I can’t remember where I first heard that quote but it has stuck for a while now. Imagine you were eating your favourite meal and one of your friends saw it, looked utterly disgusted and screamed ‘yucky!’ Or ‘ewww!‘ and went on to express how they detest the food.
This very act is rather disrespectful and it makes the person the least comfortable when it comes to completing the meal.
I do like food, especially colourful ones. And whenever I’m inspired, I do a little cooking of my own and try out new recipes. You can understand why I can’t complete the challenge without a post on food, LOL.
That said, I’ve been guilty of yucking what others consider yummy and over time I’ve realized how uncomfortable it makes people feel. They wouldn’t want to eat such around me and that’s just sad! I’ve also had my own fair share of having my food mix-ups called yucky. Saying a food is yucky when the person eating it, or who cooked it considers it yummy is just wrong!
If you’ve got such a strong opinion about someone else’s food, keep it to yourself.
But it’s not just food. It goes on to different tastes in music, fashion, ideologies, beliefs, cultures and general lifestyle. Some of us have yucked other people’s yum because we don’t just get how they would like that type of food, music or that type of hairstyle! Like really, who still carries jheri curls in the 21st century? Of course, some people do. But I don’t like the hairstyle and I wouldn’t wear it. Still, that doesn’t give me the right to express my detestation to someone who clearly has that as a favourite hairstyle.
So what if you like hip hop songs and I prefer pop? I shouldn’t go about telling you how yucky your songs are and neither should you. And if you like fur coats but I prefer leather- I shouldn’t go about yucking your taste and reminding you of all the animals that had to die to make your coat. Same goes to beliefs, cultural differences and so on.
As our faces are different so are our desires. We wouldn’t always have the same favourites. I’m sure you know by now that bread and tea is my favourite meal of all time, but I’ve still met people who consider it yucky. Like how could you? *hands on my waist, standing akimbo *
Now where was I before I digressed into bread and tea? Aha! We are all different with different tastes. The true beauty of life lies in accepting the differences and loving each other all the same. You don’t necessarily have to make the other person’s food or lifestyle your favourite, but you can let them know theirs is in no way inferior to yours.
As a matter of fact, some of such foods I once yucked have slowly crept into my list of yummy food when I tried them. That music you really dislike may actually be really lovely if you listen to it with an open mind. That hairstyle may not be so bad after all. That lifestyle that disgusts you may just be the best way the person expresses themselves. So try not to yuck another person’s yum.
It’s always my desire that you live victoriously! ❤
It’s day 24 of the A-Z Challenge! Only 2 days to go! Thank you Lord! 😀
Thanks for the topic choice by Chile. It looked a little tough for me as I hate to delve into political issues or racism and the like. But then I saw the Greek translation of the word which is a ‘fear of strangers or foreigners’. Webster’s dictionary also defines xenophobia as the fear or hatred of strangers or foreigners. If I were to look at this politically, I would probably examine countries which are hostile to foreigners partly because they feel the foreigners are there to take what rightfully belongs to the indigenous people. Now that’s a whole web I rather not dive into.
So what do you think of strangers generally? Imagine you’re walking on a deserted street and some random dude starts walking towards you. Do you wait and indulge in a conversation or do you pick your steps and scurry along? I don’t know if it’s just me, but I would scurry along. All I would be hearing in my head is ‘stranger danger!’
I fear strangers. Come on! I’ve seen too many movies of people being kidnapped in white vans to get past that possibility. I would not likely stop at the call of a stranger while walking down the road.
But let’s get back to context. What’s it about foreigners even in our individual none ‘xenophobic’ countries? Why do we give them ‘the look’?
Yeah, I know you’ve given that look before when you see some foreigner. Like dude, why is your skin so white? Or why are you so short? Or why are you so black? Why is your hair so coarse?
Do you consider yourself as one who would make friends first with the new exchange student in class? Or would you rather guard your territory and stick to the faces you’re used to?
It’s almost safe to say we would react differently when it comes to strangers. We may not be hostile as in the case of xenophobic countries but a part of us will feel slightly cheated if that foreigner begins to take the first position or maybe gain a political office meant only for the indigenes.
So what’s the remedy?
Love conquers all and perfect love casts out fear.
There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love. -1 John 4:18
The fear of strangers is definitely not of God and we sure need love to get past it! So the next time you’re privileged to be in the same class with an exchange student or work alongside someone of a different nationality, instead of being overcome by xenophobia, overcome the fear with love.
Love your neighbours as yourself; Remember that dude in the Bible who asked Jesus who his neighbour was? Yeah, so Jesus told him a story of someone who was robbed and left wounded on the road and some pious men passed but looked away. And this foreigner came along and helped him. (Luke 10:25-37)
You never know when you’ll be in need of help and they may just be the only ones who can help you at that point. Accept the foreigners around you and treat them well. Be kind to them.
