fill me with anger, but rather sadness. Surely encountering diversity without prior hostility (and with an open mind) could cure the nativism they feel? It makes me wonder what would have happened if they had gone on a study-abroad like the one I experienced. I’d hope that most of them would be converted with the first döner kebab (seriously, those are delicious), but with time I feel the experience of living abroad would wash away the fear of even the most narrow-minded.

Living as an outsider is a fragile existence. Even when I had my own money available, I was still dependent on others for guidance. Without Google Translate, I know I would have had an even tougher time. And not everyone has the benefit of a smartphone with such technology. When I worked as a cashier, I frequently encountered strangers looking for help understanding the English labeling. I’m embarrassed to recall that while I always helped, I sometimes internally scoffed at them. As I muttered the few German words I knew, whether trying to get meals or purchase household items, I recalled the simple exchanges I had back at home with those who primarily spoke Spanish. This vulnerable position was uncomfortable, but gave me an important perspective.

My trip to Germany was great because of the food, cultural experiences, and connections I was able to make with the locals. But it was unforgettable because it drastically opened my perspective. To everyone who asks, I’ll always highly recommend going abroad; the experiences are incredible, but the impact of living out there will never fade.