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“We are confronted with a historic choice between falling
backwards into nationalism, misogyny, homophobia, and
xenophobia; or moving forward as a multicultural society
built on mutual respect, equality, and the widest possible
participation in shaping better social arrangements. Kim
and del Prado, in a gentle, loving tone that encourages
honesty, empathy, and risk-taking, provide much-needed
counsel as well as attainable steps that will greatly help us
transcend what divides us, grow fulfilling personal
relationships, and advance the struggle for social justice.
It’s Time to Talk (and Listen) is extremely wise and entirely
timely.”
—Terry A. Kupers, MD, MSP, professor emeritus in
the department of psychology at The Wright
Institute in Berkeley, CA, and author of Solitary

“It’s Time to Talk (and Listen) deals with clashes in cultural


values, incivility, interpersonal conflicts, and communication
difficulties. The authors, Anatasia Kim and Alicia del Prado,
have written an impressive guide to overcoming the
dilemmas experienced by people in an increasingly diverse
and varied environment. Through personal examples, case
studies, and cognitive behavioral notions, they outline tools
to enhance one’s well-being and functioning. Step-by-step
exercises and lessons are presented that clearly outline a
systematic way to help oneself. The book is straightforward,
engaging, and sensible. It has the potential for improving
the lives of those who want to more effectively function in
our diverse society.”
—Stanley Sue, PhD, distinguished professor emeritus
at Palo Alto University, and distinguished professor
emeritus at University of California, Davis
“At a time when our country is more polarized than ever,
with deeply felt traumas, fears, and pain preventing us
from empathizing with opposing viewpoints, Anatasia Kim
and Alicia del Prado’s intentional approach to bridging these
divides is vital. In It’s Time to Talk (and Listen), the authors
rightly emphasize the need to attend to one’s own
emotional reactions, and to allow for an openness to
another’s truth. With this, they bring hope for a more just,
less divided, and more authentically connected society.”
—Monika Parikh, MA, MPA, BS, cofounder and
board president of Partnerships for Trauma Recovery

“This is a must-read for anyone wanting to have productive


conversations about culture and diversity. Kim and del
Prado provide a step-by-step approach to engaging in
‘constructive conversations,’ using the Kim Constructive
Conversations Model. This book is perfect for anyone who
has struggled to manage awkward, possibly offensive
comments at the dinner table, on the airplane, or in the
office. A superb and timely contribution given the current
sociopolitical climate.”
—Claytie Davis III, PhD, ABPP, director of training
at the University of California, Berkeley, and chair-
elect of the Association of Psychology Postdoctoral
and Internship Centers (APPIC)

“It was a pleasure to read this timely book, in which Kim


and del Prado provide a thoughtful and practical framework
for respectful, value-driven, and compassionate
conversations about culture, diversity, oppression, and
privilege. Blending theory, research, and engaging
vignettes, the authors delineate a concrete and self-
reflective approach for constructive dialogue that empowers
us to participate in an authentic manner with diverse others
about salient yet divisive topics. Doing so will deepen our
understanding of other people, encourage us to embrace
differences, facilitate individual and collective healing, foster
genuine and close relationships, and lay the groundwork for
greater equity and inclusivity.”
—Nadine J. Kaslow, PhD, ABPP, professor and chief
psychologist at Emory University School of Medicine,
and past president of the American Psychological
Association

“Kim and del Prado are to be commended for their book,


which represents the best of George Miller’s call to ‘give
psychology away.’ They have provided a practical, step-by-
step guide to difficult conversations regarding culture, race,
and ethnicity. Using key principles derived from
multicultural psychology, they have created a highly
accessible guide grounded in the exploration of each user’s
values, motives, and needs. This book should be studied by
anyone who is interested in promoting constructive
dialogues with coworkers, friends, acquaintances, and
neighbors on potentially divisive topics. It is a very timely
contribution given the current schisms within our society.”
—Frederick Leong, PhD, professor in the
department of psychology and psychiatry, and
director of the consortium for multicultural
psychology research at Michigan State University

“Bravo to Kim and del Prado for clearly laying out pragmatic
steps to navigate difficult conversations. This is a very
timely book given the current sociopolitical context.… Their
model gives us hope that we can cross multiple divides to
see the humanity in others.”
—Steven R. Lopez, PhD, professor in the
department of psychology and social work at the
University of Southern California

“I admire and respect the intentions behind Anatasia Kim


and Alicia del Prado’s It’s Time to Talk (and Listen).
Constructive conversations about difficult topics are, by
definition, very hard to have. Kim and del Prado, in my
opinion, treat the ability to have such conversations as a
skill that can be learned. The Kim Constructive
Conversations Model revolves around the topics of culture
and diversity, but the actual model can also be applied
broadly to other challenging topics—subjects that we often
avoid. Perhaps the most important takeaway for me, after
reading this text, was the authors’ heartfelt belief that we
can make difficult and painful situations better, especially
surrounding diverging views on culture and diversity. And
we can do this by following a model of sorts, one that is
grounded in our own values and integrity. Thank you
Anatasia and Alicia, for sharing your thoughts, suggested
instruction, and explicit bias that we can all improve the
way we deal with difficult topics.”
—David M. Lechuga, PhD, UCLA-trained clinical
psychologist, former president of the California
Psychological Association (CPA) and the Hispanic
Neuropsychological Society, and current chair of the
CPA’s Division of Neuropsychology

“Kim and del Prado create a safe space to examine one’s


authentic self without first having to apologize for gender,
ethnicity, identity, cultural norms, or economic status. In
doing so, the reader is invited to journey inward, and peel
away layers of self by identifying intentions, exposing
obstacles, and clarifying principles that inform how we act
on or react to conversations that may make us
uncomfortable. It is through the examination of the
nuanced self, that the authors are then able to guide the
reader on a path to constructive communication with
others.”
—Irene St. Roseman, EdD, cofounder/head of
school, Oxford Day Academy

“For too long, dialogues on multicultural issues turn to


debates, trying to prove why each person is right in their
respective positions. What I love most about Kim and del
Prado’s book is the use of their own lives to illustrate their
eight-step approach, while situating ALL readers to examine
our own ‘stuff’ as we attempt to honor ourselves while
listening to others. The book is practical, with case
examples and reflective exercises that can be used by
anyone. I love the book’s capacity to serve as a model for
constructive conversations both within and outside
academia. It is accessible, and while an easy read, they
challenge us to look beyond simple solutions to difficult
dialogues. Not an easy task, but a necessary one if we are
to truly affirm the humanity in others.”
—Miguel E. Gallardo, PsyD, professor in the
department of psychology; and program director of
Aliento, The Center for Latina/o Communities at
Pepperdine University

