What does it mean Being?

The question of belonging has come to the attention of the public discourse as it pertains to the immigration status of birth rite citizenship and the deportation of brown and black people. This issue is seemingly to boil down to the simple fact that brown and black people who are born here are not welcome anymore, and begs the question were we ever welcome?

 As a Motherist the thought of having a child or children not welcomed in a society in which they are born into is bothersome at best. What does it mean to belong in America my birthplace, home of the free? I am reflecting a lot on “BEing”. I define BEing as the right to exist, existence as fully human and equal to any other human.  BEing macerated itself into my psyche as I reflect on the 4th of July, the military birthday parade, on the heels of Juneteenth. What does all this mean?

What does it mean when so many our being deported, abused, and there is the possibility of being used as food for alligators in this dystopian world America is ushering in.

What I know for sure if you are not indigenous to this land you are an immigrant or a product of immigration or forced slavery. The generations birthed afterwards are products of fortitude, resilience, courage, agency, and love that have triumphed. Some prospered due to ethnic identity as opposed to others but neither the less forged on. The product of this forging is a culture that is the envy of the world where there is a community for everyone and belonging took hundreds of years for many. And yes, there is cross pollination in these communites.

As I think about this thing called BElonging, I can’t help but smile. I’m sitting in an Asian-owned nail salon, where the technicians are mostly Thai or Vietnamese. The salon is in a mall located in an historic Black neighborhood, filled with African-American women and transgender people. Looking around, I notice how these Asian technicians, many of them likely the children of immigrants, many are the products of ethnic intermingling. They move so fluidly in this space. I wonder: What does BElonging feel like for them in America?

My nail technician and I begin talking as his head sways to the beat of hip-hop—a sound rooted in African-American culture. Behind me, another technician jokes with a client about a young Asian guy at a club and his 23-year-old escapades. The young 23 year old man trying to sweet talk with coolness a young Black woman sitting in one of the salon chairs. My technician chuckles, then leans toward me and says, “He’s so young, only 23—no responsibilities.” I laugh and think to myself: isn’t that how most 23-year-olds are across America?

As my stomach growls, my mind drifts to what I’ll eat later—Mexican, Jamaican, Haitian, African? Another one of those moments that makes me reflect: Make America great? Or is this what truly makes America great our collective sense of BEing?

To me, it’s these moments of cultural crossover—the ability to step beyond the culture we were born into and experience another, even if only through a meal or music. That richness, that diversity, is what makes America beautiful and great.

The sadness is knowing that some people will never experience this, trapped by their own limitedness and fear of difference. They will never taste the real essence of this so-called land of the free—a land built on the sweat, tears, and bondage of those who came across the Atlantic as slaves and immigrants.

BEing and BElonging matters! And despite what anyone says or feels, we all belong here, each of us adding to this complex, beautiful mosaic that is America.