One year since Walkabout
The other day Facebook let me know it had been a year since I completed Walkabout 2017. A full year since I threw all the life cards in the air and tried to figure out what the hell I wanted to do next.
I did the job search thing and still find it hard to put into words my experience with the search and the search firms that came calling and I signed up with. For me, it exposed some truths about the racism in the sector I have worked in for the last 20 or so years and its efforts to diversify leadership. I’ve been excited to see so many leaders of colour take the helm at nonprofit organisations in the last few months but about a year ago I was told by one consultant at a national search firm that I had an inflated sense of my accomplishments and experience. Possibly. But when they kept trying to push me towards a certain job I repeatedly said I had no interest in, I knew it wasn’t me. When I was told I made their applicant pool look good, I thought it was definitely time for a change of venue before I punched one of the search consultants in the neck.
I decided to take a job in Edinburgh, Scotland because, you know, go big or go home.
This wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. The seed had been planted months before when I was in Edinburgh doing a training for a new 826-inspired organisation, the Super Power Agency. I have wanted to move overseas for a long time and as a nonprofit person, the opportunity for an overseas job doesn’t present itself often. The chance to work for a nonprofit model I was already intimately familiar in a liveable city just made the opportunity to good to pass up. I offered my services and experience, they thought about it, they then offered me a job. I said yes.
That was nine months ago and I have not regretted the decision. Not once. It has been an interesting ride.
I didn’t realise how much of an adjustment it would take to the brain and the body when you move to another country. None of these changes has been bad. Well except for the dramatic change in sleep patterns, the changes have been interesting and some have been advantageous. I lost about 20 pounds or one stone and six pounds. One stone = 14 pounds. That’s one I still haven’t mastered. Do all stones here weigh 14 pounds?
My anxiety level has dropped dramatically, more on this in another post. The hectic, travel-heavy work schedule has been replaced by a work schedule that allows me to stay in one place and work directly with young people and the community. I do miss wearing suits. I actually said that out loud one day. That’s a dramatic change from the young man that left Wesleyan University with a vow to never wear a suit.
Probably the most stark and interesting adjustment is the one you can guess. I need to stop calling trousers pants because pants in the UK are underwear. Complimenting a man on his pants here opens up a whole different conversation and strange looks. As one man said, “Why the hell are you asking me about my pants?”
But seriously, as you can guess there are not many African Americans in Edinburgh. Actually, I may be one of three. African immigrants yes, African American gay immigrants looking for a time-out from the orange apocalypse engulfing America, no. I knew that going in that I would be a Black Unicorn in a sea of white faces. It’s not a new experience for me. Private school in NYC, San Francisco, being the lone black person in white spaces has been a part of my life since I first walked into the halls of Columbia Grammar and Prep. The trick is always knowing you are a Black Unicorn in a sea of white faces. I’ll admit to having lost that thread in high school until my aunt/sister gave me a wake up call and have never forgotten it.
Being a Black Unicorn in an entire city on a daily basis is new. I’ve gotten my fair share of stares mostly from the elderly who find the internet and mobile phones a mystery. The young people we work with are much more interested in the fact that I’m American. They are fascinated by it. To them, that’s what makes me other. To the people my age, they are much more concerned about what I think of the orange apocalypse. The millenials are fascinated with the fact I grew up in NYC and my accent which they can’t place but believe may be pure California. I haven’t experienced any of the outward racism you get used to as a black person in America. At least not to my face. If it happens, I’ll let you know. Notice I didn’t say ‘when.’ I have faith.
I think the most interesting thing has been the need to reframe my thoughts about what under-resourced and low-income means in youth development in Scotland. In the US, when we talk under-resourced and low-income young people in urban schools they are primarily children of colour. In Scotland those children are primarily white, they may be different ethnicities, Polish, Eastern European, etc but majority white with a small percentage of children from former UK colonies and refugees from our wars. I realised I needed to reframe my thinking and it was a welcome reframing. It’s started me thinking outside of my comfortable bubble.
The other conversation that opened my eyes also took place at Leith Academy, the school we are working in. We were in a meeting with other nonprofits and partners providing services and support to the school. The different representatives went around the room talking about the services they provided and the work they were doing. There was a police officer in the room talking about the work they do to increase school safety. The police officer, named Felicity, talked about how they were building awareness of their work to have students trust the police so that they report incidents of violence and reduce incidents of knife crime.
Knife crime. Not gun crime. Not schools shootings. Knife crime.
Being the new guy in the room I raised my hand. “Excuse me, Officer Felicity,” I asked. “Did you say knife crime?”
The room fell silent and I was acutely aware that everyone was looking at me with a smile on their faces. Officer Felicity smiled at me and with the Scottish accent I have come to love answered me.
“Yes knife crime. This isn’t America.”
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