“Kim and del Prado’s It’s Time to Talk (and Listen) is timely,
important, and urgently needed. At a time when so many
Americans feel divided by issues that intersect with race
and diversity, it offers hope and invites opportunities for
healing through practical, step-by-step guidance on how to
talk about and understand each other as well as our
differences. The powerful stories and thought-provoking
exercises embedded throughout the text promote deep
personal reflection, astute self-awareness, genuine
understanding, and purposeful action and change.
Everyone can benefit from this book.”
—Rachel N. Casas, PhD, associate professor in the
graduate department of psychology at California
Lutheran University

“I’m ashamed to admit how many friends I’ve unfriended,


blocked, or muted on social media because I couldn’t have
a conversation with them about our differences. I wish It’s
Time to Talk (and Listen) had been published sooner. Its
practical approach to understanding who you are, sharing
what’s important to you, and listening to others helped me
take a more courageous path forward instead of impulsively
avoiding people I disagree with. Kim and del Prado have
created a wonderful resource for anyone interested in
navigating the polarized minefield of our everyday lives.”
—Ali Mattu, PhD, clinical psychologist and assistant
professor at Columbia University Irving Medical
Center, and host of The Psych Show on YouTube

“Simultaneously practical and scholarly, this splendid book


provides the outstanding eight-step Kim Constructive
Conversations Model, to deal with contentious, complex
topics that often contain emotional minefields, especially
about culture and diversity. Kim and del Prado acknowledge
our unfathomably deep collective wounds across hundreds
of years, as well as the ongoing experiences of being
ignored, dismissed, neglected, avoided, or invalidated.
Conversations about difficult, painful topics are not only
important, but in certain contexts, can be a moral
responsibility! The model provides an opportunity to go
through those experiences in bold and courageous ways,
which can lead to a place of clarity, grace, and compassion
for oneself and others. This inspiring guide is a treasure
that can provide direction, grounding, and comfort for
anyone who experiences microaggressions, and their allies.”
—Melba J. T. Vasquez, PhD, ABPP, independent
practice in Austin, TX, and former president of the
American Psychological Association

“Kim and del Prado have written a welcoming, engaging,


and much-needed book! Their approach makes having
potentially explosive conversations seem less daunting and
possible, while still remaining true to the nuances and
complexities of such conversations. It’s Time to Talk (and
Listen) is a must-read for everyone, especially during these
unprecedented times, as we all collectively grapple with
some of the most uncomfortable, distressing, and painful
issues that have been plaguing our society and our psyche.”
—E.J.R. David, PhD, associate professor in the
department of psychology at the University of Alaska
Anchorage, and author of We Have Not Stopped
Trembling Yet and Brown Skin, White Minds

“Kim and del Prado present timely, tested, and immediately


applicable methods for interpersonal understanding and
repair. A valuable tool for families, institutions, and
communities during this divisive and stressful era.”
—Helen H. Hsu, PsyD, president of the Asian
American Psychological Association, and staff
psychologist at Stanford University
“I’ll be introducing this practical and expert guide to our
organization because it supports difficult conversations
about experiences of diverse oppression in a way that
prioritizes mutual respect, relationship connections, and
finding common ground. The authors’ inclusion of their
personal experiences encourages humility, vulnerability, and
courage in the process.”
—Megan Kirshbaum, PhD, founder and executive
director of Through the Looking Glass, and director
of The National Center for Parents with Disabilities
and Their Families

“Presenting a practical and accessible eight-step model on


how to participate in constructive dialogues about issues of
culture and diversity, the authors utilize multiple examples
and invite readers to participate, reflect, and journal in a
tone that is conversational and approachable. The emphasis
on talking with, rather than talking at, others from a place
of personal awareness and growth is emphasized
throughout. This book is a useful resource for individuals
across disciplines and professional contexts who are
interested in participating in dialogues that can promote
greater mutual understanding, and even healing, related to
difficult cultural topics.”
—Cirleen DeBlaere, PhD, associate professor in the
department of counseling psychology at Georgia
State University, and coauthor of Cultural Humility
Publisher’s Note
This publication is designed to provide accurate and authoritative information in
regard to the subject matter covered. It is sold with the understanding that
the publisher is not engaged in rendering psychological, financial, legal, or
other professional services. If expert assistance or counseling is needed, the
services of a competent professional should be sought.
In consideration of evolving American English usage standards, and reflecting a
commitment to equity for all genders, “they/them” is used in this book to
denote singular persons.
Distributed in Canada by Raincoast Books
Copyright © 2019 by Anatasia S. Kim and Alicia del Prado
New Harbinger Publications, Inc.
5674 Shattuck Avenue
Oakland, CA 94609
www.newharbinger.com
Cover design by Amy Shoup
Acquired by Ryan Buresh
Edited by Teja Watson
Text design by Michele Waters and Tracy Carlson
All Rights Reserved

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data on file


To Dexter and Serena, my endlessly patient and generous teachers,
and to Quincy, my everything.
—Anatasia S. Kim

To my sons, Ethan and Mason, who inspire me every day, and


who slept on my lap while I typed many of these pages.
—Alicia M. del Prado
CONTENTS

Contents
Foreword
Preface
Introduction: Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall
Step 1: Identify a Grounded Goal
Step 2: Locate and Acknowledge Barriers
Step 3: Setting a Value-Driven Intention
Step 4: Set the Stage
Step 5: Take Action
Step 6: Listen
Step 7: Respond
Step 8: Do It Again!
Conclusion: Constructive Conversations as a Lifestyle
Acknowledgments
References
FOREWORD

