I dated a guy during college who told me once that he does not think he is privileged.
I stood in front of this heterosexual, white, American male in the process of completing his university education, and just gaped.
I think a lot about privilege when I am in Ghana.
The obvious comes to mind: I grew up in a spacious suburban home with two parents who read and sang to me, gave me a private school education, and saved for my college education before I even had a name. People have asked me for as long as I can remember what I want to be when I grow up, and I have always known that the answer was only dependent on the conclusion of my own judgment.
I have had everything I needed and many of things I wanted my entire life.
But there are other types of privilege.
In this dusty, hot, often uncomfortable environment, I find myself feeling fortunate even over the smallest things. Sleeping in a room with a fan - which only happens when I visit Karina and the others in Dzodze - as one example. Enjoying a quiet cup of instant coffee with condensed milk before my busy day starts and I have to start fielding the inevitable attention I attract simply walking down the street. A piece of ripe mango.
It's easier for me to maintain a mindset of gratitude, to feel rich in even the smallest things, on this side of the ocean.
And my personal favorite type of privilege: The incredible opportunity I have to work with all the people this non-profit endeavor has brought to me. SSF is growing; in our upcoming election we have enough candidates to potentially put our Board of Directors at it's full capacity of five members, and to put the Advisory Council from it's current 6 members to 10 filled seats out of the possible 20. Not that the number in itself is indicative of anything. What's amazing about it though is that all the people seeking active seats in our foundation are impressive and likable and talented in so many ways.
Even as I slowly (slowly) learn to have confidence in the gifts I myself have to offer our organization, I am no less impressed by those of my teammates. They are experts in education, business, technology, fundraising, law, medicine, and dreaming big. The fact that I have ended up as their spokesperson constantly amazes me.
Few people have the opportunity to work with and learn from such a diverse group in a collaborative effort like this. I have had the chance to grow through my relationships with them in ways that might never have happened otherwise.
At the end of each day, when I again have the opportunity to take the rare quiet moment to myself, that is a source of privilege that continues to stand out.
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Monday, July 6, 2015
Home Again
I will be getting on a plane tonight for my third trip back to Ghana in five years.
Five years already since this wild journey started!
I'm going back now with a brand new B.A., instead of as a recent high school graduate. I'm in my twenties now instead of my teens - something I appreciate as that seems to carry just that much more weight in the world. I've learned a new language, held three jobs and found yet another city to call home since I first stepped on a plane to Africa.
I will become a first-time aunt right about when I get back from this trip. And soon after that, fall will find me moving to Spain for a six-month job as an au pair before I mosey on to grad school.
Ghana has changed a lot since 2010 too, which I'm about to discover for myself. As an example, the dramatic changes in the exchange rate - a point of concern despite being increasingly in my favor - mean I won't know the prices for anything anymore. I have always found Ghana exciting as a place that is evolving so rapidly, and the comfort of returning to my other home always comes hand-in-hand with reorienting myself to what I've missed in the last two years.
Now that we're at the two year mark since the start of Students of Success Foundation, we'll be doing some major overhauls. Time to read through our Constitution again, decide needs revision, hold our first elections, etc. etc.
It's going to be a busy month on the other side of the ocean!
Five years already since this wild journey started!
I'm going back now with a brand new B.A., instead of as a recent high school graduate. I'm in my twenties now instead of my teens - something I appreciate as that seems to carry just that much more weight in the world. I've learned a new language, held three jobs and found yet another city to call home since I first stepped on a plane to Africa.
I will become a first-time aunt right about when I get back from this trip. And soon after that, fall will find me moving to Spain for a six-month job as an au pair before I mosey on to grad school.
Ghana has changed a lot since 2010 too, which I'm about to discover for myself. As an example, the dramatic changes in the exchange rate - a point of concern despite being increasingly in my favor - mean I won't know the prices for anything anymore. I have always found Ghana exciting as a place that is evolving so rapidly, and the comfort of returning to my other home always comes hand-in-hand with reorienting myself to what I've missed in the last two years.
Now that we're at the two year mark since the start of Students of Success Foundation, we'll be doing some major overhauls. Time to read through our Constitution again, decide needs revision, hold our first elections, etc. etc.
It's going to be a busy month on the other side of the ocean!
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Ever Wonder How Joan’s Dad Felt....?
People, especially ones with children of their own, frequently tell me how shocked they are that my parents allowed me to move to Africa as a recent high school graduate - not to mention that they helped me start the school and sent me back two years later to create the foundation. While most parents were struggling to cope with their children going to college out of state, mine were researching antimalarial drugs.
