The work of the people

“Do you think I can still live here when I’m 30 or will the right-wing government have deported people like me?” a student asked me in history class last week.

A lot more anxious questions followed.
“What will I have to do to prove that I’m German enough?”
“Where should I go back to? I have no other home than this.”

“People like me.” – This means the majority of my students. Second or third generation migrants from forty different nations. Refugees from the horrors of the wars in Iraq, Afghanistan and Syria. People with stories of flight, persecution and the struggle to make a home elsewhere. Youngsters with questions of identity, origin and belonging. They have an immense treasure of cultures inside of them and have overcome so much to be here.

A debate flared up when the news broke last week of a secret meeting between right-wing extremists and conservative groups to plan the deportation of “people not integrated enough” in order to create a “pure Germany” (I put words into quotation marks because they often reflect Nazi rhetoric, which should’ve been banned from our vocabulary long ago).
This meeting is yet another peak of a long journey towards radicalization and nationalist ideals. It is one we’ve seen all around our European neighbors and other Western countries. It is a wake up call for all of us to realize that democracy is not set in stone and maybe more endangered than we’d imagined.

The fascist past screams so loudly in today’s news of secret meetings, populist politicians and openly extremist propaganda. The brown might have been painted over with blue, notions of “protection” and “conservatism”, but the message is still the same nationalist, fascist, homophobic, destructive poison.

Democracy means work of the people – and I am convinced more than ever that all of us need to do this work.

It could mean to march on the streets and demonstrate.
It could mean to show our faces and raise our voices.
It could mean to speak up when propaganda, fake news and half-truths spread in our conversations, news or online.
It could mean to realize that democracy should not be taken for granted and to educate others about democratic values.

As a teacher, I wonder what this would look like in my classrooms. What should we teach?

We need to talk about history and its terrible consequences
It might not be everyone’s favorite subject and for a long time, history has been taught as a mere collection of boring dates and facts. But when you zoom out and put events into perspective, you realize that the past has more impact on the present than you’d probably imagined.
We learn about the dark years of wars, and destructive concepts like racism, antisemitism and dictatorship.
We learn how the strife for national unity and belonging morphed into nationalism and exclusion.
We learn about the long struggle for diversity, freedom and human rights.
We learn about the accomplishments of peace, people’s power and modernity.

Learning about the past from multiple angles shows us how complex situations often were and still are, but also that life is never linear or without hope. And only when we make these connections, we can do better not to let history repeat itself.

We need to create space for emotions and the people behind them
The students in our classrooms are no automated robots but people with feelings. Growing up in a VUCA* world comes with a lot of emotional baggage and it is just all too natural that young people experience uncertainty, anxiety, helplessness and a lot of questions. Maybe even anger and frustration.

Before we talk about the big questions in life, we need to meet our students where they are.
This might mean to open up space for questions that won’t be answered immediately.
This might mean to allow room for raw emotions and tears.
This might mean to just sit with them in discomfort instead of stepping in right away.
This might mean to step away from the idea that teachers have to know and fix everything.

Students need a place where they can open up and process their unfinished thoughts and emotions. If they’re not allowed to think out loud or have to repress what they feel, it could cause great damage to their own sense of self as well as the people around them. Learning to recognize and deal with your own emotions is part of the journey to mature adulthood.
Our schools should become such places.

* VUCA is a term coined by economists to describe the state of our world. The abbreviation spells out into volative – uncertain – complex – ambiguous.

We need to practice and foster ambiguity tolerance
Merriam-Webster’s dictionary defines ambiguity as something “that can be understood in two or more possible ways”. In a world of heated debates and cancel culture, we have somehow forgotten to truly listen to each other and allow space for several statements to be true. We no longer differentiate between facts and opinions, algorithms have created echo chambers in which we only hear what aligns with our own worldview.