As a scholar-activist, I frequently initiate uncomfortable


conversations about race, gender, sexuality, class, ethnicity, and
religion. In psychology courses where I teach about social justice
and systemic oppression, I regularly facilitate difficult dialogues
exploring students’ biases and pointing out racial, gendered, and
cultural classroom dynamics. As a consultant and multicultural
“fixer,” I am often invited to workplaces or college campuses after
“incidents” occur, where I facilitate dialogues on how colleagues
can improve intercultural communication or provide trainings on
how to manage implicit biases and microaggressions. Even in my
everyday life, I commonly find myself asking people, “What did
you mean by that?” when they make microaggressive comments
about me, my family, or my work.
Despite these experiences, I could not tell you when I first
started willfully engaging in difficult dialogues, nor how I learned
to navigate them. As a teenager, I heard many hurtful jokes
related to race, gender, and sexuality; yet, I can’t recall ever
speaking up against them. In college, while racial tensions
reverberated all over campus and led to avoidance and
segregation, professors or administrators hardly addressed them
or made us talk. In graduate school, where I typically was the
only Filipino American and the only queer person (and often the
only person of color), I constantly debated whether to participate
in classroom discussions, in fear of having to represent all of the
members of my groups, or of having to protect myself from being
invalidated, dismissed, or gaslit.
One reason why I entered academia was to improve the ways
that multiculturalism was integrated into teaching, research, and
scholarship. I wanted to provide the next generation of
multicultural psychologists with academic literature that validated
my own lived experiences while normalizing people who are
usually “othered.” I wanted to educate people with privileged
identities on how systemic oppression influences all of us, and I
wanted to create spaces (in classrooms, in workplaces, in clinical
settings, and in homes) where people could talk, listen, and learn
from each other.
Early in my career, I picked up on many common dynamics
that made multicultural teaching emotionally exhausting. While all
individuals generally can become defensive, they do so for
different reasons. People from privileged groups often describe
feeling “attacked” when confronted on the ways they are complicit
to systemic oppression. People of historically marginalized groups
often shut down out of exhaustion or frustration, or to protect
themselves from being hurt further. As a facilitator, I ordinarily
navigate a rollercoaster of emotions—feeling triggered when
participants question my abilities; drained when conflicts emerge;
and defeated when people just didn’t seem to “get it.” While I am
fortunate to have mentors and colleagues to debrief or process
each situation, my wounds took time to heal, and my anxiety
increased each time I entered the “battlefield” again.
It’s Time to Talk (And Listen): How to Have Constructive
Conversations About Race, Class, Sexuality, Ability & Gender in a
Polarized World successfully identifies and normalizes the
psychological and emotional processes of engaging in
conversations that people tend to avoid or dread. In naming the
anxieties that people have in even thinking about issues deemed
taboo or too political, Drs. Anatasia Kim and Alicia del Prado
provide crucial reassurance and guidance for each aspect of the
process. The heart of the book is the Kim Constructive
Conversations Model—a guide to approaching dialogues about
race, gender, sexuality, and other identities. Moving beyond the
“courageous” conversation to a “constructive” one, the authors
highlight an array of practical strategies and tools—from
identifying a grounded goal to locating and acknowledging
barriers.
The authors encourage self-reflection throughout—inviting
readers to journal and challenging them to identify their
emotional triggers or blind spots. They provide case studies and
exercises which assist readers in gaining (or increasing) self-
awareness, particularly about their own implicit biases or
problematic internalized notions. The authors take their own
“turns” in sharing personal reflections—proving not only that they
practice what they preach, but also modeling how to emotionally
navigate constructive conversations themselves. Through their
own personal voices and narratives, the authors also emphasize
healing and self-care—qualities that are critical when engaging in
social justice work and addressing cultural traumas.
Further, Kim and del Prado push readers to consider the
perspectives of others who are different from them. Still
acknowledging the role of systemic oppression, people of
historically marginalized groups are validated in their rights to be
angry or frustrated, and are also encouraged to move beyond (or
through) those emotions. Such nuances are important, as people
of historically marginalized groups (e.g., people of color, women,
LGBTQ people) are often tasked with the responsibility (or
burden) of teaching multiculturalism, in ways that makes people
of privileged groups (e.g., white people, men, heterosexuals) feel
comfortable. The authors’ push for people with privilege to take
initiative in sharing the burden of multicultural learning is
refreshing and validating.
Perhaps one of the greatest “take home” messages for me is
the importance for readers to reflect upon why they experience
their emotions and what those emotions may mask. People of
privileged groups often feel defensive and tense—which likely
protect their feelings of guilt and shame. People of historically
marginalized groups tend to turn to anger, frustration, or
resentment—which likely protect hurt, trauma, and internalized
oppression. People with both privileged and less privileged
identities navigate both simultaneously (e.g., white women who
feel guilty about their whiteness and frustration and sadness
about sexism), which further complicate their emotional
processes. Identifying and managing these primary emotions is
imperative for engaging in constructive conversations, but also for
surviving and thriving in life.
It’s Time to Talk (and Listen) should be required for
educators, therapists, employers, and supervisors, as well as
students, clients, employees, and supervisees. It provides the
tools that are needed for people to better understand themselves,
which will allow them to better understand others and to
communicate more effectively. In a time in which our society is
more polarized than it perhaps has ever been, it is finally time for
us to talk (and to listen) in real, organic, and meaningful ways. I
commend Drs. Kim and del Prado for arming us with the
strategies and tools to help survive the battlefields ahead.
—Kevin L. Nadal, PhD
City University of New York
PREFACE

Have you ever been in a conversation in which someone’s speech


or behavior is culturally offensive? Maybe at your place of work, at
the dinner table, on a blind date, at the supermarket, during a
basketball game, or even during a job interview?
In this scenario, what, if anything, did you do? For many of
us, “nothing” is an all too familiar answer to this question. You
probably fantasized about what you would, could, or should have
said. Maybe you even promised yourself that the next time you
will open your mouth. Don’t worry, you’re not alone. Whether at
work or at home, on the subway or during a family dinner,
situations like this have become more and more commonplace
and complex.
In recent years, the call for difficult dialogues about
controversial issues has increased. But how? It is not uncommon
these days for family members with different political opinions to
stop speaking to each other after exchanging mutually offensive
words. It’s also typical for people to completely avoid discussing
important topics altogether, anticipating the inevitable conflict.
And if the situation happens at less than ideal times and places,
say when you’re running late or at work, these excuses make
avoidance even easier. If silence sits at one end of the continuum
and verbal conflict at the other, how do we reach a middle
ground? How do we respectfully come together so that both
parties can speak and listen?
This book is about having constructive conversations
regarding culture and diversity. The Kim Constructive
Conversations Model is a step-by-step approach that is grounded
in a commitment to healing and to honoring your personal values.
Broaching cultural topics can help heal the legacy of trauma,
silence, and shame by moving toward intimacy in a relationship
that embraces differences. We believe that highlighting healing in
this model is important, as we must aspire to individually and
collectively tend to our wounds. Through continuous and
persistent constructive conversations, we believe this is possible.
It will certainly not happen overnight. It is an investment. A
serious commitment. But certainly one worth making to ourselves
and each other.
The Kim Constructive Conversations Model will teach you to
engage in effective, candid, and compassionate conversations
with family, friends, colleagues, and even strangers about any
controversial topic, including racism, immigration, sexism, all-
gender restrooms, marriage equality, gun violence, reproductive
rights, classism, religious differences, ableism, marginalization,
and more.
We believe that constructive conversations about culture and
diversity can be for everybody. All people, despite internal and
external challenges, can engage courageously and effectively on
important matters critical to our collective well-being. Family
members, CEOs of Fortune 500 companies, supervisors and their
employees, staff with their managers, patrons at a coffee shop,
college students in sororities and fraternities, actors and directors
on their sets…the possibilities are endless. This book is not
intended for people from any particular cultural group or political
outlook. Rather, constructive conversations can be used by all
who are willing and open to engaging.
Imagine you are at a baseball game. An elderly fan in front of
you yells at the Korean pitcher to “go back home!”
Your blood starts to boil, and you yell at the man, “Shut up!
You can’t say that!” He turns around a little surprised and says,
“What?!” You quickly and loudly shout, “That’s racist!” with a clear
intent to emphatically shut him down.
While in this scenario you may be calling out a blatant
macroaggression, this verbal confrontation is not a constructive
conversation. Why not? After all, you confronted racism head-on.
And in this day and age, isn’t this what we need?
Yes! We strongly believe that racism and macroaggressions
need to be called out for what they are, and we hope that you
can and will do this. It takes tremendous courage and quite a bit
of energy, but it is a must in order to combat the social diseases
of prejudice and discrimination.
Many great leaders have spoken directly, swiftly, and loudly
when naming injustice. It is empowering and even healing to
voice one’s mind with clarity and undoctored truthfulness.
However, “that’s racist,” in and of itself, is not a constructive
conversation. What we’re talking about here is not a “one and
done” model. Instead, a truly constructive conversation is one
that involves all parties talking, listening, and communicating
collaboratively.

