When I moved from rural Ohio to San Diego, California, in 1997, I was a rube. I didn’t know I was a rube, but I absolutely, unequivocally, was a rube.
I grew up in a white town. All of my teachers were white. All of my classmates were white. All of my pastors and the members of my church were white. In college, I finally had encounters with people of different races and cultures, but not in any deep and meaningful way.
But when I arrived in San Diego, all of that changed. San Diego is a diverse and vibrant city filled with every culture and heritage you can imagine. My life became astronomically richer and exponentially happier because I got to know and understand people from different backgrounds, races, and cultures.
But this life transformation didn’t come without some uncomfortable moments.
I grew up in a Christian household and attended a Baptist church most of my childhood. The first Baptist church, we went to kicked out my angel mother because she wore lipstick. Some ladies came to apologize and give her a second chance,” but when they arrived, she and my grandmother were playing cards, another sin, so they concluded they were right about her, and left.
The second Baptist church I went to was not as legalistic as the first. However, they still taught me about all the things I should be afraid of and that I should be on the lookout for the demonic forces that were continually following me trying to lure me away from my faith.
Why am I telling you this? For context. Without it, the next part of this story would seem absurd.
Jeff and I made friends with people from his new job, one of whom is our dear friend Alfredo. Alfredo graciously invited us over for dinner, and we accepted. As soon as we walked into his house, there was something that seriously frightened me. I got sick to my stomach. I was shaky.
My first reaction to what I saw was, “OMG, this dude has a demonic shrine in his living room.” Skeletons and candles! A shrine of things that seemed scary and wicked to me. I thought I must have walked into the home of one of the devil worshippers the Baptists warned me about!
But wait, that thought didn’t make any sense. How could that be? Alfredo was (is!) a very kind and gentle man. There was nothing remotely in his character that would make me think he was into Satan.
Instead of letting that fear grip me, I decided to do something uncomfortable and ask him, “Hey, what’s with all the skeletons?” (Hopefully, I was more polite than that…)
His answer was eloquent and passionate and had me in tears. He explained to me about Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) and that those skeletons represented lost loved ones. He patiently educated me about his culture and all the symbolism present in that shrine. He answered my questions. He didn’t laugh at me, although he probably wanted to. I was no longer scared, but instead very moved. Did you see the film Coco? If so, I bet you cried. It’s beautiful. But before you saw that film, did you already know about the Day of the Dead?
I had never had a Mexican friend before. I had not been taught about their holidays, cultures, or traditions in school. My first reaction to something unfamiliar was Fear. I was afraid because I didn’t understand. I had a blind spot, but I didn’t know it until some of my beliefs were challenged by befriending a dear man with a different cultural background.
I am thankful for his patience with me. I appreciate that he allowed me to use him as my Mexican culture Yoda for my first year in San Diego. I am thankful he didn’t dismiss me as a bigot simply because I was uneducated in his culture. We are still friends. Alfredo’s kindness and graciousness helped me overcome ignorance and allowed me to be immersed in a beautiful tradition of a warm, soulful, colorful, and vibrant culture.
These kinds of conversations are vital and necessary. We can’t make assumptions about people, traditions, and cultures we are unfamiliar with. Sure, it’s scary to ask those questions, but if we are ever to move forward as a united people, we have to work to understand each other and replace Fear with Love.
– Tamilu June 8, 2020
Forest Gumping my way through life 
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