Incredibly fitting that I soaked in an amazing read by Dr. Rehman Abdulrehman while sitting on my rooftop in Lahore, Pakistan this week called Developing Anti-Racist Cultural Competence. While so many concepts struck me, resonated with my own experiences in Canada with code switching, tackling white saviours, and internalized racism, I kept coming back to this gem, "don't approach cultural competence like you're learning about animals in a zoo. You are always a part of the ecosystem" (pg 5).

This brings me to the concept of Relational Learning. But first, let me tell you a couple of stories. Naturally.

A few years ago, I hosted a few white folks for an experiential 'lets eat with our hands!' (I have since hosted a few of these - super fun). As one can imagine, we usually talk about connecting with food, through food, the power of your hands touching something that nourishes you, the messiness of it all, and knowing that this is what gratitude for nourishment looks like in my world. Depending on how comfortable I'm feeling, I might share a story or two about how I learnt to cook from my naano (maternal grandmother) and my Ma'ji of course. In this instance, I had talked about that.

At the end of the gathering, one of my guests asked me for recipes for everything I had made so they can make these things at home for their friends. I was a bit taken aback by their ask. I explained to them how I never kept recipes and that they just came to me from memory. The exchange was awkward to say the least. They thought I was trying to keep a family secret and said so. I brushed it off but the exchange stuck with me.

For them, this was perhaps a way to express that they enjoyed what I made so much that they wanted to experience it again. And perhaps in making it for their friends they would talk about how awesome it was to experience these in my kitchen. For me though, them asking me for a recipe to make it on their own felt like an insult in that (1) they didn't want to experience the journey of making it with me, and (2) that they wanted to just have the recipe on a piece of paper, diminishing the sacredness of my grandmother's stories from it. From their perspective, they probably didn't even think of those two things. And to be fair I didn't think of their perspective at the time either.

Another time, my parents and I were visiting with some friends in Gilgit-Baltistan region in Pakistan, and we were talking about protocols around food. Driving through the mountains, my dad, who was sitting in the front recounted a story about how when I was little, every time after lunch in summers, we would cut up mangoes for dessert. Everyone else was done eating and then it was just my dad and I. As we came to the last two pieces of mango on the plate, I pretended to look away while at the same time grabbing the bigger piece. My dad noticed this instantly and said, 'Sommmmm' in a voice just deep enough for me to know I had picked the wrong piece. I let the piece go while wondering if my dad also had his eye on the bigger piece. We both ended up laughing and he went on to say that we should never take the last piece left, and insist others help themselves, and when there are two left, never be the one to grab the bigger piece. He then took the bigger piece and gave it to me, and I insisted he have it. He insisted I have it. As we were all laughing at this story, our friend said it was pretty remarkable that we as people didn't have to send kids to etiquette school and they learned by watching their elders and making mistakes. He then shared protocols that were key to the people of the Hunza valley and something little ones just observe by going along with their elders wherever they're going; weddings, funerals, picking up produce, in the fields, you name it.

Then not too long ago, I was working with a few colleagues in Canada on reflecting on strategies to enhance cultural competence in work environments. Folks from a euro-centric background suggested regular cultural awareness workshops were the way to go, an idea that did not get too many nods from the people of colour in the room. One of the person of colour said perhaps it would be fair then to also have a slide deck on 'White people'. A bit of an awkward silence followed, but wanting to stay with the discussion, I pressed on whether there could be a immersive way to learn from each other. After some dialogue, the group together landed on perhaps 'get togethers' to talk about things as opposed to a structured, curated workshop with a slide deck. Watching this unfold, I realized we were on to something. A concept that I have since been calling relational learning.

Here's the thing. There are many ways to learn, to know, to understand, to explore. We can sit in a classroom, be given the 5 key points to remember, we can take notes, we leave, we move on, 2 out of the 5 may stick, and if you're a genius, perhaps they'll all stick but not quite sink in. And if they do, you're awesome. But experiences stay. Especially when they come over time, through investments in a relationship. Now a lot has been said about experiential learning. The nuance I'm offering here is learning through relations with others, experiencing their how, sharing ours, learning through stories. When we observe others sing, perhaps it tugs on a memory of us singing with our people. When we hear someone's drums, perhaps it reminds us of a beat from our world. Perhaps it makes our heart beat like own drums do. When we share someone's deep fried dough, perhaps it encourages us to share about how we make it similarly while adding this or that or not adding this or that. When we come to a setting in our traditional attire, perhaps it encourages conversation about similarities in someone's else's attire. Or the first time they wore it, or why they don't wear it, or how it has evolved over time, or why a particular colour, a particular pattern. Perhaps even the history of that pattern. Perhaps what colours are important for what occasions. And maybe, just maybe, that conversation meanders into other deeper dimensions of the rich fabric of our identities.

Bottom line is this. We can wait for someone from a culture different from ours to put together a slide deck on 5 things to know about X. Or as Dr. Rehman Abdulrehman suggests, we can build our social networks to be rich, diverse, and learn from each other, with each other, by trading stories.