Kim Constructive Conversations


Model: Practical Steps
What is a constructive conversation? A constructive conversation
is an exchange in which the people involved speak about their
personal experiences, thoughts, feelings, and beliefs on matters
of culture and diversity, and listen to the other person with
genuine openness.
In his book Courageous Conversations About Race: A Field
Guide for Achieving Equity in Schools (2015), Glenn E. Singleton
writes that a courageous conversation on race engages those who
won’t talk, sustains dialogue even if it gets uncomfortable, and
enhances communication such that deep understanding and
meaningful actions occur.
By contrast, the Kim Constructive Conversations Model is a
step-by-step guide to conversations about culture and diversity.
The how-to includes understanding and successfully managing
both external and internal processes in potentially emotion-
charged situations. To date, much emphasis has been placed on
external processes, such as content, word choices, or rules of
engagement that focus on the overt and concrete dialogue
between those attempting to engage about culture and diversity.
Though certainly important, focusing simply on the external
process unfortunately fails to capture the full story and
experience. As such, the Kim Constructive Conversations Model
expands on existing frameworks to include the subtler, and
arguably the more important, internal process. Focusing internally
on factors such as our personality, emotional reactions, goals, and
values, and developing useful skills from this place of self-
reflection and self-understanding, can exponentially enhance the
success of difficult dialogues on culture and diversity. This is turn
makes it easier to take risks, even when emotions are strong,
stakes high, and outcomes uncertain.
In the 8-step Kim Constructive Conversations Model, healing
is emphasized. As Singleton suggests, this involves a commitment
to genuine understanding and meaningful action. This means that
the intention in having constructive conversations is not merely
for external motives—to patch up an occasional misunderstanding
or smooth out a few ruffled feathers in order to gain others’
approval or avoid future social faux pas. Rather, there is a clear
and deliberate wish to be impacted deeply and purposefully—to
be changed inside and out.
Consider people with cancer. Survivors know that the path to
healing is fraught with challenges big and small. As they heal—
from surgery, chemotherapy, or radiation—it doesn’t always feel
good. In fact, they often feel much worse before they get better.
Oncologists know they need to be direct and honest about the
difficulties that lay ahead. They know that the strength of the
patient’s character, courage, and resolve will play just as profound
a role in their healing as the treatments they will receive.
The disease of oppression is no different. In order to heal
from injustice, in order to have constructive conversations, you
must be strong and brave. You must accept that the journey will
not always be easy, and you will certainly not feel good all the
time.
But just as with a cancer patient, the alternative—not seeking
treatment—is too precarious. It means allowing the disease to
eventually take over.
Oppression and injustice too will take over if we do nothing.
Just because the path to healing is long, uncertain, and difficult
does not mean we give up before starting. As we slowly move
forward, one constructive conversation at a time, our capacity to
understand deeply and undertake meaningful actions will
strengthen. And as we have noted, constructive conversations
have boundless potential for healing.
So how do you practice this? The book that follows will help
you move beyond lip service and show you how to speak from the
heart with tools from the head. Emphasis is placed on not just
why, what, and when we speak, but more important, on
understanding how we talk with one another. You will learn tools
that are supported by research and have been practiced in
classrooms, work meetings, therapy rooms, and even around
dinner tables.
The 8-step model is straightforward and easy to follow. With
practice, the steps will become second nature and you will see
your skills improve. They will help you focus, stay in the moment,
and verbalize your thoughts and feelings, while also being open to
the other person’s perspective.
In Step 1, you identify your goal. In Step 2, you acknowledge
the barriers to engaging in a given constructive conversation. In
Step 3, you address any barriers by creating a value-driven
intention. Next, you set the stage (Step 4), and then you take
action (Step 5). In Step 6, you invite, listen, and process the
receiver’s response. In Step 7, you acknowledge, reflect, and
respond to the receiver’s reactions. And in Step 8, you repeat and
do it again.
As you can see from these steps, a constructive conversation
is not a one-sided lecture or monologue. Rather, it’s a thoughtful
and reciprocal connection, intended to deepen mutual
understanding and ultimately lead to change.

How It All Started


We are both passionate about the world of multicultural
psychology. We’ve taught classes, held trainings, and even
organized national conferences on the subject. However, issues
pertaining to culture and diversity continue to be among the most
challenging topics to converse about. For years, our students and
colleagues have told us that they struggle with how to effectively
talk about these topics in classroom discussions.
They are not alone! We frequently get questions like, “What
do I actually say?” and “How do I bring it up?” We too have had
our own struggles, both at work and in our personal lives, when
trying to address culture and diversity issues that are important to
us. It is from this struggle that the 8-step model was born.
As we are psychologists who work from a cognitive
behavioral background, it’s no surprise that the model is grounded
in a practical, linear approach of goal-setting, self-assessment,
collaborative dialogue, and personal values. We try to break
things down to their simplest parts so that readers have the ABCs
of how to engage about culture and diversity.
We define “culture” and “diversity” broadly and inclusively.
Culture includes but is not necessarily limited to race, ethnicity,
gender, sexual identity, class, ability, spirituality, religion, and age.
Additional layers of cultural complexity also include geographic
location of origin, level of educational attainment, marital status,
relationship status, diverse family structures, political identity, and
veteran status or military affiliation. Our conceptualization of
diversity includes the understanding that our identities and
experiences are heterogeneous and variegated. It’s also crucial
that we respect and honor how we each have multiple,
intersecting identities. The use of culture and diversity also
acknowledges the reality of inequity, the harmful impacts of
unexamined privilege, and the overwhelming injustices in our
global society, including all forms of discrimination, such as
racism, colorism, sexism, heterosexism, classism, ableism,
xenophobia, and ageism.
After many years of talking about these steps in workshops
and at conferences, we finally decided to take the leap and write
the approach all down. So here we are!

