"We Rise by Lifting Others"
This week, I'm going to talk about one of my camp's six core values: inclusiveness. The core values are very important, not only in my professional camp life, but also within my personal life. Working to make camp inclusive is so important because of the huge variety of people who come to camp. We think that camp should be available to everyone, so we work hard to make sure that everyone who comes to camp is able to participate in activities regardless of ability, financial background, or age.
Last semester, there was a group that came to camp that was made up of inner-city school kids, many of whom had never been able to spend any substantial amount of time out in the woods. Many of the kids were freaked out by bugs, and didn't want to get their clothes dirty, both things that I expected and chalked up to simply not being exposed to bugs and dirt all around. That made sense. But there was something that happened later in the day that didn't make sense to me.
After dinner, the group got to play the Canada Game, a game that is truly amazing and that I might make an effort to explain in a later post. As we were wrapping up the game and heading toward the campfire, one of the kids stopped me.
"Miss Lauren, I don't feel safe out here."
"What? What's making you unsafe?
"I don't know, I just don't feel safe."
It simply didn't compute with me. I could not see how someone who lived in a pretty unsafe part of the city could feel unsafe in the back roads of Brown County. I did my best to reassure him that he was incredibly safe. Not only was he in the middle of nowhere, but he was in a cabin with around 20 other people, including teachers and chaperones. I personally promised him that I would do everything in my power to make sure that he was safe, but it still didn't seem to comfort him that much.
Later, I realized just how much my own personal experience has colored how I feel in certain situations. Growing up, I loved nature. I was in the Girl Scouts, I went camping and hiking with my family, and I went to summer camp. When I see nature, I see a place of peace and quiet, something removed from the rush of city life. I live at a camp, and it's probably the safest I've ever felt of all of the places that I have lived. It would take a lot of work to hurt me out here in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't until I talked to this child that I realized that nature isn't that haven for everyone. In fact, this vast unknown can be scary, anxiety-inducing, and uncomfortable. To someone who has never experienced camp before, it can feel like everything is dangerous, simply because you have never experienced anything like it. The fact that he was in the middle of nowhere, which I found reassuring, to him was totally terrifying.
It was a very sobering experience, one that I now wish that I would have handled differently. Since I can't change it, all I can do is make sure that I can really meet people where they are, and support them from that space and their experience, not from my own.
Yesterday was the Women's March, an event that filled me with pride and hope in a time that often feels dark and foreboding. I thought about doing this blog post on a different day, but it is such a prescient reminder for me, a white woman, especially today. I have had a privileged life thus far, one with loving parents that have been married for 27 years, a lifetime of private education, a wonderful college education, and I have to remember that I am one of the lucky ones. I have a responsibility to not only accept people who are different from me, but to welcome them, support them, and, above all, respect them. Thank you to my beautiful friends and all of the other incredible people who marched yesterday for being such wonderful sources of inspiration to me. And remember: be intersectional, be inclusive, be inspirational.
Last semester, there was a group that came to camp that was made up of inner-city school kids, many of whom had never been able to spend any substantial amount of time out in the woods. Many of the kids were freaked out by bugs, and didn't want to get their clothes dirty, both things that I expected and chalked up to simply not being exposed to bugs and dirt all around. That made sense. But there was something that happened later in the day that didn't make sense to me.
After dinner, the group got to play the Canada Game, a game that is truly amazing and that I might make an effort to explain in a later post. As we were wrapping up the game and heading toward the campfire, one of the kids stopped me.
"Miss Lauren, I don't feel safe out here."
"What? What's making you unsafe?
"I don't know, I just don't feel safe."
It simply didn't compute with me. I could not see how someone who lived in a pretty unsafe part of the city could feel unsafe in the back roads of Brown County. I did my best to reassure him that he was incredibly safe. Not only was he in the middle of nowhere, but he was in a cabin with around 20 other people, including teachers and chaperones. I personally promised him that I would do everything in my power to make sure that he was safe, but it still didn't seem to comfort him that much.
Later, I realized just how much my own personal experience has colored how I feel in certain situations. Growing up, I loved nature. I was in the Girl Scouts, I went camping and hiking with my family, and I went to summer camp. When I see nature, I see a place of peace and quiet, something removed from the rush of city life. I live at a camp, and it's probably the safest I've ever felt of all of the places that I have lived. It would take a lot of work to hurt me out here in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't until I talked to this child that I realized that nature isn't that haven for everyone. In fact, this vast unknown can be scary, anxiety-inducing, and uncomfortable. To someone who has never experienced camp before, it can feel like everything is dangerous, simply because you have never experienced anything like it. The fact that he was in the middle of nowhere, which I found reassuring, to him was totally terrifying.
It was a very sobering experience, one that I now wish that I would have handled differently. Since I can't change it, all I can do is make sure that I can really meet people where they are, and support them from that space and their experience, not from my own.
Yesterday was the Women's March, an event that filled me with pride and hope in a time that often feels dark and foreboding. I thought about doing this blog post on a different day, but it is such a prescient reminder for me, a white woman, especially today. I have had a privileged life thus far, one with loving parents that have been married for 27 years, a lifetime of private education, a wonderful college education, and I have to remember that I am one of the lucky ones. I have a responsibility to not only accept people who are different from me, but to welcome them, support them, and, above all, respect them. Thank you to my beautiful friends and all of the other incredible people who marched yesterday for being such wonderful sources of inspiration to me. And remember: be intersectional, be inclusive, be inspirational.
Comments
Post a Comment