Behind the Veil

Over the course of the last year we've made friends with a lot of our neighbors. It's easy to meet people by just hanging out on the block, and when you share the same space all the time, you eventually get to know people. 

But some are more difficult to be friends with. Usually it's something like fear or misunderstanding that puts a moment of hesitation between you and your neighbor and keeps you from fully interacting with one another. 

There's one family at the end of our block where that was the case. Although the kids from this family are often outside, we saw the parents much less often. We played with their kids regularly, especially their nine-year-old son, the second-oldest of five. Like most kids, he always runs up when we come onto the block. When we did different activities with the kids he, and sometimes his siblings, were there too. So we played ball, painted, chalked up the sidewalk, and read together.

But we didn't let them into our house. Other kids would come in and play on Saturday afternoons, but not the ones from that family. They wanted to so badly, but as a team we decided long ago that we must meet a child's parent and have permission before they can play in our house. And we had never met their parents because they rarely spent time outside.

And when their mom did make an appearance, it was from behind a veil. Something about the veil made it difficult to approach her, especially being known on the block as a "missionary" from the church around the corner.

From the beginning we had a hunch that they Muslim because of their head coverings. Islam is pretty common in Philly, especially in Southwest, so it's not really a big deal to anyone around here, including us. But for some reason the fact that she was Muslim, represented by her veil, made it a little more difficult to approach her. I wondered if my presence was offensive or if she would want to speak to me. Maybe that's why she never comes outside?

 

But one day I did. She was sitting with some of the other women I know, so I greeted them and introduced myself and her. I told her I enjoyed playing with her son, that he was a bright kid with a lot of questions. And after that conversation the veiled face had a name: Ms. T. 

I wasn't the only one initiating a friendship with Ms. T. Nicole, who has much less inhibition than me, had been trying to be friends with her for a while and actually invited her and the family to come to our house for dinner on Saturday. And, to my surprise, they came!

After she got into the house with the door closed behind her, she reached up and removed her veil. For the first time I saw her face. And it was as if our invitation to friendship was accepted. For the next two hours we talked, ate, danced, and had a great time together. Some of the kids were away for the weekend, so it allowed us to have more personal conversations with Ms. T and her oldest daughter. It was one of the most lively, engaging, and comfortable community dinners we have had in a while. Clearly my assumptions about her--that she didn't want to talk to the missionaries, that we were an offensive presence--were wrong.

In our conversations we learned that the reason Ms. T doesn't come out of the house often is because she has chronic pain that makes it difficult to do much at all. She wants so badly to work, but between her pain and a special-needs three-year-old, it's nearly impossible. 

Just like the label of "missionary" doesn't keep me from wanting friends on the block, I shouldn't have made the same assumptions based on Ms. T's veil. She enjoyed the time with us and stayed later than most. 

As she left, she covered her face once more. But now I know what's behind the veil. It's not a mystery. It's Ms. T, a friend.

**Some might read this and blame Ms. T for my fear and misunderstanding: "If she didn't wear a veil, it would have made things easier." I do not at all intend to blame or speak poorly of Muslims or anyone else who dons a face covering. I was wrong from the beginning for allowing her veil to be a source of discomfort for me. I am sharing a journey of overcoming fear and misunderstanding to become friends across barriers of difference. I inherited those fears from society, and I write this with hope that our society one day understands and accepts women who choose to wear a veil.

Like Family

Although I still have three months left in my Mission Year, it's hard not to think about what I will be doing when my year is over in August. Although there are practical things to think about such as where to live and where I might work, I'm also considering the values I want to live by, values that I've learned to practice in Mission Year.

One of those values is intentional community. We talk about it a lot in Mission Year, and I would say it's one of the main components of the program: living with six other people and committing to sharing not just space but experiences, food, money, and a spiritual journey. It's hard. And as I've thought about what that will look like after this year, I've asked the question, "Who are the people that I want to partner with like this in the future?" 

As I reflect on my Mission Year, I'm realizing that that question is a luxury. Because I didn't have that choice coming into Mission Year. I'm thinking now about friends of mine that I know and trust and would want to join with on a spiritual journey in community. But my time in Mission Year didn't afford me that choice. I was simply assigned six people to live with.

Luckily, they all wanted to go on the same journey, so it has worked out. But that doesn't mean that all of us are compatible or even that we like each other. (I'm pretty sure we do all enjoy each other quite a bit, but that hasn't always been the case.) Regardless of how we feel about each other, we are all in the same boat, so we have chosen to be intentional and forge friendships.

But as I looked toward the future, I thought, "This community thing will be so much easier when I'm with more compatible people," with a little bit of resentment that it didn't meet my idealistic expectations. I figured I could meet those expectations if I could just choose the people I lived with in the coming years. But a simple idea helped me to understand just how beautiful my community is this year. I read it in one of my teammate's newsletters, and it clicked for me! 

We're like family.

We have long called ourselves a family. It wasn't a decision we made; it just happened organically. But now as I think more about it, there isn't a more appropriate term. Like a family, we all live in the same (cramped) house. Like a family, we didn't choose each other. And like a family, we are bound to journey through life together--at least for this year. We can't escape those things, just like a biological family! Our ties are maybe not as permanent as a biological family, but many biological families don't stick together for life either. Like our team, most of them move on to the next stage of life without as close of a tie to each other.

We didn't choose each other and sometimes we may not like each other, but we're committed to loving each other with a love that's deeper than just compatibility. And I think we've done that. So here's to my Mission Year family! May we have three more loving months together and a lifetime of knowing that we will always share a familial bond!

Allan and Rasheen

Allan is on the left and Rasheen the right

Today's post is special because I got one of my friends to write with me. He lives down the street from me and sometimes we play together in the street or in my house. I invited him to write somehting to post here so you could meet him. We spend time together on Satureday afternoons, when my housemates and I make sure to spend time with our neighbors. His name is Allan Erwin, but I'll let him introduce himself:

"Hey my name is Allan Erwin. I like to play football. I play for a team also I play mosly on my block. I love to play with my friends there name is Preston Hogue and the other ones name Zamir Feilds also my brother play football with me. that is my life time storey."

These words are from Allan's brother Rasheen. I play with him often when I play with Allan. We always ahve fun together, and wehn we see each other on the street we wave and say hello. Today while they were at our house they helped my housemate Priscillia make muffins for another neighbor, too. Although Allan wrote his "life time storey," Rasheen decided to write a fictional story about him and me:

"Once upon a time there was a boy named rasheen he had no were to stay ntoher to eat or nothing to Drink one year later a Guy named preston came and said hello do you need a place to stay someting to eat or something to Drink He brang me to a shelter where i can have anything and rasheen and preston lived happyley ever after."