Meet Anatasia Kim, PhD


The 8-step model was born some years ago for the sole
purpose of serving one person—me. I remember precisely the
moment when the steps came to me. I was taking an unusually
early evening shower. (Yes, shower epiphanies do happen!) I had
been struggling for some weeks to stay motivated at work. There
had been numerous heated conversations among faculty and
graduate students around if and how to teach multicultural
studies. It was intense, necessary, and, frankly, a long time
coming.
But I was feeling depleted and demoralized. I questioned
whether I could hold on for the long haul. I feared I didn’t have
enough in my reserve. I feared what I might say or do. I was also
afraid I might simply walk away. I even started looking for
another job. I was a serious flight risk.
Of course, what was happening at work was nothing
surprising or new. In fact, it was something I usually welcome—
open, direct, no-BS talk. We were finally talking honestly about
the herd of elephants in the room. Should multiculturalism be
taught experientially? Are we traumatizing our students by asking
them to deeply examine their privilege and internalized
oppression? Is such learning unduly burdensome for more
privileged students? Shouldn’t they be protected as well? Maybe
we should just vote to eliminate the course altogether given that
it seems to be creating so much emotionality and strife in the
school? These issues were not unique to our program; they were
challenges for many social science doctoral programs across the
country.
But for a myriad of reasons, these discussions really got to
me. This work was important and way too personal. I was not
about to go down without a fight. But I realized that what was
depleting my energy and hope was an uncomfortable feeling.
Pain. I was deeply hurt, my spirit wounded.
Like so many people, I have had my share of experiences
with cultural oppression. The uncomfortable yet eerily familiar
feeling of pain came flooding back from a past I had kept locked
away. Growing up as a young immigrant child in Southern
California—with limited economic resources, community violence,
and rampant racism—left an indelible impression on me. I learned
very quickly to not ask questions, to not challenge stereotypes or
authority, to smile and nod. All this while my identity was
constantly cross-examined, my pride perpetually bruised, and my
heart aching to scream back.
But silence and inaction ruled; I learned very early that
challenging the status quo was to be avoided at all cost. My
attempts at practicing the perfect rebuttals or threats, no matter
how clever, always fell short. Reporting on others’ misbehaviors
also came with the heavy price of alienation or the stark
possibility of retaliation. The temporary satisfaction of a good
comeback, even when it worked, retreated as quickly as it had
appeared. Change and justice felt like wasted hope, a useless
fantasy. But giving up was also not an option.
I desperately wanted to be brave. I wanted to stand up—to
everyone. To my father, who allowed police officers to talk down
to him. To the doctors and store clerks, who assumed my family’s
social class and treated us accordingly. And even to my peers,
who projected their own internalized racism onto me.
Fear and pain are difficult things to hold for a young person,
especially for a long time. Whether we like it or not, they can and
do wound us.
If you knew my mother, you’d know that the women in my
family don’t do wounded. The women of Jeju Island suck it up
and march forward boldly, unapologetically. No time for crying
and licking wounds. You get louder, stronger, and you push
through. Hard.
This had been my operating mode for most of my adult life.
It was especially the case when it came to multiculturalism and
social justice—the very reasons I had pursued a graduate degree.
I had no time for pain. There was work to be done.
But as much as I tried, I couldn’t shake the gnawing pain. So
I apprehensively turned toward it. I needed to do something.
Even with a PhD, this was too difficult. I was coming undone. I
desperately needed something to anchor me. The tornado of
emotions was growing stronger and I was certain if left
untethered, I would spiral out and say or do something I would
later regret.
The 8 steps came to me in a matter of minutes. I’ve been
trained as a cognitive behavioral therapist, so a step-by-step
approach was both familiar and grounding. I knew I needed to
slow myself down so that whatever I said or did would come from
a place of clarity and intention. I also needed to create space for
the pain. But how? As someone who treats anxiety, I knew that I
needed to turn toward, and not away from, the fear of that pain.
My spiritual practice in Buddhism and my study on the
neuroscience of Buddhist psychology also proved to be invaluable
influences. I was reminded that in order to find enlightenment
and liberation, I must first look within and begin to understand
the source of my pain and suffering. This framework became an
important foundation for the model.
So the constructive conversations model was born that early
evening, against the backdrop of my children outside the
bathroom door asking when dinner would be ready. It gave me
something to hold on to as I committed to bravely and humbly
turn toward and soften into the pain and suffering.
It was clear that the solution was not to avoid or run and get
another job, or even to reactively end relationships, which I’d
been known to do. Instead, I needed to stay, to face my fear and
anger. I needed to unmute, to listen, and to connect deeply,
honestly, and compassionately.
So, I committed to opening my heart, still raw and
vulnerable. I committed to doing my part to lessen the great
chasm between “us” and “them,” to work with and not only
against or in spite of others. The steps gave me a game plan; the
values, especially of faith and courage, gave me important tools.
In the years that followed, as I collaborated with Alicia and began
to practice the model myself, I realized that I could be both
unwavering in my pursuit of social justice and also hold deeply to
mercy and grace for myself and others. In so doing, I could speak
boldly and listen deeply. I could also hope and even heal.
I hope the Kim Constructive Conversations Model will help
you too, in your endeavors to transform yourself and those
around you. Our collective wounds are unfathomably deep, having
traveled with us across hundreds of years. The pain we have
inflicted is incalculable. Yet we have too often ignored, dismissed,
neglected, avoided, invalidated, and danced around the untold
atrocities of past and present. We must stop this—together.
Now is the time to start connecting, talking, listening, and
healing. It’s long overdue. We owe it to ourselves. We owe it to
those whose shoulders we stand on. And most urgently, we owe it
to those who will inherit our collective legacy, our children.