Instead of walking away when we hear dissenting opinions, we need to take steps towards each other, as uncomfortable and challenging that might be at times.
Instead of excluding everything that does not fit into our own picture, we might have to invite other voices to the table and let them tell their stories.
Teach how to check facts and classify different opinions.
Relearn patience to really listen to one another and ask questions before passing judgment.
Give ourselves time to think before blasting out half-cooked statements.
Invest in face-to-face conversations instead of energy draining battles online. Accept that there could be more than one answer and not consider this a threat. Seeing the whole spectrum of facts and opinions might open up a whole new perspective on the world and its beauty that is waiting for us to discover it – together.

Democracy calls us to do the work, everyone in their own homes, work places and public spheres. Shall we get started?

One Thousand One Hundred and Thirty Five

One thousand one hundred and thirty five.
1135 is the amount of people who went to work one morning in Dhaka/Bangladesh in April 2013 and never came back. Just like every other person, they wanted to make money to take care of they families and have a future. So they worked insane hours in the most horrible conditions and were separated from their families for many months to somehow make ends meet. They remained unseen until this day in April when their factory building collapsed and buried them under it. 

Why should an incident that happened so far away from our home turf touch us?

These men and women were making clothes, shoes, bags and other kinds of accessories we enjoy buying from companies with big names. They suffered and sadly lost their lives to provide a luxury that we so often don’t even know how to handle. 

This tragic incident has touched people all around the world and compelled them to take action. Things like the Fashion Revolution Week that wants to raise awareness for this issue that includes us all.
They speak about where we buy our clothes and how much we actually need.
They ask big labels to be more transparent about their production line and a look behind the scenes.
They push for legislation that is beneficial for both producer and consumer.
They help us understand the ugly truth: We are the ones who benefit from this broken system, so we are also the only ones who can change the system. 

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Maybe it makes you uncomfortable to think about these questions.
Maybe it takes a bit of work to do your research before you buy.
Maybe you will have to give up a bit of comfort to change the way you buy and consume. 

Maybe this topic touches something inside of you that you rather stay away from.
A sense of responsibility.
A wind of change.
A nudge to action. 
A step towards transformation. 

That’s the day they become seen.
That’s the day their voice becomes heard.
And it should roar like a lion, demanding a change. 


Writing for Five Minute Friday today.

There are many ways for you to participate in the Fashion Revolution Week (and beyond).
Ask the brands you wear #whomademyclothes.
Choose companies that produce ethically (a list can be found here).
Buy second-hand or go to a clothes-trade.
Think about how much you really need and treasure what you already have.  

Why “I Don’t Care” Is Not Enough

Over the past few months, something has been growing inside of me.
It started with an irritation, a slight feeling of discomfort.
The more I found out, the more I could sense anger rising inside of me, slowly making its way to the surface.
Fear seeping into every pore of my body until it has made me cold and numb.

Nationalist states who want to build walls around their countries.
People who close their doors and hearts to those in need.
Customers who buy cheap products at the expense and suffering of all the many.
Politicians who consider their reputation and position more important than common welfare.
Decisions that put democracy at risk.
So many young people who believe their voices won’t really matter.

Once you see, you cannot go back.
The darkness of this world cannot be unseen. 

It would be an all too natural reaction to give up and twiddle our thumbs.
To hide in the corners and stay as far away from it all as possible.
To detach from what’s going on and stop reading the news altogether.
To say, “I don’t care because I simply can’t handle it.”

And yes, sometimes we need to say no and create clear boundaries for our own sanity.
In fact, I wrote an entire series on this whole concept.

But in the midst of all this hopelessness and despair, there’s something else springing up in me.

The world we live in is a fragile construct, a precious gift we’ve been given as stewards. 
It will not be changed by the bystanders and do-nothings. 
It will not become a whit better if all of us will stop caring. 
It will not become any brighter if we all hide our lights under the table. 

So let’s raise our voices for the issues that get your blood boiling.
Let’s shine a light on the darkness of this world and create awareness instead of hiding in our ignorance.
Let’s protect the good that has been given to us and be grateful for the many undeserved gifts everyday.
Let’s educate ourselves to sharpen our tongues and minds for the debates that will be coming.
Let justice roll like a stream of mighty water and revive what has once been gloomy and dead.
Let’s remind each other that in the midst of our brokenness, there’s the One who will all things well someday and that our anger will not be left unanswered. 