I'm sure I will never fully appreciate the depth of that sacrifice until I am a parent myself.
With his dual role as a parent and as a founding Advisory Council member with SSF, I asked my dad, Thomas Niemann, to share a little about his experience of my adventures in Ghana.
As he often does, my dad's response surprised me. But read for yourself...
That would be of Arc.
Imagine how the 15th Century conversation begins, “Hey Dad, I've had this vision with St. Michael the Archangel. I’m supposed to lead the king’s troops to victory. And don’t worry that I’m only 17 years old. I got this.”
Flash forward to the 21st Century. Your precious baby girl, who was supposed to spend a relatively innocuous “gap year” in Kentucky, now tells you she is fulfilling a lifelong dream and “calling” by going to Africa instead.
Like many dads, I have an over-active sense of protectionism. Like Joan’s dad most certainly had, I had a laundry list of items of why this was a “bad” idea.
You’re too young.
You’ll be with strangers.
Who will watch out for you?
You have no experience with leading troops into battle - oops, I mean, teaching orphans in a foreign country...
But your daughter is this remarkable, incredibly articulate, stubborn and amazing young woman.
She has her fears and worries, but also the conviction of a crusader. She is resolute in doing what she knows with all of her heart is what she has been called to do. So I did what any father would do when faced with the insurmountable will of his extraordinary daughter, backed by the faith of a similarly extraordinary mother, I got out of the way before I got steamrolled; and hit my knees.
So if you know Joan’s story, with a borrowed set of armor, she marched off to join the king’s army in Orleans, France. Katherine, with a full complement of vaccinations and bug repellent treated clothing, flew off to Accra, Ghana. As history tells us, Joan faced many obstacles and naysayers following her dream. So too did Katherine, but like Joan, she persevered in the face of heart-wrenching tragedies and organizational politics. And like Joan, she carried the day.
With a courageous heart and undefeatable spirit, both of these remarkable women achieved what they were called upon to do, and the world is a better place because they believed and would not be deterred.
And like the father of any remarkable child, daughter or son, we stand in awe of what our progeny can accomplish in spite of our limited abilities to grasp how they can accomplish the inconceivable.
And when it is all said and done we breathe a very proud sigh of relief. We thank God that Katherine’s story had a much happier ending than Joan’s. But like Joan’s father, we’re also eternally grateful for having been allowed the inestimable honor of being their father; and we share with pride the abundant crop of new gray hair the experience has brought us....
I'm sure I will never fully appreciate the depth of that sacrifice until I am a parent myself.
With his dual role as a parent and as a founding Advisory Council member with SSF, I asked my dad, Thomas Niemann, to share a little about his experience of my adventures in Ghana.
As he often does, my dad's response surprised me. But read for yourself...
That would be of Arc.
Imagine how the 15th Century conversation begins, “Hey Dad, I've had this vision with St. Michael the Archangel. I’m supposed to lead the king’s troops to victory. And don’t worry that I’m only 17 years old. I got this.”
Flash forward to the 21st Century. Your precious baby girl, who was supposed to spend a relatively innocuous “gap year” in Kentucky, now tells you she is fulfilling a lifelong dream and “calling” by going to Africa instead.
Like many dads, I have an over-active sense of protectionism. Like Joan’s dad most certainly had, I had a laundry list of items of why this was a “bad” idea.
You’re too young.
You’ll be with strangers.
Who will watch out for you?
You have no experience with leading troops into battle - oops, I mean, teaching orphans in a foreign country...
But your daughter is this remarkable, incredibly articulate, stubborn and amazing young woman.
She has her fears and worries, but also the conviction of a crusader. She is resolute in doing what she knows with all of her heart is what she has been called to do. So I did what any father would do when faced with the insurmountable will of his extraordinary daughter, backed by the faith of a similarly extraordinary mother, I got out of the way before I got steamrolled; and hit my knees.
So if you know Joan’s story, with a borrowed set of armor, she marched off to join the king’s army in Orleans, France. Katherine, with a full complement of vaccinations and bug repellent treated clothing, flew off to Accra, Ghana. As history tells us, Joan faced many obstacles and naysayers following her dream. So too did Katherine, but like Joan, she persevered in the face of heart-wrenching tragedies and organizational politics. And like Joan, she carried the day.
With a courageous heart and undefeatable spirit, both of these remarkable women achieved what they were called upon to do, and the world is a better place because they believed and would not be deterred.
And like the father of any remarkable child, daughter or son, we stand in awe of what our progeny can accomplish in spite of our limited abilities to grasp how they can accomplish the inconceivable.