Meet Alicia del Prado, PhD


From an early age, I knew I was loved, but also that I was
different from the family that loved me. One of the most
influential people in my life is my Italian American grandfather,
John Salvatore Provenzale. This tall, slender man with white hair
and a booming voice was Nonno to me. And Nonno (Italian for
“grandfather”) knew how to make me, his brown-skinned,
multiracial granddaughter of divorced parents, feel important,
worthy, and beautiful.
Nonno was also a traditional and conservative man, and I
imagine if he was alive today he and I would not see eye to eye
on some things, or likely many things! That being said, my love
for him is strong and true, and I am confident that having a white
man play such a positive role in my life influences my genuine
desire to have constructive conversations with people who look
and are so different from me.
From an early age, I pronounced with certainty to my
classmates that I was “Filipino, Italian, Spanish, and Chinese.”
These were the identity terms that my parents and grandparents
taught me, and I quickly made them my own. During my
childhood, I became very equipped to thrive in a variety of
different social situations, and I was capable of interacting and
getting along with people from a range of different backgrounds.
I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area with a large
extended family, many of whom were Filipino, Italian, Salvadoran,
Irish, Puerto Rican, and African American. Perhaps as a part of my
family fabric, I had an innate desire to foster communication and
bridge connections between different communities. These
personal and family experiences influenced my decision to study
cross-cultural psychology, as well as my ultimate career path as a
counseling psychologist who loves helping and working with
diverse groups of people.
I met Anatasia at the Wright Institute in Berkeley in 2008.
We shared a passion for multiculturalism and social justice and
soon became “sisters” in work and life. When Anatasia first
shared with me the 8 steps she’d designed, I thought to myself,
This is genius! It has been an honor to present, practice, and
partner with Anatasia on the further development of these steps.
We call each other when our practice of the 8 steps goes well. We
also analyze together what went wrong when we’re not satisfied
with the constructive conversations we’ve embarked on.
In late 2017, I was on an airplane when a stranger sitting to
the right of me asked, “You’re on the left, right?” I was totally
taken off guard. The woman speaking to me was a young white
woman. Let’s call her Tanya.
I hesitantly said yes when I registered that Tanya meant that
I was on the political left. Tanya then proclaimed that she was “on
the right” and continued to talk about topics that she had strong
opinions about. Tanya shared her thoughts about Black Lives
Matter, undocumented immigration, and also added that she
thought Barack Obama was the “Antichrist.”
I took a few deep breaths before replying. Not only have I
owned two Obama T-shirts, I even had an Obama onesie for my
newborn. For me, the election of Obama was personal and
powerful for many reasons, but especially because I connected to
his multiracial identity. He had a white mom. I have a white mom.
His father was a man of color. My father is a man of color. I felt
visible in the world in a way I hadn’t felt before, and I had felt
hopeful when Obama was in office. I wanted my children to
partake in this hopeful future, where people of color could
sometimes see themselves in their leadership.
Other documents randomly have
different content
“I perceive that in all things you are too superstitious,” said Rupert,
quoting aloud to himself.
She looked puzzled, then her face brightened as the meaning of
the last word came home to her.
“No,” she said, “not superstitious like beastly Mahommedan, only
afraid. That why I come here in not decent night-dress,” and she held
out her little foot naked except for the sandal, and again shook her
head as though in regret for a state of affairs over which she had no
control.
Rupert laughed loudly, causing the bats which had settled to flitter
from the roof again, and Mea, who seemed to be a merry little soul,
joined in his laughter. This made old Bakhita angry, and she
reproved them both in a stern voice.
“Do not cackle here,” she said, in Arabic, “in the very house of the
gods, though it is true that to one of you they are no gods, and
already the other has a foot set in that same path,” and she glanced
wrathfully at Mea. “Listen, Bey! I make a request of you. I do not ask
for myself, who am old and ugly, but for this lady. I have heard that
you ride to-morrow at night-fall. Now our road is yours, for I know the
sheiks to whom you go. Give us and our two servants leave to ride
with you. We have good camels of our own,” and she looked at him
with anxious eyes.
“Why do you want my escort, and whither?” he asked doubtfully.
“Why? For this reason. Do you remember the Sheik Ibrahim, he of
the Sweet Wells? Yes, I see you do. Well, he is an old enemy of our
house. He asked for the lady here in marriage, and was refused.
Yes, the dog, he dared to ask that after once, by ill chance, he had
seen her beauty. Now he has found out that we are going to make
this journey, and his plan is to take her as already he has tried to
take her at Luxor. But if we were with you, that he would not dare to
do, for he has prostrated himself to the Government since you were
away, and will not touch one whom he knows to be their envoy,
although you may call yourself Mahommed, and be dressed like an
Arab.”
“I am not sure of that,” answered Rupert. “Friend Ibrahim does not
love me.”
“No; but he fears you, which is better. With you we should be
safe.”
“How long do you wish to travel with me?”
“Two days only, till you come to the pass in the Jebal Marru. There
you will follow along the mountains, but we cross them, and go on
into the desert that is called Tebu till we come to more mountains
and a certain secret oasis among them, which we name Tama,
where no white man has ever set his foot. A while ago, Bey, you
asked me of the lost temple. It stands there in our home, and I
promise you this—let us ride in your shadow, and whenever you
have leisure I will show you that temple in payment. Yes; and the
wonders of the burying-place of the kings of the desert who once
ruled there, and whose child, the lady Tama, stands at your side.
Refuse, and I swear that you shall never see them.”
“The bribe is great,” said Rupert, “but, mother, I must not take
bribes.”
“No,” she answered, “it is your business to offer them, is it not,
else why do you carry so much gold in your baggage? Ah! you see I
have good spies.”
“So good,” he said, “that evidently on this point they have
misinformed you,” for he was sure that she was but guessing. “Well,”
he repeated, “I must not be bribed, and pleasant as would be the
company of both of you, I have other game to hunt.”
Mea drew herself up, looking wonderfully dignified notwithstanding
her lack of height, and said in Arabic:
“My aunt, our request is refused; it is not seemly that we should
ask again. We will go down the Nile a little, and hide till our
messengers bring us an escort. Let us bid this Bey farewell; we keep
him from his sleep.”
“Perhaps the Bey has not done speaking,” said Bakhita, who saw
that Rupert had but paused in his words.
“You are right, mother, as usual,” he went on, “and you know so
much that I do not mind telling you a little more. It is my object to
travel as a merchant; in fact,” he added, “I have taken to that
business which is more profitable than fighting.”
Bakhita waved her hand to indicate that to attempt to throw dust in
her eyes was mere waste of time, and he continued, smiling:
“Now merchants often take women with them, calling them their
wives or daughters, purposing to sell or to make gifts of them to
great emirs or sultans, whereas soldiers never do. Therefore,
perhaps if you were in my company I should look more like a
merchant, so I think that if you wish it I will take you. No, no, do not
bow to me, for my own sake, not yours, especially as we are not
sure of the way to the Jebal Marru, and doubtless you can guide us.
Also have no fear; all that I have seen and heard is secret, though
one day I hope that you will show me that temple in the oasis. Now I
ride to-morrow at moonrise as I wish to pass the Sweet Wells the
next night when men are asleep. You and your two servants can
meet me where the path joins the road beyond the hill.”
Bakhita seized his hand and kissed it. Evidently her mind was
much relieved, and she was very grateful. Fearing lest her
companion should follow her example, Rupert, who disliked such
