Without hesitation, our host opened his home, fed us and showed immense hospitality. It was with great ease we were welcomed into the local world, a dream of a place, by a person who trusted us to reciprocate the kind of spirit he was extending: the essence of an expanded heart, one that shows a departure from fear and a promise of embracing the idea of community and friendship without traditional boundaries.

As we departed from New Orleans I was hit with the retrospective allowance of just how many times I’d been welcomed into the galaxies of people who orbit in a rotation of love and the concept of an inclusive neighborhood. In every person’s residence, there is a probable miracle that can be ignited in the decision to make room for colossal and impactful generosity.

This past summer, I left the west coast to take a long road trip in the direction of Texas. I made my way by couchsurfing in the homes of several people I didn’t know and who had never met me. There was risk on both sides but in the best of scenarios, the option for vulnerability appeared and thus, connection. I was welcomed into the lives of strangers who showed me how they lived.

These people lived differently than I did and I could recognize that, but there were similarities as well, as the balance of life would have it. In Albuquerque, I had wonderful hosts who showed me their city and shared a certain kind of magic that exists beyond the boundary of fear. In our many chances to recognize people, small details will rise and show us how most people intend to live their lives: with grace and effort, in trust and in hope. Our world is complicated, but every person has a neighbor and every person is a neighbor. How can this idea impact our sense of place?

Generosity of the heart may seem rare in times of tumultuous political periods, but I would like to propose a different design: that generosity is never scarce because it can be created from the open-ended immortal of the heart. Generosity is plentiful and uninhibited in its sincerity. Most people are generous everyday, with their children, their neighbors and their friends. This is a good place to start. Our grace and compassion shouldn’t end at our front door; instead, it should spread from here. Kindness and inclusivity should be like Gatsby’s lawn: enormous, running out into the horizon and stretching beyond us the way the promise of a bright future does.

Countless homes have been open to me and I continue to learn acceptance, respect and understanding of the people who live there. I have questioned recently who my neighbors and fellow countrymen are, in light of immense trends of bigotry, racism and chauvinism. There is great grief and disgust in knowing the tremendous amount of work we could undo in the way of human rights and progress with such pervasive idiocy and prejudice in our nation. As we know, these attitudes and behaviors have been a historical presence and persist even still.

In a world that oftentimes makes no sense at all, a quick recollection of the humanity I have been gifted brings me back to the possibility of an original rejection of all that is ugly and unjust. There is no simple solution or answer, but it’s important to begin anew. We can begin as parents, as neighbors, as coworkers—whatever role we find ourselves in throughout the day, to outstretch our arms in decency and open the door to our homes. We are amidst a great chance to redefine what home means. There is a perpetual resilience in the revival of kindness. Let’s begin now, while there’s still time.

Get to know your neighbor, it may be a surprise just how far your zip code reaches.

Savanna is a graduate of Oregon State University with a degree in Social Science. She lives in Austin, Texas where she works at the Texas School for the Blind and Visually Impaired. She likes cactus plants, wiener dogs and seeing live music.

The post Everyone Is a Neighbor: Travel and Generosity appeared first on Newfound.

I’m going for a road trip on my own, to my new home. I cross the desert into Texas. My sense of self is shifting, as I leave my hometown and find a new environment many miles away. My sense of place is being shaken (at will, but that doesn’t make it less scary.)

I find that outside of my existential fear of change, there is great anxiety in the logistics of being a woman in unfamiliar places, on the road, at rest stops and in the world.

Fear in a woman’s world is real. It is palpable and it can have a crippling effect on the ways we orient ourselves, how we conduct our business and where we go, especially in locations we are foreign.

I am encouraged by friends to be adventurous but to just be aware.

This is a woman’s trouble: to be aware of a world that requires fear before action or confidence, before dreaming, before leaving the house, before picking an outfit and certainly before drinking.

So I think: If I have fear, as a cisgender, heterosexual, able-bodied, white woman, who else is afraid?

I spoke to a gay friend of mine a few days ago, after the Orlando massacre, and he told me he has found himself unusually aware of his surroundings because he is afraid. The language he used was notably similar to what people have said to me about this upcoming road trip: awareness is key to safety. It’s worth pointing out that every time I’ve traveled, with girlfriends or solo, I am reminded each time, by all kinds of people, to be aware.

Be aware of my body, what time it is, where I am, where my money is, how I’m dressed, and more. I realize that basic awareness and common sense is vital to all people’s existence and modes of living. I also recognize a pattern of language that appears to be saved for certain people (read: those of us who are conditioned to be afraid for our own safety because we are visible targets for violence or assault or discrimination).

If awareness is meant to keep us safe, then it could explain why it’s popular to say she was drunk or wearing slutty clothes and this is why she was the target of  rape and sexual assault.

If just be aware means “don’t find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time”, then I want to ask, who finds themselves in a wrong place, at a wrong time?

Women
Women of color
Queer and Transgender people
Disabled people
(and more, or any intersection of these)

Why are we telling those listed above to be aware instead of those who act out, perpetuate and condone violence, domination and abuse? Because I am aware, my gay friends are aware, my transgender friends are aware, my friends of color are aware.

Home is a safe place to me (and for this I am fortunate). As I leave this safe place and venture into places unknown, I am aware of myself, what I am wearing, where I will be, what to avoid, on and on and on.

When fear rules logistics, availability, location and more, it means those of us who have been conditioned to know and learn fear, feel unwelcome where we have every right to be. It is a privilege to feel safe everywhere and for those who enjoy this privilege, it is time to be aware that safety should be a right, a universal truth instead of a peace of mind, body and spirit shared only by a few lucky folks.

Possessing a sense of self without limitation is powerful. Embodying a sense of place without domination or oppression is revolutionary.

It is time to employ the idea and live the truth that being aware means we can live together, without violence, assault or abuse, and that whoever may desire to sleep in an open field, to travel west or walk freely at night is unabridged in their ability to do so with the knowledge that to just be aware is a beloved task the community upholds in the honor of all its travelers and residents.

Savanna is a recent graduate of Oregon State University in Social Science. She created the blog Sex, Politics & Social Justice as an in-process learning project to gain political insight through the lens of intersectional feminism. She is moving to Austin, Texas where she hopes to expand her experience in the world and continue writing.

The post Just Be Aware: The Politics of Traveling Alone appeared first on Newfound.