And when it is all said and done we breathe a very proud sigh of relief. We thank God that Katherine’s story had a much happier ending than Joan’s. But like Joan’s father, we’re also eternally grateful for having been allowed the inestimable honor of being their father; and we share with pride the abundant crop of new gray hair the experience has brought us....
Thursday, September 4, 2014
History Lesson
I was sitting in my Sociology of Minority Groups class today, only half listening while my professor rambled on about global population changes throughout history. In passing, she mentioned that the first slaves to arrive in America were a group of West Africans brought in a Dutch ship.
And suddenly she had my full attention.
I had a startling realization that it is extremely likely I have stood in the very same cell where those people were held before making that horrific journey.
Elmina, in Cape Coast, is the largest and oldest slave fort in West Africa, the center of the slave trade for the Dutch for decades.
And I've been there.
I've been in the prisoner cells. Listened to the story from the other side of history.
Suddenly the world seemed like a much smaller place. It was shocking for history to become so immediately and unexpectedly real for me with just that one offhand comment. I may have learned about slavery since grade school... even visited the slave forts themselves... but oddly, it had never seemed more real to me than it did in that moment. Perhaps it took the two coming together for me to realize how interconnected our lives can be. To know with sudden clarity that history isn't just names and dates, but the stories of real flesh and blood humans who lived and breathed in places where I too have lived and breathed.
I felt a genuine sorrow for them. Not an abstract reaction like history lessons might normally generate, but a true sadness, as if I'd known them. I also felt gratitude, that I have been fortunate enough to have these life experiences that give me this perspective. I do not take for granted that the things I have seen and touched and tasted have allowed me to personally identify with so many varied situations.
Sometimes things aren't as far away or as irrelevant as we might like to think they are.
And suddenly she had my full attention.
I had a startling realization that it is extremely likely I have stood in the very same cell where those people were held before making that horrific journey.
Elmina, in Cape Coast, is the largest and oldest slave fort in West Africa, the center of the slave trade for the Dutch for decades.
And I've been there.
I've been in the prisoner cells. Listened to the story from the other side of history.
Suddenly the world seemed like a much smaller place. It was shocking for history to become so immediately and unexpectedly real for me with just that one offhand comment. I may have learned about slavery since grade school... even visited the slave forts themselves... but oddly, it had never seemed more real to me than it did in that moment. Perhaps it took the two coming together for me to realize how interconnected our lives can be. To know with sudden clarity that history isn't just names and dates, but the stories of real flesh and blood humans who lived and breathed in places where I too have lived and breathed.
I felt a genuine sorrow for them. Not an abstract reaction like history lessons might normally generate, but a true sadness, as if I'd known them. I also felt gratitude, that I have been fortunate enough to have these life experiences that give me this perspective. I do not take for granted that the things I have seen and touched and tasted have allowed me to personally identify with so many varied situations.
Sometimes things aren't as far away or as irrelevant as we might like to think they are.
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Serenity or Courage?
I received an email from a man who has spent a significant amount of time as a volunteer teacher in Ghana, particularly in the Volta region. He applauded our good work, but he challenged our ability to eliminate the use of corporal punishment in foundation schools. He argued that caning is too ingrained into Ghanaian culture; a mindset that is too hard to fight.
I work at a group home for adults with developmental disabilities, a job I typically enjoy. However we encountered a difficult situation this week that has no clear solution. Doing the right thing will mean doing the hard thing, and that will still not guarantee a successful outcome.
These two situations have prompted a lot of reflection for me over the past few days. They remind me of the Serenity Prayer:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.
Maybe it bothers me that it's called the Serenity Prayer.
How often is our first reflex to shrug and say, "That's just the way it is"? Why are we so often content to believe we have no capacity to implement change? What if we taught ourselves to ask for courage first, and serenity only as a last resort?
I personally believe there are very few things in life we actually don't have any ability to change. I also believe most problems are bigger than what we could tackle by ourselves, but there's no cosmic rule that says you can't fight something unless you can fight it alone.
Getting rid of corporal punishment in Ghanaian schools is going to be a long, uphill battle. Perhaps it's a battle that all of us with SSF aren't going to be able to win by ourselves. Maybe the best we'll ever be able to do is chip away at this problem, and it will be someone else down the line who finally breaks through.
My dilemma at work is most definitely a problem that will outlive my time as an employee there. My impact will only be a ripple in a solution that should be a tidal wave. I'm going to make that ripple anyway.
There are so many things I want to help change; problems I don't have any intention of developing a sense of peace about.
I'm going to need a different prayer, I think.