Writing for Five Minute Friday today.

Why We Walk

We walk for the boy who has to exchange his toy for a gun.
We walk for the boy who lost his childhood to another meaningless war.
We walk for the girl who was taught that she is worth nothing.
We walk for the girl whose innocence is stolen from her as she sits in front of the webcam, naked and exposed.
We walk for the man who risks his health in mines as he inhales toxic air.
We walk for the man who is locked behind bars for simply telling the truth.
We walk for the woman who leaves her children behind to find a better life in the city.
We walk for the woman who feels like an empty, soul-less shell everything someone rapes her.

We walk for all the people who are enslaved in sweatshops and mines, trafficked into sex work and prostitution, caught in abusive and destructive relationships.
We walk for all those who don’t seem to have a choice and so often have no hope for the future.
We walk for all those whose voices have been silenced.

We walk to shine a light on hidden atrocities,
expose crime
and
speak resurrection
and
hope into the darkness.

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Images by  Sarah Klinke Photography & Art

We walk for freedom.
Because we have this privilege responsibility and cannot be still until every human being has it, too. 

Once a year.
One day in October.
In different languages, styles and time zones.
One message: until everyone is free. 
That’s why we walk.

For more information, check out International Justice Mission, A21 or Endit. Join us next year on October 19, 2019!


Writing for Five Minute Friday today.

This Is Not What My Life Was Supposed to Be Like (On Turning Thirty)

I turned thirty last week – a time to look back and reflect on the big things in life. 

I distinctly remember the first day at university, when I walked around campus and saw students dipping their feet into the fountains at The Square. They sat together in little groups, laughed about something and obviously enjoyed their life. I was twenty-one and had just moved to the city to open yet another chapter in my life’s story. 

And I remember imagining what the next few years would look like: I would complete my studies quickly and then move abroad for work. I would meet new people and we’d be the best of friends who make embarrassing and beautiful memories that would last forever. I would find a handsome guy and we’d get married until we started our own family around thirty. Together we would roam this planet, always in search of our next adventure. I would say later that my twenties were the best years of my life. 

Fast forward a couple of years.

Even though I was never really sure if I wanted to be a teacher, I discovered that I enjoy teaching very much and I might stay a while. So I still live in Germany, have become a full-fledged teacher and just moved into my first ‘grown-up’ apartment. I own a dishwasher and seem to be really settled.
I have graduated from university with a lot of effort and good grades, but all of this had its price. After my finals I had a burnout because I hadn’t taken care of myself. In times when I needed them the most, I had to say goodbye to a few dear friends and learn that some relationships are not meant to last.
There have been countless weddings I have attended and many happy moments when I rejoiced with friends and their kids, but with the years I couldn’t help but wonder why I am still alone. Nor the fear of always being on my own.
I have walked through the valley with friends and had to let go of seemingly strong foundations. I wrestle with questions and doubts why and how I can live my faith in this complex world.

No, this is not what my life was supposed to be like. 

As I take a walk down memory lane, different images flash before my inner eye. 

The many packed bags and suitcases that carry us from one apartment to the next and accompany us from one continent to a completely different culture. A symbol for the tension of having no real home and longing for the world that’s lingering inside of me. 

The five of us squeezed into too small cars or way too little motorbikes riding through the African jungle. Sleeping in tiny rooms and having improvised breakfasts on hotel beds. The many days and nights when we come together from all over, holding our bellies from laughing so hard and forgetting that we’re all adults by now. No matter how scattered we are: It’s always us five against the world. 

The delayed flight to Johannesburg where my twenty-year old self lives away from my family for the first time. I am culturally challenged, but gain a better understanding of myself as a TCK and my role in this world. 

Sweet memories of late nights with study friends watching movies, cycling around town and discovering what food can do for a person’s soul. 

The tiny bundle of fluff who made me a godmother and grew into such a brave, funny, intelligent boy. I can hear his chuckling laugh long after I have to leave again. 

