American Sprinkled with African: Conversations with Grace

My Grace is now 18, has started college, and is studying to become a middle-school history teacher. I think she’s pretty fascinating, and want more people to get to know her. So she agreed to let me interview her for my blog. Just remember that she represents only herself, not all adopted kids, or even her siblings. And as she continues to process her childhood, her answers to these questions will continue to evolve. But she gives a great snapshot of her unique life, and I know you’ll enjoy it!

What was it like to grow up Tanzanian in Tanzania by American parents?

I’m sure that when I was younger, it didn’t feel as weird as it does looking back on it now. I knew other kids that were being raised like that, so I was like, “That’s normal.” Uh, no. No, it’s not! 

As I grew up, like the last few years we were in Tanzania, I started realizing that I was treated differently by my Tanzanian classmates because I was from Tanzania, but that was the only thing that we had in common. I wasn’t fluent in Swahili; I had an accent from 10,000 miles away; I knew a lot about American culture and not Tanzanian culture. Sometimes I was subject to minor bullying. It wasn’t like I felt attacked; it was more like insults….. but that’s also because middle schoolers are awful. [And yet she wants to teach middle school!]

But also, being at Haven of Peace Academy really helped. Just because, even if they weren’t adopted, there were so many other kids like me there. There were kids who were from a different culture coming to live in Tanzania, which is kind of like my experience since I grew up in a culturally American home. Of course, I had great Tanzanian food and we listened to Tanzanian music but other than that, it was very American. So having missionary and international kids at the school made me feel that there were way many other people like me around me. 

In moving to the U.S. I realized, Whoa, there are more Black people here than I realized. So many ethnicities are counted as “Black” but there are so many different experiences represented. A Nigerian who moved to America as a college student will be living a crazy life of cultural shock. But other kids who are Nigerian and grew up here are completely different. It helped me to realize that there are so many different Black experiences in the U.S. Yes, my story is weird but that’s true of so many people in America. 

Do you feel more American or Tanzanian?

Wait, I hate this question! For starters, please just ask me where I’ve lived. Don’t ask this question. I hate this question. But if you must know, it depends on what I’m talking about. If you were to ask me what I feel ethnically or what I represent most, I would definitely say Tanzanian. That’s what I look like, I look like a certain tribe. I have a natural gift for dancing, which I gloat over people! But culturally, I definitely would say American. I have taken on so many American values. The way that I live my life is American sprinkled with African. It’s like I’ve seasoned my life up a little bit. 

If you were to ask me where I think home is, I would now say the United States of America. It took me a really long time to accept that. 

When moving there, especially living in Redlands (which I love, by the way), the community that we moved into at church and school and family circles was very predominantly white. Like, very much so. My graduating class had 7 Black kids in it. It helped that a lot of the Black kids were international kids. (I love people who can turn on another accent!) It took a while for me to feel like I belong here. Because I just didn’t look like everybody. Or think like everybody. Which is interesting, because, in Tanzania, I didn’t feel like I belonged either. Which is partially a TCK [Third Culture Kid] thing. I was a Tanzanian who wasn’t immersed in Tanzanian culture. 

But Tanzania still felt like home because normally we think “home is where family is” and we had so many people in our life who had become family who lived in Tanzania. When we were evacuated, all of that got left behind with no goodbyes. That was hard because those were people I could comfortably call my aunts, uncles, and cousins.   

America feels more like home in the sense of what you think home is. A house, a neighborhood. Tanzania felt like home because of the people and the community. That’s different in the U.S. 

How have you seen God’s hand in your life?

You want me to talk, don’t you? Okay, I’ll give you three major points:

First, unbeknownst to my 8th-grade self, the Pandemic hitting when it did. I was not happy. I was so mad that we had to leave. My motivation to do classwork was not there. I didn’t want to do anything. It hurt to associate with my schoolwork [because it reminded her of Tanzania]. But in that, Daddy got a substitute job at Arrowhead. In us moving back early, he got that job. And I think God was like, “This is going to be hard, but you’ve got to trust me on this.” 

I was terrified to move to Redlands. Now, I can hear the Lord saying, “Just give it a little try for me.” I’ve met my best friends–almost ever. I have some top-tier people in my life now, which is so awesome. The opportunities that I’ve had to study higher level stuff. Achieving all that I have in high school, playing competitive sports, learning leadership skills from that, being basketball team captain senior year, being able to go to a Christian school. My ability to stay closer to God. When we moved to the U.S., I was not a Christian. I was over religion. It wasn’t working (even though I realize now that’s not how faith works). But then, in having not just Bible classes but also Christian teachers who were challenging me, that was super cool. 

Second, going to camp. I had never been to camp before until my sophomore summer. The camp after my junior year–that was the year that I had moved away from a friend group earlier that year who didn’t have the same values as me. That was the year at camp that I started asking way more questions about Christianity and genuinely wanting to know, “How can I get this for myself?” Which is dumb because, for heaven’s sake, my father is a Bible teacher. But I finally wanted to really figure it out for myself and not just have it told to me over and over again. 

The last one is being adopted. As hard as it is, and there are certain things that I still struggle with today, being adopted not only gave me a second chance at life but an opportunity to know who God is and know what He’s done. Even in serious pain, and in some cases, in horror, he works everything out for good and all of his plans are beautiful. The fact that I get to be one of those plans and that gets to be my story–I get to be a part all the beauty he spreads in the world, I get to say, “God did that.” That’s something that I will never stop sharing about. That’s a part of my story where if you really want to know how my life has been impacted and changed it was the day I was chosen to be a part of the Medina family. Actually, to be the START of the Medina family. You got an easy start to the pack, Mom. You’re welcome.