Growing up in North America, especially back in the early 90s when there were only 25 to 30 habeshian families in our city and no habeshian students at my school, I often felt like an outsider. I felt the pressure to fit in with American culture, at school, around classmates, and especially with friends. But no matter how hard I tried, there was a long list of things that set me apart from everyone else.
My name, for starters. You would think it would be easy to pronounce “Selam,” since it is known everywhere. But every teacher I had struggled with it. So each year, on the first day of school, I didn’t just think about what outfit to wear; I had to mentally prepare myself to patiently correct every single teacher.
Then there were the differences in our food, clothing, and language. Every time I wore my habeshian dresses, I silently hoped I wouldn’t run into anyone from school. When my mom cooked, I would politely ask her to skip the onions because I didn’t want my clothes or book bag smelling like them. After all, I had a “school image” to uphold! My mom would give me that classic Habesha mom look and ask, “Do you want us all to eat plain injera?” After all, every traditional dish has onions. I still remember the day I discovered Lysol air freshener; I became their number one customer overnight, spraying everything before leaving the house.
Shopping trips with my parents were another adventure. You know how habesha parents are about language and culture; they speak proudly and loudly, letting the whole store hear them. Before getting out of the car, I’d remind my parents to speak English with me, and if they had to speak Tigrinya, to whisper. One time, I even tried to shhh my dad in the store—definitely the first and last time! I quickly learned: you cannot shhh habeshian parents.
And then, of course, there was the faith part, being a Tewahedo Orthodox girl. Try explaining why our Easter and Christmas celebrations fall on different days, why we fast so often, why we stand in church more than we sit, and why we cover our hair in church. I was constantly reminding others that we are not Muslims; we are proudly Christian Orthodox, rooted in a faith that is rich, beautiful, and deeply meaningful.
Over the years, I’ve come to realize that these differences are not obstacles; they are blessings. When God created us, He gave us identity, culture, and faith. “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Ephesians 2:10, NKJV). Our differences are part of the masterpiece God made in us. As Tewahedo Orthodox girls, we don’t need to try to fit in with the world. Instead, we embrace our culture, celebrate our faith, and shine in the beauty God has given us.
My beautiful Tewahedo Orthodox sister, everywhere you go, stand tall and proud, remembering that you were born to stand out. Let the world see that you are a Tewahedo Orthodox girl—strong in faith, rooted in culture, and fearless in your identity.
Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.
—Matthew 5:16, NKJV—
Selam Seyoum
Don’t fit in when you can stand out. Love that. God bless you
Thanks James!