By Elizabeth

My Kentucky Kitchen Table was held at my house, and five other people joined me. Caroline goes to Murray State University full time and works two jobs to help her save for an upcoming trip to Spain (she is majoring in Spanish and can speak the language very well). She recently went on a trip to London. She is very open about her faith and religious beliefs and found a way to apply those beliefs to our conversations. Sarah, friends with Caroline, also goes to Murray State University. She is running for an office in her sorority and wants to be a teacher. David is a few years older than the rest of us and was born in Japan, but grew up in Alaska and moved to the continental U.S. in high school. He added a very interesting perspective to conversations we had about communities, citizenship, and social issues because of his diverse background. Kennedy just moved to the area from Illinois, and she was quite a bit older as well. She was the comic among the six of us and loved to delve into the minor differences between Kentuckians and Illinoisians that she has picked up once since her move. Hunter, my boyfriend, joined me as well. He is a sophomore at Western Kentucky University and hopes to be an anesthesiologist. He took a more straightforward approach to topics we discussed and easily tied our ideas together.

We began our dinner of homemade baked spaghetti by talking about what it meant to be a citizen or to have citizenship. David noted that what came to his mind was his dual citizenship in the U.S. and Japan. His citizenship gave him rights in his countries of citizenship, and he felt like he should take advantage of those rights in order to be an active citizen. Kennedy shared that she thought citizenship was also about the impact that you make personally in the lives of people in your community or nation. She is a social work major and said she hopes to make a difference and be a better citizen. This led us to talk about the obligations that we felt like we had in our country and if we thought our jobs served a greater purpose.

Kennedy currently does not work, but thinking of her future career as a social worker, she said it was really clear to her that her job served a greater purpose because she would be helping people who otherwise wouldn’t have been helped in that particular way. Hunter, also currently unemployed, mentioned that he felt obligated to help people and to become a doctor because that field of study is what he is good at. I asked him if he felt like other people are obligated to help others by doing what they are good at. He said he thought the world would be a better place if they were, but he felt obligated in that way because of his religious beliefs and understood that not everyone believed the same things that he did. Sarah is a tutor as MSU and helps a number of students with disabilities. She said she hopes she is making an impact on them and encouraging them to make impacts on others. Caroline said that working in a jewelry store allowed her to help people find pieces for very important moments in their lives. She shared a story of a woman coming in to find something for her adopted daughter because her biological father passed away. It was clearly a tricky situation, she said, but she found the perfect bracelet that came with a card explaining the bracelet’s meaning. A few days later, the woman came back in to thank Caroline and told her that her daughter teared up and promised to keep the sentimental piece forever.

Caroline’s anecdote challenged us to think about the little things, like a bracelet, and how we could replicate something that meaningful with our actions in order to solve problems. Hunter argued that small actions won’t fix big problems. He explained that our country needed to think big to solve problems, and that is why he supports our military so much. Kennedy expressed that small actions may not resolve war, but it can bring communities together. I supported her statement with a story of my own about a series of break-ins in my neighborhood. Several families came together to support the ones that had suffered damages or emotional distress. Several men volunteered to camp out to catch the individual, which resulted in the arrest of a man a few nights later.

Our discussion led us to share what were the social issues nearest to our hearts. Sarah shared that the education system has so many flaws and she wishes she could do something to change it because she will soon hate administering standardized tests when she becomes a teacher. She explained she believes standardized tests standardize students. David explained that veterans make up a significant portion of suicides and homeless people every year, which bothers him because his father is a veteran. Caroline told us about a project she did over homelessness that taught her that most homeless people aren’t homeless for any reason that they could have prevented. She went on further and eventually changed all of our perspectives on the issue of homelessness.

My Kentucky Kitchen Table experience reminded me of Paying for the Party because we all had different levels of wealth or different kinds of families, which led us to have different beliefs. We were in a way different from Paying for the Party: we did not let that get in our way of “deliberating” our ways of thinking. The Kentucky Kitchen Table project reminded me of the choreographer in the “Shipyard Project.” It was a medium to bring us together and share experiences, similar to the people sharing their past at the shipyard.

By the end of dinner, I learned that each and every person I was with wanted to move from one end of their own bridge to another. We all had different opinions on the best way to solve problems, and I wondered if our diverse problem-solving strategies were a good thing or not. Should we all work to make the world a better place however we see  fit, or should we discuss and be on the same page when tackling problems? My perspectives definitely changed on many topics, from whether or not a jewelry store is making a difference, or whether or not we should we blame homeless people for putting themselves in a homeless situation. My definition of citizenship did not change, but I was happy to hear other perspectives. Because we all shared our opinions  honestly and openly, we all agreed our perspectives changed even if our opinions did not.