All those weekends with my TCK family that leave all of us physically exhausted but emotionally filled to the brim. Because it’s exactly this: We have become family; people who share similar experiences and honest questions about home, identity and belonging. 

The breathtaking beauty of canyons, oceans and landscapes in all the countries I was lucky enough to travel. I have swum in all the seven seas, overcame my fear of water to go diving and climbed mountains. I got to live with people from all across the world and discovered that they are the real adventure. 

The first TCK conference I attended completely clueless only to be blessed by people who took me under their wings and taught me about the vastness and beauty of the TCK world. Together we have pulled off quite a few conferences and learned from experts all across Europe. 

What started out as a temporary student job became an unexpected learning experience when I ended up organizing a congress for several thousand people and was surprised how much responsibility people trusted me with. 

I have come to understand the necessity of saying No which enables me to say Yes to the right things and invest my time, thoughts and money into causes that really matter. I learn to treasure the beauty of admitting, “I don’t know.” 

I have learned to take better care of myself and open my eyes for the many blessings already out there. God was and is bigger than my concepts, questions and doubts. When I pay attention to it, I am overwhelmed by mundane gifts and the faithfulness of old companions. 

In times when saying goodbye to friendships and much-loved beliefs became really painful, I discovered writing as a helpful way to reflect and process. Many people blessed me with their encouragement and comments on-and offline, but I never imagined that my writing would end up in a book. 

I sense for the first time what it means to settle down at one place for a while and create a home – a feeling unknown, yes even forbidden, for a TCK. I meet the right people at the right time who challenge me to take risks, to stay and rest, to give something of myself. I can talk to friends who feel the same and we wait in this uncertainty together.

Why do I write these things? I don’t want to brag about myself and everything I have achieved. No, these stories are a reminder for myself to not lament the things I don’t seem to have, but to celebrate that my life has turned out so different from what I imagined it to be all these years ago. 

My life is full.
Full with tasks that challenge and inspire me.
Full with loving, creative and inspiring people who join me along the way and enrich my life with their presence, actions and words. 

My life is deep.
In the midst of my hunger and desires I discover gratitude that brings a new depth to my life. 

My life is rich.
Rich with experiences with and in this world.
Rich with memories of all the necessary steps that have brought me here.
Rich with dreams and excitement for what’s to come. 

My life is a collection of puzzle pieces which challenge me at times, but make everything more colorful, meaningful, beautiful. 

No, this is not what my life was supposed to be like.
But life is good. 

Can Women Make Themselves?

I am surrounded by amazing women.
Ladies who live their lives courageously and follow their dreams with a wild heart.
Women who don’t give up when crisis hits them and walk through the valleys with dignity until they come out stronger on the other side.
Friends who open up and entrust me with their pain, their secrets, their dreams.
Wonderful men and women who walk this path alongside me and speak truth when I need to hear it the most.
My grandmother became a widow in her 50s and had to manage an entire farm on her own. If you need to know anything about tough life and love, she’s your girl.

My mother who would always say, ‘Women make themselves’, and challenged me to speak my mind and not limit myself in what I could do, may it be to set up a shelf or travel around the globe.

Women can do a lot of wonderful things, but we can’t do it all. 

We live in the 21st century, but sometimes I wonder if our minds are stuck somewhere in the Middle Ages. In our self proclaimed ‘postmodern society’, where equality and tolerance stand above it all, we still experience that women are not treated equally as men, let alone as human beings.
Women who are told from an early age on, ‘You can’t do this, you’re just a girl.’
Women who should have a career and still be the perfect mom at home.
Women who do the same work for less money.
Women who are stared at and judged for the way they look.
Women who are sold into enslaved prostitution so that others can satisfy their perverted needs.
Women who are beaten because they don’t obey their husbands.
Women who are seen as ‘little helpers’ and do all the work while others don’t lift a finger. Women who are supposed to function because men are supposed to enjoy themselves. Women who are expected to be everything and yet appreciated for nothing.
Women who are shamed into becoming something they don’t want to be because they’re too afraid to be themselves.

