So I’ve been seeing this guy recently. I really like him. But he’s not sure he wants to stay in Maine in the long term, and not for the reasons that I usually hear from people in their 20s (small-town vibes, lack of economic opportunity, not a ton of young people, nothing open after 8 p.m., et cetera). It’s something else.

He calls it “the Maine stare.” It’s when people look at him – and maybe they think they’re doing it subtly – like they’re trying to figure out what he is, and where he’s from, because surely, he’s not a white guy from Maine. He’s what a Hollywood casting agent would describe as “ethnically ambiguous.” I thought he was Italian before he explained that he had a white parent and a Mexican parent; he’s also been mistaken for Middle Eastern. I don’t think I gave him the stare when we first met, mostly because I was too busy trying not to spill my drink all over myself or choke on my own tongue. (He’s extremely handsome and charming, and I’m a lot more awkward in person than I am in writing, OK?)

But I knew the look he was talking about because I’ve looked at people like that before. I’m not proud of this. My initial defensive emotional reaction is to say: “Well, maybe they’re just curious.” (Translation: Maybe I’m just curious.) And to be fair, in his specific case, people might just be trying to figure out why he’s wearing a black leather jacket in the height of summer. (Because being cool and mysterious doesn’t have a season.) But fixin’ someone with a stare like that is definitely a product of internalized racism. Because sure, being curious about who someone is and where they’re from is a natural human reaction. But let’s be real. I don’t stare at strangers who look like me in that way. And I doubt you do, either.

I can only imagine the damage it does to the psyche to live in a place where people are frequently looking at you like you don’t belong. And I want him to feel like he belongs here. As I mentioned, I hold an embarrassing amount of affection for this guy. I’ve tried playing video games for him, and I hate video games.

I’ve always thought of Maine as a kind and welcoming place, and Mainers as sort of gruff on the outside, squishy on the inside – the types who, when the chips are down, will show up and give you the shirt off their back if necessary. Or, in my case, rescue you from any amount of automobile trouble while on the road. My neighbor Buck mows my lawn with his rider mower because he figured it’d be easier than me doing an acre with my push mower.

But for whom is the welcome mat rolled out? For whom is the door opened? Who gets to feel like they belong here, the way I do?

Look at the way the proposal to temporarily house asylum seekers at the empty Unity College dorms is being received. This makes perfect sense to a practical Yankee like myself – we have people who need a place to stay, we have empty buildings already set up for lodging. And yet. People appear to be freaking out. It’s too many people! Well, didn’t the town absorb hundreds of college students every year?

Sure, an idea like that requires a lot of work and planning in order to make it a success. However, I get the feeling that if it were hundreds of Ukrainians fleeing the war in their home country, the reaction of the local residents would be less “This is going to be hard, we shouldn’t do it” and more “This is going to be hard, let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work.”

Most of the people in need of accommodation in Unity are African asylum seekers fleeing protracted conflicts in their own country. Of course, nobody interviewed says it’s about race. But come on. We all know what’s going on here. A group of white people speaking French is going to be treated by most of us differently than a group of Black people speaking French, even if this is something we’d prefer not to admit.

I’d like to draw particular attention to the quote from the pastor of the Unity Church of Christ, in which he said that he is “definitely opposed to the idea. We should help people, but that’s a lot of people.”

From anyone else, I’d let that slide. But if you’re going to put Christ’s name in your job title and hold yourself out as a representative of his words and works? When 5,000 people showed up to watch Yeshua of Nazareth preach unexpectedly, did he just say, “Nah, that’s too much for me to deal with”? No. He brought out the bread and fish.

I didn’t spend 13 years in Catholic school, including going to Mass, as well as going to Episcopal Mass every Sunday, to watch a wolf clothe himself in a sheepskin like that. If we’re going to talk Jesus, I’d like to point everyone to, well, basically all of Matthew 25, but in particular verse 40: “and the King shall answer and say unto them, verily I say unto you, inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (I like the King James Version of the Bible the best, mostly because it’s very verbally dramatic and full of flourishes.)

Anyway. I may not be able to make Maine a more welcoming place for people of color all by myself, but I’m certainly going to try. Love makes us do strange things, I guess.

Victoria Hugo-Vidal is a Maine millennial. She can be contacted at:
themainemillennial@gmail.com
Twitter: @mainemillennial

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