By Virginia Eader, School's Out Washington MSW Student Intern
It’s been a few weeks since this year’s Bridge conference. I’ve spent the time since then rifling through my stack of handouts and notes, reflecting on everything that I learned from the powerful two days. The workshops I attended were inspiring, the networking was great, the food delicious, and working with the SOWA team to put it all together was an amazing experience. There is so much I took away from Bridge that I could probably write five different blog entries about it. Yet, in light of this year’s conference theme of Racial Equity, I find it necessary to reflect on this one particular moment.
I attended the workshop The Refugee Project: Walk in My Shoes, which was facilitated by World Relief. After a short lesson on a refugee’s process to freedom and realizing some harsh realities (there is only a half of a percent chance that a refugee will make it through the long process to a new home), we proceeded with the Walk-in-My-Shoes part of the workshop. Divided into groups, we were given a duffel bag, a photo album, and written instructions. Each group was to become refugees for the next hour and a half.
I have to admit that I felt a bit uncomfortable with the idea of “pretending” to be a young refugee seeking asylum. As a white person of privilege born and raised in the United States, my connection to experiences of a refugee fleeing a war torn country are minimal. The thought of “dressing up” as a refugee and pretending like I was having a similar experience seemed to only reinforce the relationship of power and oppression. At the same time, I understood the purpose of the workshop and the assimilation-style of this lesson, so, with a bit of reluctance, my group proceeded to put on our head scarves and read through our histories.

My group was assigned the lives of five 19 year olds from Sudan traveling together for over 10 years (much like the story of the lost boys of Sudan). Our instructions explained that we would have 15 minutes to prepare before beginning our journey to the refugee camp, which was located outside the hotel in downtown Seattle.

After many looks from those passing by, we arrived to “the camp” a few blocks from the Sheraton where we were not so warmly welcomed (by an actor) and told to wait in line and be quiet until our names were called. Each group would proceed to a different station representing the different levels of the process refugees must endure to get a new home. There was the State Department Interview, Medical Examination, and Feeding Station.
Standing in line for our group interview the woman from the “State Department” called us one by one and asked a series of questions in tone of voice that showed very little respect. After accusing our group of not having our story straight she sent us to the “feeding station” where we received a small cup of lentils and a stack of card board with rope for our shelter.

As the man at the feeding station was explaining where we needed to go to set up shelter (which was hypothetically several miles walking distance from the camp) a security guard suddenly appeared and began yelling at us. “You need to leave, RIGHT NOW!” he said multiple times. We all looked at each other, confused, thinking at first that this was another actor participating in the experience, but soon realizing otherwise. He called for back-up on his radio. It wasn’t until the workshop host, who was also participating, took off her head scarf that the security guard changed his tone. We realized in that moment that we had just experienced a very real form of discrimination. As we walked back to the hotel we all seemed to be processing what had just happened. We returned to the workshop room to debrief and could sense a very intense feeling in the room as we reflected and made connections.
Now I’ve thought about this experience a lot since then, replaying it in my mind, and even trying to legitimize or justify the security guards behavior. But the truth is, regardless of his intentions, the impact was strong. For those few minutes, I experienced just a tiny glimpse of what refugees, immigrants, people of color and non-dominant cultures deal with on a daily basis. And for this, I am greatly impacted.
While we enjoyed two days of thoughtful and inspiring speakers and dialogue around what it means to submerge Racial Equity work into everything we do as Afterschool and Youth Development professionals, we must not lose sight or momentum. There is work to be done just outside of the Bridge conference doors, within our own organizations or programs and everywhere around us.
School's Out Washington has followed up with the property management where this incident occurred.