displays, said to her:
“Now that this is settled, are you not going to finish pouring your
libations on the feet of the god yonder?”
Mea shook her head and answered:
“That I no can do; the libation is all poured on the feet of the man. I
hope the god will not be, what you call it, jealous, and make you
pay,” and lifting the alabaster vessel she turned it upside down to
show that it was empty.
“Then I will say good-night,” said Rupert, “as perhaps it is best that
we should not leave this place together. To-morrow, half an hour
after moonrise, at the cross-paths, unless you should change your
minds and go alone. Remember, I cannot wait,” and bowing to Mea
he left the chamber and groped his way down the hall towards the
faint light that flowed through the door-place of the temple.
When he had gone the two women looked at each other.
“My aunt,” said the younger, “have we done well? Shall we not
bring that Bey into danger at the hands of the cursed Ibrahim?”
“Perhaps,” answered Bakhita coolly. “If so, he takes us for his own
sake, not for ours; you heard his words.”
“Yes; but I do not believe them. It is for your sake that he does this
because he thinks that you are his friend. If Ibrahim knows that we
are with him, he will attack him and then—”
“And then,” answered Bakhita; “well, I am told that Rupert Bey
fights very well, and his men are brave and trained to war. Also it is
necessary for us to find an escort. Had you come when you said you
would a hundred of your own tribe would have brought you safely
across the desert, but being frightened because Ibrahim tried to steal
you at Luxor, you chose otherwise, and now it is not safe for you to
bide here till we can send for them. Still, if you do not wish to travel
with this Englishman, put on a blue robe and a yashmak and go to
his tent to-morrow as if to sell corn, and tell him so, for I will not.”
Mea thought a while, then looked up and said:
“Nay; I do wish to travel with him, for Fate made me pour the
libation of the god upon his feet, and therefore is it that I wish to
travel with him.”
CHAPTER XII.
THE WANDERING PLAYERS
The moon was up, and Rupert, in his Arab garb and mounted on a
dromedary, rode at the head of his caravan towards the district
called Sheb, in which the Sweet Wells were situated. A few miles
from Abu-Simbel, where the paths crossed, his head-man, a
sergeant named Abdullah, drew his attention to four figures on white
camels who appeared to be waiting for them, and asked if he should
go forward to learn their business. Rupert answered no, as they
were only two women and their servants to whom he had promised
escort as far as Jebal Marru. The man saluted and said nothing.
Presently the four joined the caravan, two veiled bundles, in whom
indeed it would have been difficult to recognise Bakhita and Mea,
placing themselves beside him and the men falling behind.
“So you have come,” said Rupert, saluting them.
“Bey, we have come,” answered Bakhita. “What else did you
expect?” and without more words they rode forward across the
desert.
Presently, in the midst of the intense silence, far away as yet, they
heard a sound of wild music that grew clearer as they advanced. It
was a very thrilling music, shrill and piercing and accompanied by
the roll of drums.
“What is it?” asked Rupert of Bakhita.
“The Wandering Players,” she answered, “and I wish that we had
not met them.”
“Why not?”
“Because they bring ill fortune, Bey.”
“Nonsense!” he exclaimed. “You mean that they want baksheesh.”
“Then offer it to them and see,” she said.
Now they were passing a fold in the sand-hills, and on the crest of
one of these hills, that to the right, Rupert perceived the Wandering
Players. There were five of them, all seated upon the sand, and all
so wrapped up that nothing could be seen of them, at any rate, in
that light. The three who faced the caravan were playing upon bell-
mouthed pipes, and the two who squatted opposite to them kept time
upon drums which they beat with wonderful rapidity. As the caravan
approached, this savage music grew very weird and moving; indeed
its quality was such that once heard it could scarcely be forgotten. It
seemed to cry and wail, yet there were notes in it of surprising
sweetness.
“Give those players ten piastres for their trouble,” said Rupert to
his sergeant, Abdullah; and muttering something, the man guided his
camel up the slope towards them, then offered them the money.
They took not the slightest notice of him, only played on more
wildly than before, till at length he threw the coins upon the ground
and left them.
“I think they are ghosts, not men,” he reported to Rupert, “since
there are no people in this country who will not take baksheesh.”
“Ripe fruit does not remain unplucked,” answered Rupert, in the
words of the Arab proverb, “and that which falls the children gather.”
Still, he wished that he had gone to look at the people himself, if
only to discover what tribe it was that produced such remarkable
players. Then they rode forward, and for some furlongs the
penetrating sound of those pipes and the gusty rolling of the drums
seemed to keep time with the swinging step of their camels, till at
last the music grew fitful and faint and died away in the distance.
When the moon was down, about three hours before the dawn,
they halted by a well and slept till daylight, Bakhita and Mea
occupying a little tent apart, which their servants pitched for them,
and the camels grazing upon the desert scrub. While the sky was
still grey, Rupert drank the coffee that had been made for him, and
sent two pannikins of it, with some biscuits, to the women’s tent. One
was kept and one returned untouched.
“Who does not drink?” he asked idly.
“Bakhita, Bey. She says she touches no white man’s liquor.”
“So you know her?” said Rupert.
“Oh, yes, Bey,” answered the man sulkily, “and we shall all of us
know her better before we part, for she is a gipsy from the far desert,
and has the evil eye. I felt cold all down my back when we met her
last night—colder even than when that music played which is made
by ghosts out of the tombs.”
“Those who remain silent cannot speak folly,” said Rupert, in
another proverb, and dismissed the man.
Then they marched on, camping again in the afternoon until the
moon should rise. That night, about one o’clock, they came to the
Sweet Wells, and stopped to give the camels drink and to fill their
water-bags. Rupert had arranged to arrive here at this hour when he
thought that the sheik Ibrahim would be asleep and not likely to
oppose their passage. For the same reason, he kept as far as
possible from the town, if it could be so called, but soon saw that his
progress was being watched, since men were sitting about on sand-
heaps and in the shadow of thorn trees. Indeed, one of these rose
unexpectedly before them and asked who they were and why they
passed through the territory of his chief without offering a present.
By Rupert’s direction the sergeant, Abdullah, answered that they
were a trading party who hoped to see Ibrahim on their return, when
they would make him a good present. He did not add, however, that
it was Rupert’s wish to avoid meeting this truculent and treacherous
man until he had bound over the powerful sheiks who lived beyond
him to the interests of the Government, when, as he knew, he would
have nothing to fear from the chief of the Sweet Wells and his
handful of fighting men.
The sentry answered that it was well, especially as he could not
now see Ibrahim, who had gone away with a number of his tribe,
having ridden towards Wady-Halfa that very day. Then staring hard
at the two veiled women upon their camels, he asked whether the
gipsy, Bakhita, and her daughter were travelling with them. Abdullah
hastily answered no, adding that the two women were his relations
whom he was taking to visit their families. The man said no more, so
with the usual salutations they passed on.
“Why did you say that, Abdullah?” asked Rupert.
“Because, Bey, had he known who these female bringers of ill-luck
are, we should soon have had the whole tribe of them about us. It is
said everywhere that Ibrahim wishes to take the young one, who is a
great chieftainess, for a wife, and that he had sworn to do so.”
“Lies are stones that fall on the head of the thrower,” replied
Rupert, for he was troubled and uneasy, and now wished sincerely
that he had refused to escort Bakhita and her beautiful niece who
made offerings to Egyptian gods to secure a safe journey across the
desert.
He sent for Bakhita and the girl, who guided their camels
alongside of his.
“Tell me,” he said, “what is this story about the lady here and the
sheik Ibrahim, who, it seems, is really looking out for her?”
“What I told you, Bey,” Bakhita answered. “In old days, when