I work at a group home for adults with developmental disabilities, a job I typically enjoy. However we encountered a difficult situation this week that has no clear solution. Doing the right thing will mean doing the hard thing, and that will still not guarantee a successful outcome.
These two situations have prompted a lot of reflection for me over the past few days. They remind me of the Serenity Prayer:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
Courage to change the things I can,
And wisdom to know the difference.
Maybe it bothers me that it's called the Serenity Prayer.
How often is our first reflex to shrug and say, "That's just the way it is"? Why are we so often content to believe we have no capacity to implement change? What if we taught ourselves to ask for courage first, and serenity only as a last resort?
I personally believe there are very few things in life we actually don't have any ability to change. I also believe most problems are bigger than what we could tackle by ourselves, but there's no cosmic rule that says you can't fight something unless you can fight it alone.
Getting rid of corporal punishment in Ghanaian schools is going to be a long, uphill battle. Perhaps it's a battle that all of us with SSF aren't going to be able to win by ourselves. Maybe the best we'll ever be able to do is chip away at this problem, and it will be someone else down the line who finally breaks through.
My dilemma at work is most definitely a problem that will outlive my time as an employee there. My impact will only be a ripple in a solution that should be a tidal wave. I'm going to make that ripple anyway.
There are so many things I want to help change; problems I don't have any intention of developing a sense of peace about.
I'm going to need a different prayer, I think.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
You Have Arrived
I'm just full of good news these days!
I was eating our traditional St. Patty's Day dinner with my friends and roommates when I got the call from my dad that we had met our third and final fundraising goal. My friend said he'd never seen someone have to sit down because of good news before.
Only two and a half weeks after the Open Challenge began, Students of Success met and exceeded it's $7,500 goal.
As the Open Challenge drew to a close yesterday, we have raised over $8,400 from 76 donors.
Although we are certainly continuing to fundraise, today I am taking a moment to step back and enjoy the view.
Thank you to everyone who helped us reach this incredible milestone.
Sunday, March 16, 2014
The First Pancake
I got a package from my mom yesterday.
The first thing I pulled out was a box of pancake mix.
Which both my roommate and I thought was a little weird... until I was reaching into the box to see what else was in there and suddenly it hit me:
"Hillary, it's the first pancake!!!"
All week leading up to our "An Evening For Africa" fundraiser, I was referring to it as my "first pancake." See, the first pancake is the experiment, and therefore the one that usually gets thrown out. Maybe the griddle's too cold and it's all runny and weird. Maybe it's too hot and then it gets burned. There's no shame in throwing out the first pancake.
As our first official event as a foundation - not to mention the first time I've personally ever tried to plan an event on that scale - I was pretty worried about the outcome of our first pancake.
My anxiety didn't get much better when we had a smaller turnout than I would have liked. There wasn't much of a difference between the number of people in attendance and the number of people we needed to cover the cost of our overhead, so I wasn't overly optimistic that we'd made enough money to justify the time, energy and funds I'd put into hosting this event.
Despite my worries, it was a lovely evening. I was so amazed by the interest and support I received from our guests. They were generous and responsive. Afternoon Delight Cafe provided us with delicious desserts and we had two professional cellists playing duets. My presentation went off without a hitch. I figured that I may not have raised much money, but at least I'd gotten the event-planning experience.
That night I went home and did the math.
Then I did the math again.
Then I made my mom do the math.
"An Evening For Africa" raised over $1,500!
Little did I realize that the fundraiser was only the beginning...
Wednesday was Bonus Day, which meant that Global Giving was matching donations at 15%. We urged people at the fundraiser to wait to pay for their auction items or make any further contributions until then.
As Bonus Day dawned, Karina called me to discuss some things, and told me that we were at almost $3,000 and 29 donors. (Our participation in Global Giving's Open Challenge is threefold: To earn a permanent place on the website we must raise at least $5,000 from at least 40 unique donors, and we also set a personal goal of $7,500.)
By the time I got home from class at 2 pm, I got the news from my mom that we had met the $5,000 and 40 donor mark.
We were officially part of Global Giving.
I went to work at 3 pm and ecstatically told my boss the good news.
About two hours later, one of my friends who was keeping an eye on the website for me (without me even having to ask!) told me we had broken $6,000.
The texts and phone calls were pouring in for those several hours when we were rising by more than $500/hour. I walked around work in a daze.
By the end of the day, we had raised over $3,500 and earned 4th place for the most donations received for Bonus Day.
Currently we are at over $6,800 - just shy of our personal goal - from over 60 donors, and only just halfway through Open Challenge month.