By Brent

My Kentucky Kitchen Table project provided me a way to feel more connected to Bowling Green and get closer to a few of my peers, as well as fellow citizens. For our project, Hillary, Rachel, and I went over to Jennifer’s house for dinner. I also brought a friend, named Tan, who is from Vietnam and is studying at WKU. Our conversation lasted for about three hours and felt unexpectedly natural. No conversation topic felt like it was off limits. 
My partners for this project were phenomenal. When you first meet Hillary, you know that above all, she cares. She cares about how you are and what you believe in. She is naturally inquisitive and passionate. Her love for art and beauty is apparent in the way she lives and it rubs off on the people that she meets. Rachel, an English literature major, has a way with words and her humor is not only witty, but it is insightful as well. She tells a story of love and she preaches equality by her actions. Jennifer is a compassionate soul who lives intentionally and spends her time doing what she loves, which is pouring into the lives of immigrants and Refugees in the greater Bowling Green area. She is a mother, a wife, and a devoted member of society. She asks deep questions and listens with intention. She loves others with few bounds and is an inspiration to many. Tan is an inquisitive and passionate man. His self-prescribed nickname, “Crazy,” fits him well only because he is willing to take big risks and is able to overcome his fears very quickly. Tan has enjoyed the United States very much and hopes to get a business degree in order to start his own business when he returns to Vietnam.  
Our conversation went down many different paths. We began by answering what we thought it meant to be a citizen. Generally, we all agreed that being a good citizen means being involved with as many different types of people and groups as possible. As citizens, it is our job not to run away when things get hard. We are supposed to join together and use our voice to support our beliefs and lift other people up. I really liked Jennifer’s perspective on her life as a citizen because she focused on ways that she sees herself training her two boys on how to be good people and citizens. She also mentioned that being around like-minded people can be a good place to brainstorm, but, in the end, it is better to put yourself out into the world in order to gain a bigger perspective on what it means to live well with others.  
We also talked about the role that loving people plays in being a bigger part of society. We mentioned many simple acts, like being kind to a cashier or being patient at the DMV that go a long way. We all tell a story with the way we live our lives and it is important that that story builds other people up and recognizes everyone’s humanity. We decided that it is important to be humble and recognize that we will never know anyone’s full story. For example, we don’t know what it is like to be born into a country that has been in civil war for over eighty years. We don’t understand the hate that many immigrants and refugees face. So, rather than letting those differences scare us, it is important to face them fiercely and fight for equity.  
I learned a lot from our conversation, but I would say that my biggest takeaway was that it is important for me to meet people who are starkly different from me and be in community with them. I have so much to learn from other people, and I will never be done learning. We talked a lot about how having a face to put to an issue can be powerful for a lot of people. For example, if you have a friend that is a refugee or immigrant, you will naturally want to support laws and legislation that will protect their rights. I also think that I have a responsibility to make sure that more people reach out into the community to make those sorts of personal connection with people who are different from them.  
I also learned from Tan as I watched him interact with the difficult and theoretical conversations we were having. While he didn’t understand all of what we were saying, or why we were saying it, he knew it meant a lot to us and he respected that very much. I was humbled by his willingness to want to learn about other cultures and hear about how people see things like the recent election or holidays. I learned from him that listening is a gift and taking a risk in order connect with people is always worth it, at least for the experience.  
I think that our dinner and this project relate to our class in a few ways. Primarily, I saw that most of our conversation had to do with the idea of a crossing a bridge. We talked about how things are and where we want them to be, but most importantly, ways we thought we could get there. For example, we talked about how communities often respond to tragedy by throwing money and resources at a given problem. This raises issues because it leaves people disconnected and removed from the deeper causes that might be contributing the problems. We decided we wanted communities to be more involved so that when something happens, people know the needs of the victims they are helping and have an idea what their life is like prior to whatever incident might take place. Additionally, we mentioned that people have to become more connected with others who are different from them, spend time in the community, and break down stereotypes. This seems like a lot to ask, but it has to happen for us to be able to move forward as a society. I think that another way our conversation connected to the course was that we talked about how the power of patience is necessary to solve all of the issues we wanted to tackle. It was evident that Jennifer is an extremely patient person and her loves shine through in that way. She will wait on the phone for translators and lawyers to make sure that her friends, many of whom are refugees, aren’t getting taken advantage of and are getting the care and support they deserve. Even during out meal, she was checking up on a friend who was in the hospital for having an appendix removed. I think that, through her, I see how being patient is an act of love, and love makes us the best citizens that we can be. Overall, the experience allowed me to understand the importance of talking about change with people in the community because it made me feel like I had more people on my team and are willing to fight alongside me for what we believe is right.

