An Aspiring Polyglot, Avid Fan of Battle Rap and the Avatar the Last AirBender TV Series, and... I Love Jesus

Photo by Tyler Lastovich on Unsplash

So many of my writing projects have been attempts to stretch my thinking prowess.

Ambition has been my m.o. from a young age. No matter how much effort I’ve exerted, I’m never satisfied with the output or the number of things I’m doing, even if they were dope and received as such. Recently the things that have tempered my pathological ambition are reflection and contemplation, which show me how often I drift toward producing things before resting comfortably in being me.

So today is a “getting to know me” post instead of an attempt to write something profound.

I’m an aspiring polyglot. For those who are like, “a poly-what?”, it means many tongues. Yes, that’s right. I aspire to know many languages. This isn’t a surprise to those who follow my social media accounts, but Substack hasn’t been a place I’ve introduced that part of me to yet. Maybe cuz I wanted to have ‘em all down pat so this community ain’t have to know how rough and tedious my process is. I still translate literally words and concepts in my head instead of being able to think like a native speaker would. Nonetheless, I’m getting better.

The languages I’m learning are Spanish, Amharic, and Mandarin.

I have an advantage in Amharic because both of my parents are from Ethiopia. I’ve understood common phrases and comprehended simple stories and longer requests in Amharic even if I had to respond in English to most of them. But speaking Amharic is a different animal. Bizu chigir yise’tenyal. The environment I’m now in, though, has been more conducive for smoothing the rough edges of my Amharic.

Mandarin became an interest because I have many friends from China. The bulk of my friends from elementary school through college were international students and my Chinese friends happened to be the ones I spent the most time with during my college years. I love Mandarin. It’s challenging. It’s fun. It is accessible and when you practice long enough, you’re able to distinguish the tones and create the sounds with your own lips. Ru guo ni xiang xue Zhongwen, wo yao gao su ni na sui ran Zhong wen bu rongyi, yi bu yi bu ni hui jin bu!

Spanish came as a desired language of study because I, like many others, love its sound and its diversity. Whether it’s the “th” sounding “s” in the Espania accent, or the “que lo que’s” of the DR, my ears and my soul have so much fun engaging this language. Its conjugation rules and cases are very similar to Amharic, so the overlap helps me to imagine progreso aunque lento.

I love Battle rap. Some of my favorites are A. Ward (no not just cause I’m a Christian), Rum Nitty, Tay Roc, Hollow Da Don, MyVerse, Ms. Hustle, and Charlie Clips. The art is so powerful to me. Though often aggressive and crude, the deliberate attention to the details not merely of synonyms, homophones, homonyms, and multis but the lives and habits of their opponents showcases battle rappers’ brilliance. Many of them share their stories too. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone from laughter to deep reflection when an MC is pouring out their heart on stage, sharing about how they barely made it and that even though their economic plights and religious trauma almost got the best of them, they’re still here. Meshed between the comedy and heartwrenching stories are often unhinged (outlandish I tell you) statements about the opp’s hairline… or mama… or girl… or, well you get the point. Be warned. Don’t watch expecting to be inspired by morality. lol. I’ve written a lil’ on Battle rap here.

I watched Avatar: The Last Airbender (not the movie, the TV series) 3 years ago when I was in quarantine due to an aggressive case of COVID. 8 of my 15 days locked up were spent marveling at the journey of these young kids taking on a world of violence, colonization, navigating tension, disability, and worth with whim, whit, and amazing maturity at times. The themes of nonviolence and guilt and redemption that are unpacked through unpredictable and lovely storytelling make me shed tears everytime.

Also, I love Jesus. I’ve always tried to avoid being the gushy, affectionate type of Christian. To keep it a buck, I often am not. I wrestle with him often. I doubt him often. Yet, my love for the person of Jesus can never elude me for good, even when I want it to. Here’s what I mean. There is probably no person more analyzed, worshipped, critiqued, and mysterious than One Paul said “the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form” (Col. 2:9, NIV). When you got a resumé this big and wide it’s hard to not have expectations placed on you. It’s hard for humans to bear all the interpretations about this man and come to a cogent position on him. Thus, I’ve lingered in patterns of self-reliance, codependency on my loved ones, and functional rejection of God by eyeing my comfort alone. I was too tired to try other religions, though I was interested in many of their premises and lack of baggage present in Christianity. My doubts, thus far, have only led to my returning to him. Obviously, I’m not the same Ru who loved Jesus when I was five or even in the middle of my college years. Those years my formation in Christ were highly focused on doctrinal input and pure, unemotional certainty. But, now over bouts with mental health, disappointment in God and those who carry the banner of Christ while being insufferable, and disillusionment with self, love for Christ remains because Jesus is able to hold my incogency and lack of answers. I love Jesus not because he’s the last missing puzzle piece I need in my life; it’s because he’s gone through and been everything that was necessary to declare and deliver freedom. A firm foundation, indeed. An empathetic Savior.

It’s the fact through that he’s gone through for me. Like me. I don’t enjoy that he’s suffered. I don’t romanticize his heroic subversion of power that led to his execution. But I love that Jesus is who represents God in my tradition, is God. The Jesus I’ve encountered over again (no, not in the gnostic way) has been found in the outreached hands of my parents when I was in the abyss of despair, through the tender gaze of a friend I wronged deeply, by the kind words and actions of strangers who had no business noticing me. I delight in the imagery and promise of Jesus dwelling in me through the Spirit, whose breathing, hovering, and intractable presence communicate the love of God to me daily when overwhelm assails me. Jesus’ friendship is my lifeline. An embodied, humble God who speaks over us resurrection, reunion, and redemption has this unashamed love of mine.

And, I will always receive warmly confusion and frustration over my love for an invisible being. It presumably looks like foolishness to others who deeply recognize how weaponized Jesus has been. I don’t have a method or intention to slither out of these conversations by replying, “Well, you got the wrong Jesus.” The Christian religion has to take its reputation and continued propagation of violence on the chin and work to recover the integrity Jesus has always been eager to instill in us. I hope to be part of a movement that so desperately wants the love of Jesus to be accessible and to transform.

Aight. this is getting really long. But,

I Luh y’all big time,

Ru.