We have lamented this misery.
We have protested and been looked down upon with a complacent smile.
We have been promised better things, a quota in every work place.

But that’s not what we want.
That’s not what we need.
Unless our minds – and that includes men AND women – change, all policies are empty words. We together are the only ones who can bring about real transformation.


Writing for Five Minute Friday today.

In Search of Something Else

I’ve lived in my neighborhood for almost two years now.
I know my way around, I know the grocery stores and where to get good coffee.
I have found a few ‘favorites’ already.

But in the last few weeks I have pushed myself to explore a bit more where I live. Discover new places, new secrets, new treasures.
Just this morning, on my way home from the farmer’s market, I took a turn I hadn’t taken before and ended up in a beautiful little side alley with old houses and colourful summer flowers.

There’s always more and I want to live my life exploring and discovering everything this world has to offer.

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When life pushes me around and clouds my vision, I want to search for beauty in the mundane.
When they say, ‘people will never change’, I want to look closer, listen in and challenge others to be the best they can be.
When a story seems to have ended, I want to see how the narrative continues.
When my view of God is limited by what people have told me, I want to explore new ways to seek and find him.
When they say, ‘refugees deserve to drown in the Mediterranean’, I want to raise my voice for those who are silenced.
When they say, ‘Let’s close our borders and shut out doors’, I want to open my hands and heart to those who come with nothing.
When I experience fear, mistrust and hatred all around me, I want to speak up louder, love more fiercely, live even braver. 

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There are many ways to live this life.
May our ways always be marked by love.


Writing for Five Minute Friday today.

 

For Those Who Are Weak

“I’ve seen video content of a child that’s the same age as mine being raped by an American man that was a sex tourist in Cambodia.

“And this child was so conditioned by her environment that she thought she was engaging in play.” Continue reading “For Those Who Are Weak”

The Terrible Difference of Now

Now.
Now we are in the final days before Christmas. Our houses are filled with candle light and the smell of Christmas cookies. We are rushing through the department stores in search of the perfect presents and let’s hope we don’t forget anyone. We spend hours planning the Christmas meal. After a long and busy year we just long for a few quiet days with family, rest and peace.
This is our now. Continue reading “The Terrible Difference of Now”

[Five Minute Friday] Yes

Yesterday a picture went viral. 
A police officer carrying the dead body of little boy out of the Mediterrenean sea in Turkey. The boy had tried to flee across the sea and had drowned in a boat that’s been way too small and way too old for such a precious load.
This is not the first incident, it’s just the peek of inhumanity in a series of terrible events going on in Europe at the moment. People trying to enter our countries, and all they hear is NO.
NO to a place to stay.
NO to something to eat.
NO to transport.
NO to a job.
NO to them as people, as human beings who have something to offer to this world and community.
The daily news of burned down refugee homes, aggressive demonstrations and the most horrible posts on social media make it hard to believe in a bright future, in something better to come.
There’s just NO and uncertainty.

But in all that darkness, in the midst of desperation, there’s a YES.
A YES that resounds from the beginning of time when it was first spoken.
The YES that the One God uttered and then made people.
YES to create fragile, tempted, vulnerable, often horrible, hurting human beings.
YES to beloved children who make a lot of mistakes and are more lost than they would ever know, yet are also more saved than they will ever dare to hope.

His YES starts ringing like a whisper in our hearts, gaining strength until it fills our entire being.
He said YES to us. And His YES can give us the courage, faith, and strength to say YES to others.
YES to welcoming people into our countries.
YES to opening our doors to them.
YES to listening to their stories, holding their hands when they’re shaking with fear.
YES to giving away food, housing, any kind of support.
YES to mirroring Jesus in places of despair and uncertainty. 
Let there be YES and a bit more hope in this broken, broken world.

If you’re as disgusted and compelled as me by the happenings in Europe at the moment, please check out more resources. And pray, if that’s all you can do.

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Writing for Five Minute Friday today.