By Rachael

So because I am from Bowling Green, I originally planned to do my Kentucky Kitchen Table here with family and a few friends or distant relatives for diversity sake. However, that plan went awry. I won’t bore you with all the details (because they are boring and quite anticlimactic), but I ended up rather late in the game without a table. Luckily for me, I’ve met some really wonderful people in this class (looking at you Hilarie and Brent), and they kindly let me crash their dinner. And even though it was very last minute and totally not my plan, as is often the case, the spontaneity and the detour made it all the better.

I’ll get to all that good stuff in a moment, but first, an introduction. As implied by the term “crash,” I did not go in knowing who all would be attending this little soiree. (Just kidding, I looked up that word so I could see how to spell it, and it’s defined as a “fancy evening affair”; our evening was neither fancy nor grand enough to be called an “affair,” but nevertheless.) I obviously knew Hilarie and Brent from class: Hilarie from connecting outside of class because of overlapping friends and common interests and Brent from the social issue paper.

However, there was a lot that I didn’t know about them. For starters, Hilarie is a double major and a double minor. Who knew? And also, how impressive is that? Goodness. Hilarie is not much of a pie person; I know this because I brought an apple and a fudge pie (courtesy our great local bakery Riley’s Bakery). Luckily, she does enjoy ice cream (courtesy of our great local ice cream shop, hangout, and farm Chaney’s Dairy Barn), which made me feel better about my experience earlier in the day when I walked out of the shop, alone, with loads of sweets. (Cute.) Other than the pie thing, Hilarie is a girl much after my own heart—a singer, a social justice discusser, a feminist, and a constant thinker—and has so many talents and assets, not the least of which is her incredible brain and the thoughts that come from it. I so enjoyed getting to hear more of her ideas that night. She is also very gifted in choosing (and applying) excellent, bold shades of lipstick and rocking reddish, purpleish, silverish hair like no one else I’ve seen. She is also a great balance to my proclivity for sweets; she provided our table with homemade organic turkey sandwiches and a veggie tray. Hilarie is a small-town girl (Middlesboro, Kentucky being that exact small town) with pride and purpose because of her roots. If I could pick a few people who I’d like to mold myself after to be when I grow up, Hilarie would be one of those people.

Next is Brent. Brent has ferociously curly hair, which he just cut much shorter right before our dinner! (It looks very nice, Brent; don’t feel sad.) Brent is a Nursing major, something I had either known and forgotten or had never known at all; either way, I am fascinated and extremely impressed. He aspires to one day be part of Doctors Without Borders—color me more impressed. Brent also deeply enjoys chocolate pie, which is why we had fudge pie…also just because fudge pie is delicious. Brent and I have a very fun friendship, in which he makes jokes that I don’t get until later and irks me by “playing” sexist. Hilarious. In return, I like to step on his masculinity by constantly asserting myself in the conversation, laugh too hard at my own jokes, and tell him that no, he could not be on SNL. (Sorry, buddy.) Brent is from Nashville, Tennessee and spent this past summer in Taiwan—another surprise! He is a talented thinker, compassionate human, and I enjoyed hearing his insights and learning more about him at dinner. If I could pick a few people to model my hair after, Brent would be one of those people.

Brent brought along his friend Tan, who is an international student from Vietnam. He is 22 years old, has gorgeous, thick, jet-black hair, and you pronounce his name “Tahn.” He speaks extremely good English (a million times better than my Vietnamese would be, goodness); he is an interesting person outside of how well he speaks (I will get to this momentarily), but I just think it’s really impressive and something we take for granted, as most of us never have to/want to really learn another language. Tan is currently working on his English so that he can pursue a degree in Business. He originally wanted to be a Math teacher because he really enjoys the subject, but he has since changed his mind and decided he wants to pursue business, which, coincidentally, is what both of his parents do. He said he would still like to be able to teach at some point but for the moment is really interested in learning business, working for a company, and eventually starting his own business.

Tan is a pretty quiet guy, or at least was this evening; I suppose it’s a little silly of me to assume one night is the epitome of what a person is. (From some of the nights I’ve had, I would really hope that’s not the case.) Tan was really interested in the number of holidays here and the ways in which we celebrate them. He asked a lot of questions about Thanksgiving and told us that in his country they really only celebrate New Year and even that is different because it’s celebrated in February. I asked him what his parents thought of him coming over here and he said they were very worried about him changing a lot or being corrupted somehow, but that they spoke every day—despite the 11 hour time difference. Tan’s curiosity, bright smile, and eagerness to learn are infectious, and his presence was a real asset at the table.

