Eyes that Kiss in the Corners*
Nearly two months after my last blog post, I find myself wondering why I've waited this long to write about all the marvelous things that have happened to me this year. 'Tis the time for obligatory, self-reflective messages about the highs, lows, good, and bad. And I guess I'm no different. The last 12 months have certainly had their roller coaster moments, even without the dreaded "C word."
Instead of sharing the 101 things that have really made me stop and think this year, I'm going to share one recent that I plan to take into the New Year.
The incident I'm about to share connected the ideas of identity and the values of this generation. I know, we've heard so many of these conversations about labels and what this "i-gen / gen z" has to offer the generations that have come before them. And having worked with teenagers for several years, I'm apt to respond: "more than we can ever know."
I recently asked the teens I work with, "When was the last time you saw a saint who looks like you?"
As one who has been surrounded with mostly European saints who are priests or nuns, I expected these 16 and 17 year olds to have plenty to say about the lack of representation in the Church triumphant. Instead, I got teens who said things like:
"Well, I'm Filipino, and St. Lorenzo Ruiz is Filipino, too."
"There's been a lot of Asian martyrs."
"Our Lady looks like the culture she appears to."
"I picked Blessed Carlo Acutis as my patron saint, and he's just like me."
That last statement especially caught my attention because it came from a young man who went on to say, "He liked video games. I like video games. He went to Church. I go to Church. He liked to help his friends. I like to help my friends."
It struck me that he described nothing I expected. He didn't see physical attributes. He just saw common likes and hobbies. It surprised me that this generation doesn't see race the way the previous ones have. And it was beautiful.
Racial identity played such an important role in my life. Growing up Filipino meant bringing lumpia to every potluck ever, visiting friends' houses while our parents played mahjong, and having the sounds of different Filipino dialects in my ears. It also meant going to Mass on Sundays, rosaries every night, and having images of the Santo Nino in our home. In the deep south, it meant feeling like I had to put two different parts of my identity (being Filipino and being Catholic) into two different boxes.
It wasn't until I was an adult that I saw how these pieces all fit together. During my discernment year, my vocations director, Adrienne, invited me to stay with the community in the Philippines so I could "experience the charism in the culture I grew up in." While I ended up not taking that path, I felt like she truly honored both parts of me that often fought against each other. And that meant more to me than making the trip overseas because someone finally "got it" and could help me understand it.
A few months ago, I came across an Instagram account Asian Catholic Woman, which explores what it means to be both Asian and Catholic without compromising either identity. I realized I'm not the only one who struggled with not seeing saints who looked like me. I'm not the only one with a desire to see people in the Church who look like me. Through this community, I've started to reconcile more peacefully the beautiful things God made me to be: my eyes that look different from my friends' eyes, darker skin, and a different body type than what culture may say is optimal.
I think it's a beautiful thing that teens today don't look at people and automatically see skin color first. They look deeper. I hope to be that way one day, but I also don't want to lose these things connected to my race that make me beautiful. Perhaps I am waiting for an even deeper marriage of these identities where external and internal attributes of a person don't have to be separated to see an entire person.
What do you think? When was the last time you saw a saint who looks like you?
*The title of this blog comes from a book, "Eyes that Kiss in the Corners" by Joanna Ho where a little girl learns how to treasure her almond shaped eyes that "glow like warm tea."