I know my thoughts are slightly all over the place but I just want you to take this with you; perfect love casts out fear. And perfect love casts out xenophobia. Love a stranger/foreigner and be kind towards them.
For the letter V, I decided to do a form of redefinition to ensure my vision for the blog is clear and concise.
Victorious living has been the ultimate goal for this blog. You can read the intro on this page.
The dictionary defines victory as an act of defeating an enemy or opponent in a battle, game, or other competition.
Victory often comes from overcoming battles and wars. When you say you’re living victoriously, you’re saying ‘hey, the devil came at me with all the forces he could harness but I stood with the full armour of God and the backing of the most high’.
Victorious living isn’t handed on a platter of gold. It’s a constant battle. A battle against fear, against depression, against addictions, against the sin that so easily pull us down, against persecutions and temptations- against the devil and his stealth agents. A battle we must fight. A war we must win.
Those who live victoriously have scars to show, wounds to heal, and tougher battles to face. It’s like a game where you start with the easy level one and with each conquest, you go higher to face tougher enemies. When you’ve won the easy level, don’t fold your hands because the devil is always quick to recoup. He will come at you fiercer than before.
So you just won the battle over addictions, wonderful! The devil would come at you with the real deal. The temptress who would subtly snare onlookers into a deadly trap. If you’re yet basking in the euphoria of overcoming addictions, you might just miss the traps set for you. Flop! You’re back to level one. Now that’s just an example but I hope you get the drift.
This blog, through its contents, seeks to show readers of the constant battles I also face and how God causes me to triumph in all things. I’ve never liked the battles, but I’m fully aware the only way I get to the next level is to overcome the devil I see manifested in the works of flesh and so on. I’ve been stuck in some levels for a long time. Feels like I’m just not gonna destroy the enemy in that regard. Almost seems the enemy is die hard- can I get a witness? But no worries, for greater is He that is in us than he that is in the world. We will overcome as long as we don’t surrender.
As I said previously, one can never really arrive and say ‘hey, I’m done with all the battles’ (well, except in death). The whole earth is a war-zone and your mind is the battleground. Stay alert! Remember for every next level, there is a next devil, more vicious than the last.
But thank God for victory! For we do not fight on our own. Take a look at David’s life. Do you think he won all those battles alone? Definitely not! He fought and won because God fought on his behalf. Stick with God and live victoriously. Once again I say, stick with God and live victoriously.
I see her every day. Playing at the same spot. Alone.
She intrigues me by her frailty. Her shoulder slopes like she’s been carrying some burden. Maybe she has. She has been writing something on the ground. She always does. My feet begin to move on their own accord, leading me to her.
‘Hello, what are you writing?’ I ask.
‘I’m drawing, not writing’ she blandly replies.
Obviously, I could see she was drawing. She drew skulls. She also drew what looked like disfigured humans with hanging limbs.
What she drew bothered me. How could a child be so disturbed?
‘Mom!’ I could hear the screeching sound of my daughter’s voice from behind me. I immediately retreated to where she was.
‘What were you doing with that weirdo?’ She asked with a grimace.
If my 9 year old child could call her ‘weird’, then there was a problem.
‘Why do you call her weird?’ I couldn’t help but ask.
‘Well, she sits at the back of the class, she doesn’t talk to anyone and when she does, she’s rude. She also talks to herself like a total weirdo.’ My daughter responded.
‘Is that all?’ I asked, obviously disappointed.
‘Mom, nobody talks to her.’
‘Who are her parents?’ I inquired further.
‘She’s only got a mom. My classmates say she’s a bastard’
Instinctively, I corrected my child and told her never to call the girl derogatory names.
‘Mom, why are you getting all worked up about her? She’s no good news.’
I stared at my daughter for a brief moment. A part of me wanted to smack her for the guts she had to keep replying me. At least that’s what my mother would have done to put me back on the right track. Doing that right here would only be my ticket to jail. Thanks to the laws in the States.
I ponder on a lot of things like what would happen to my African culture and traditions. I left home for a little above ten years. I took up an English name, got married to an amazing Nigerian who spent his whole life in the States. My skin is black but my mind is white. Not in the terms of black is for wrong and white for right. More in terms of being westernized while my skin cries for home.
Back to me being stymied from spanking my child. I turned back to look at the object of my thoughts. She had disappeared from the playground.
‘Karen, when we get home, go and search for 20 bible verses on showing kindness to people’ I faced my daughter squarely. ‘Don’t use the internet for this’ I quickly added.
Her face fell as she got into the front seat of the car.
‘I’m sorry mom’. She was smart enough to know when I was upset. At least the thousands of dollars spent on her education paid off.