And finally, there was Jen. Jen was our host for the evening who provided the cozy environment and necessary kitchen table. Jen is a social justice warrior who would never call herself that. Jen works and fights for people. Period. She works very closely with the refugees in Bowling Green in numerous capacities. One of my favorite moments of the evening was Jen talking about “doing good” without doing it for praise or even “because it’s the right thing to do”; for her “doing good” is just basic humanity and shouldn’t have any further thought; it should just be inherent. And I really loved this concept of thoughtful actions done thoughtlessly. I’d never framed it that way, and it was something really special.

Jen was born just outside of Philly and has lived many places, including Texas where one of her boys was born, much to her chagrin. Jen is married to a Political Science professor at WKU, and they have two children—one of whom is in Gatton Academy here. Jen was also a Political Science major in college but has pursued many different careers throughout her 40 some-odd-long life. She is currently working for Pearson as a writer and editor—something very much after my own heart. Jen is an incredibly intelligent, kind without agenda, and insightful beyond what a three-hour long dinner conversation could fully display.

As I am typing this out, I realize I am over 1100 words in and just finishing my “introduction.” And I am chuckling to myself at a couple of things. One, it’s hilarious how much I can pour into something when I’m not even trying to. And two, in direct relation to one, I didn’t even have to think about all the stuff I’ve written. I just remembered it. I have roughly an hour and a half of recordings from that night (I didn’t record our whole conversation because we would shuffle to get tea or something), but I have yet to refer to them once. I’m amazed and stunned at what I can remember when I’m actually listening, when I create an intention behind my listening, when my listening has motivation. This is also sad, obviously, that a looming grade is what has to pressure me to actively engage. And not even engage in conversation by speaking myself but simply by engaging my listening. There’s such a difference there: between being present for a conversation and being actively engaged in it; neither of those options require you to speak, but the first you could so easily not actually be present or engaged.

And I think, because of all this self-revelation I’m having in the moment, that that’s one of my biggest take-aways from this experience: just what it means to listen and to engage. I thought I was good at that already, but seeing how much I can pour out now simply because I was a willing, engaged vessel then shows me that there’s so much I miss. Maybe I already knew that Hilarie had two majors and two minors. Maybe I already knew that Brent was a Nursing major. Maybe I didn’t know either of those things. And that’s not my point. I’m just sort of here typing this, looking somewhat deranged I’m sure, nodding to myself and marveling at how much I would’ve missed if I hadn’t been actively involved that night—if I’d been on my phone or hyper-aware of the time or just unfocused. And what I’m realizing right now is just how powerful that engagement, that listening, is—in all situations. Think of how much smoother and more intelligently our political debates (among politicians and among ourselves) would go! Think of how much harder it would be to dismiss, dislike, or even hate people if we listened first—if we were actively engaged in hearing others. What would that look like?

This is something we even talked about a lot during our time together, but it’s just so moving right now as I sit here and reflect on how much I know about these strangers and semi-acquaintances, on how connected to them I feel now. What if that kind of connection could extend to all people? To the refugees who Jen works so closely with? To the homeless person on the corner? To the girl who sits next to you in class? What if we defaulted to connection, humanity, and engagement? What would our world look like?

And I really thought I would go into all the political conversation and the stories about the refugees Jen told us and how we each described what citizenship means to us, but I’m realizing that like my first plan for this project, that plan for this post needs to change. Because yes, we did have very cool, like-minded conversation about politics in America and the beauty in telling stories and how we all knew this was like-minded political conversation and that the real conversation and engagement needed to happen with people outside of this table and mindset. We had three hours of really cool, smart story swapping and idea sharing. But it was the actual engagement—the sitting down at the kitchen table, totally disarmed, drinking tea, just chatting, and listening—that was the most powerful and important for me. And that’s what is going to make this experience one of my, unexpectedly, best nights of the semester and moments of this course. (Cheesy, cheesy, cheesy, but genuine.)

So, all that said, I’ll just wrap up with some “thank you’s.” Thank you to the darling Hilarie and Brent. Thank you for letting me crash your evening. Thank you for being open and sharing your passions. Thank you, Tan, for coming to a random event and for sharing your experience with us. Thank you for coming to WKU and for being brave enough to take on our crazy, scary, awesome America all by yourself. Thank you, Jen, for being so gracious and for being such a warrior for people—because it should be our default setting to help, and it should be something done without fanfare. And thank you, Dr. Gish, for making this experience happen by assigning this project. I am a vocal and open but quite introverted person and would never have done this had it not been for this assignment. And I’m so glad I got to! So yeah, thank you to everyone for just giving me a chance to engage and remember what it’s like to be at peace in the midst of spontaneity. Thank you all for reminding me that fresh plans are often so much better than “planned” plans. (So much cheese.) (So much sincerity.)