Three minutes.

I had an encounter this week with immigration officers. 

I was doing literally nothing but sitting in a vehicle, waiting for my colleagues who were picking up a few supplies at the market. 

I was looking at my phone, mindlessly scrolling, when a tap on the window of the locked vehicle I was waiting in startled me and a glimpse the officer’s uniform only increased my already rapid pulse. I smiled and rolled down the window just a few inches; enough to speak and show respect but not enough for an arm to get inside, while sliding my phone in between the seats next to me, out of sight and hopefully out of mind.  I noticed in my peripheral vision that another uniformed man had approached the other window and I took a deep breath. 

I spoke first, a strong Hello Sir with another smile, and asked him how he was doing today; respect and courtesy in confidence is key.  He didn’t smile but did say helloand fine in response, before demanding to see my papers.  It’s the first time this has happened to me and I wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking for; I knew my visa was notexpired but my passport was back at home, while I had submitted my residency paperwork the week after arriving and haven’t yet received the official residency letter…  but my hesitation in responding only seemed to make him more animated. He reached for my door handle while strongly informing me it’s illegal for me to be more than 500 meters from my residence without my immigration paperwork. 

Thankfully I did indeed have my residency application receipt with me; I said confidently, sir, I do have my paperwork, and showed it to him through the window.  He looked at it closely, handed it back, and he and his colleague walked away. The whole thing lasted about three minutes.

It was startling, and surprising, and certainly got my blood pumping, but ultimately it was a few guys who were bored and thought they could probably intimidate the white woman into giving them some cash to leave her alone.  They underestimated my unwillingness to be intimidated, and the fact that I happened to have my receipt with me (which I hadn’t had earlier that week).

But as I’ve been sitting with and feeling the heavy weight of privilege, and seeing the headlines regarding immigration coming from my home country, and thinking about the heinous atrocities experienced by fellow members of the human race simply because of the color of their skin or their accent or their chosen dress, I realize it was a gift; a glimpse into the life of another.

I was harassed for sitting in a car while white.  I wasn’t hurt and it dissipated as fast as it erupted, so I would never dream of comparing it to the friend who is regularly harassed for flying while brown, the friend who was verbally assaulted for wearing a hijab, or the countless stories of others who are harassed for simply breathing oxygen while different.  

I never really believed I was in a dangerous situation, and I wasn’t, really.  But even so, I was surrounded, intimidated, and can now imagine how that situation could have escalated into danger much more quickly had the environment been different.  He was just trying to get some money out of me and gave up rather quickly when he realized it wasn’t going to be easy.  The fires of hatred I see being stoked daily across the globe aren't about money, they're about a desire to eliminate the existence of the perceived threat, and the definition of said threat is anyone who believes, lives, or looks different.   

And once again, I’m wrecked. 

I can’t handle that people live their entire lives in the fear I felt for about three minutes earlier this week.  I hate that I was made to feel like a criminal while I’m here giving my life trying to help; but I hate more that I don’t actually really know and never will truly understand what others who are different feel while they’re harassed and accused and questioned and distrusted regularly. 

And I’m sorry for my ignorance, my compliance, my diminishment and dismissal.  I want to know, to understand, to be aware and awake to the good and the bad and the ugly of this world I live in.  I want to feel the pain of injustice and then do something about it.  I want to respond to this incident not by becoming bitter or angry or rude or any other way I might be tempted to retaliate for how I was treated; I want to respond with love and service, laying down my pride and arrogance and privilege to instead ask the tough questions and somehow do justice and love mercy and walk humbly and learn and grow and empathize and then use every waking minute I can to make the world a little bit better.  This is how we counteract the darkness… not by yelling at it but shining a light into it.