I am amazed, and moved beyond words by these results. Unless you have lived in a developing community, it is almost impossible to convey the impact this amount of money can have.
More than that though... I cannot describe the feeling of realizing that somehow we have gotten people to care about what we're doing. I have carried around this fierce love for Ghana and my Aflao family for nearly four years now. Suddenly I have come face-to-face with proof that those sparks have somehow set light to a fire. Somehow we have convinced other people to care about my Aflao family too without even having met them - enough to raise almost $7,000 in two weeks.
That is astounding.
How can I express how powerful that is?
I have worked single-mindedly since July to accomplish exactly what we finally achieved on Wednesday, March 12th: a permanent place with Global Giving, and with it the means to sustain the work we've begun half a world away. We have been given this wondrous ability to make a real impact on this world because 60 people (and many more, really) chose to believe in our vision for our students. I hope I never fail to be humbled by and grateful for that responsibility.
The rest of the package from my mom included a bottle of maple syrup and a card that read, "Sometimes you don't throw out your first pancake after all..."
The first thing I pulled out was a box of pancake mix.
Which both my roommate and I thought was a little weird... until I was reaching into the box to see what else was in there and suddenly it hit me:
"Hillary, it's the first pancake!!!"
All week leading up to our "An Evening For Africa" fundraiser, I was referring to it as my "first pancake." See, the first pancake is the experiment, and therefore the one that usually gets thrown out. Maybe the griddle's too cold and it's all runny and weird. Maybe it's too hot and then it gets burned. There's no shame in throwing out the first pancake.
As our first official event as a foundation - not to mention the first time I've personally ever tried to plan an event on that scale - I was pretty worried about the outcome of our first pancake.
My anxiety didn't get much better when we had a smaller turnout than I would have liked. There wasn't much of a difference between the number of people in attendance and the number of people we needed to cover the cost of our overhead, so I wasn't overly optimistic that we'd made enough money to justify the time, energy and funds I'd put into hosting this event.
Despite my worries, it was a lovely evening. I was so amazed by the interest and support I received from our guests. They were generous and responsive. Afternoon Delight Cafe provided us with delicious desserts and we had two professional cellists playing duets. My presentation went off without a hitch. I figured that I may not have raised much money, but at least I'd gotten the event-planning experience.
That night I went home and did the math.
Then I did the math again.
Then I made my mom do the math.
"An Evening For Africa" raised over $1,500!
Little did I realize that the fundraiser was only the beginning...
Wednesday was Bonus Day, which meant that Global Giving was matching donations at 15%. We urged people at the fundraiser to wait to pay for their auction items or make any further contributions until then.
As Bonus Day dawned, Karina called me to discuss some things, and told me that we were at almost $3,000 and 29 donors. (Our participation in Global Giving's Open Challenge is threefold: To earn a permanent place on the website we must raise at least $5,000 from at least 40 unique donors, and we also set a personal goal of $7,500.)
By the time I got home from class at 2 pm, I got the news from my mom that we had met the $5,000 and 40 donor mark.
We were officially part of Global Giving.
I went to work at 3 pm and ecstatically told my boss the good news.
About two hours later, one of my friends who was keeping an eye on the website for me (without me even having to ask!) told me we had broken $6,000.
The texts and phone calls were pouring in for those several hours when we were rising by more than $500/hour. I walked around work in a daze.
By the end of the day, we had raised over $3,500 and earned 4th place for the most donations received for Bonus Day.
Currently we are at over $6,800 - just shy of our personal goal - from over 60 donors, and only just halfway through Open Challenge month.
I am amazed, and moved beyond words by these results. Unless you have lived in a developing community, it is almost impossible to convey the impact this amount of money can have.
More than that though... I cannot describe the feeling of realizing that somehow we have gotten people to care about what we're doing. I have carried around this fierce love for Ghana and my Aflao family for nearly four years now. Suddenly I have come face-to-face with proof that those sparks have somehow set light to a fire. Somehow we have convinced other people to care about my Aflao family too without even having met them - enough to raise almost $7,000 in two weeks.
That is astounding.
How can I express how powerful that is?
I have worked single-mindedly since July to accomplish exactly what we finally achieved on Wednesday, March 12th: a permanent place with Global Giving, and with it the means to sustain the work we've begun half a world away. We have been given this wondrous ability to make a real impact on this world because 60 people (and many more, really) chose to believe in our vision for our students. I hope I never fail to be humbled by and grateful for that responsibility.
The rest of the package from my mom included a bottle of maple syrup and a card that read, "Sometimes you don't throw out your first pancake after all..."
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