Ibrahim’s tribe was the stronger, our people fought him and drove
him back over the Jebal Marru—that was more than a hundred years
ago. In the summer before last, when my lady of Tama and I, with a
large escort, were coming from our home to the Nile, we camped at
the Sweet Wells and accepted a present of food from the sheik
Ibrahim. In the morning before we marched he visited us, and by
misfortune saw Mea unveiled and was set on fire by her beauty, so
that at once he asked her in marriage, the dog of a Prophet-
worshipper. Having many men with us, I answered him as he
deserved, whereon, growing angry, he replied that that which was
refused could still be taken, but since we had eaten his salt, it must
be done another time. So we parted, for we were too strong to be
attacked. Now through his spies at Luxor and along the Nile he has
learned that Mea is come back, which she did hurriedly when not
expected, because he tried to kidnap her in Luxor itself. So it came
about that I had no escort ready for her. Nor did I dare to stop at
Abu-Simbel, for I heard that he proposed to attack us there so soon
as you were gone, and there was no steamer by which she could
descend the Nile again, whereof his people watch the banks.
Therefore we sought your merciful protection.”
“I think that before all is done you are likely to need it,” said
Rupert, “and were I what I seem that would not trouble me, but now I
am afraid.”
“Let us leave the Bey and take our chance,” said Mea, speaking
across him to her aunt in Arabic. “It is not right that we should bring
him into danger. I told you so from the first.”
“Yes,” answered Bakhita briefly, “if the Bey so wishes.”
Rupert glanced at Mea, who had drawn her veil aside, perhaps
that she might see him better. The moonlight shone upon her sweet
face, and he perceived that her eyes were full of fear. Evidently she
dreaded the sheik very much indeed, who knew that in this lawless
land where might was right, he could take her without question if he
were able, and force her into his harem.
“The Bey does not so wish,” he said. “You are with me; bide with
me. Often the thing we fear does not happen, my lady Tama.”
With a grateful glance and a sigh of relief, Mea let fall her veil
again, and both of them dropped back into their accustomed place in
the caravan. At their next halt Rupert noted that one of Bakhita’s two
attendants remounted his swift dromedary, after it had been watered
and allowed to feed a while, and started forward at a trot. Again he
sent for Bakhita and asked where the man had gone. She answered
that he had been despatched as a messenger to their tribe in the
hope that he would get through the mountains unmolested. His
orders were that, could he succeed in this, he was to collect a
hundred men as soon as possible and bring them to meet their lady.
As it appeared, however, that the oasis which was Mea’s home
could not be reached by the swiftest camel under several days’
journey, Rupert did not concern himself further about the matter.
Only Abdullah grumbled, saying that he believed the man was a spy
who had gone forward to make trouble. For Abdullah, who had
discovered that Bakhita and her three companions were neither
Christians nor Mahommedans, was full of suspicion, especially as he
and the rest of Rupert’s escort were convinced that the old woman
was a witch with the evil eye and probably in the pay of the Khalifa.
Such, indeed, had been her reputation at Abu-Simbel, to which
Bakhita’s curious knowledge of events and private histories, together
with her very remarkable powers of observation, gave much colour.
On the night following that of these events, the party camped by
some water at the foot of the rugged and barren range of hills known
as Jebal Marru, in the very mouth of the pass, indeed, through which
ran the only practicable road, that was used, though rarely, by
travellers journeying from one desert to the other. At its entrance this
path was very narrow, a mere cleft in the rock, not more than fifty or
sixty feet wide, and flanked on either side by sheer cliffs. Here
Rupert and Bakhita and her companions were to part, for his road to
the village of the first sheik whom he was going to visit ran along the
foot of the hills, whereas theirs passed through them. At the earliest
dawn they struck their camp, which they could not do before, since
the road was too rough to attempt in the dark, and Rupert having
seen that everything was in order for the march, went to bid good-
bye to Bakhita and her niece.
While they were thanking him very heartily for his escort in the fine
language common to Orientals, which on this occasion was meant
earnestly enough, Abdullah hurried up and announced, in an
alarmed voice, that a band of over a hundred men, mounted on
camels and horses, was advancing upon them. He added that he
believed them to be the chief Ibrahim and his followers. Instantly
Rupert ordered that all the camels should be driven into the mouth of
the pass, and that the men, with their rifles and a good supply of
ammunition, should take refuge behind the boulders that were
strewn about, in case an attack was contemplated. Then turning to
Bakhita, he said quickly:
“Your camels are good and fresh. If you take my advice you will be
gone. Probably they will not get through us for some time.”
Bakhita said the counsel was wise, and ordered the camel, upon
which she was already seated, to rise; but the girl seemed to
hesitate. Stepping to Rupert as he turned away, she seized his hand
and pressed it against her forehead, murmuring in her peculiar
English:
“This trouble not my fault, all old woman Bakhita’s fault, who think
of nobody but me, not of you at all. I—I think much of you, my heart
sick, I cry my eyes out. Good-bye! God bless you and damn
Ibrahim.”
Even then Rupert could not help smiling at this peculiar valedictory
address. At that moment a man came and spoke to him, and when
next he looked, Bakhita, Mea, and their servant were already
vanishing round the bend of the pass. Now, as he wished to show no
fear, he ordered his men to sit about as though they were still
camping, but to keep their rifles ready, and accompanied by
Abdullah and another soldier, went to a large rock in front of them,
sat down, lit his pipe and waited.
By this time the band was quite close and had halted. Presently
two men rode out from among them, in whom Rupert recognised his
old acquaintance the sheik Ibrahim, and the sentry with whom they
had spoken near the Sweet Wells. Ibrahim rode up, and from a
distance asked if he had peace.
“Those who bring peace find it,” answered Rupert.
Then Ibrahim dismounted and walked forward alone, leaving his
servant to hold his horse. Rupert also walked forward until they met
and exchanged salutations.
“Bey,” said Ibrahim, surveying Rupert’s garb with his flashing eyes,
“you have changed your dress since last we spoke yonder on the hill
above Abu-Simbel. Tell me, have you changed your heart also and
become a servant of the Prophet whom I can greet as brother?”
“You had other names for me than brother at Abu-Simbel,”
answered Rupert evasively. “What is your business, Sheik Ibrahim,
with the merchant Mahommed, who, by the way, offers you his
congratulations, having learned that now you also are a servant of
the Government.”
“My business, Bey,” he replied, “has nothing to with the
Government, or with you. Two women are travelling with you who
are my property. Hand them over to me.”
“Two free women were travelling with me, Sheik, but I cannot give
them to you as they are gone.”
“Whither?” asked Ibrahim.
“Really, I do not know, it is their own affair,” said Rupert calmly.
Now the sheik’s evil temper began to get the better of him.
“You lie,” he said. “I will search your camp, for they are hidden
there.”
“If you wish to find rifle bullets, search,” replied Rupert significantly.
“Listen, Ibrahim! I am camped here, and here I shall stay until you
go, since I do not trust you and will not expose myself to attack upon
the road. If you venture on violence, it is possible that you may
succeed, since my mission is peaceful and I have but few men. But
then the Khedive, your lord, will stamp you out, you and your tribe,
and so there will be an end of an evil and dangerous man. I have
spoken, go in peace.”
“By Allah! no,” shouted the Arab, “I come in war, for besides that of
these women there is an old account to settle between you and me,
who caused my town to be raided by the Government of Egypt, my
women to be insulted, and my herds to be taken. Choose now. Hand
over to me your camels, your merchandise and your arms, and of my
mercy I will let you go. Resist, and I will take them all and offer to
you, infidel, the choice between death and Islam.”
“Empty drums make a loud noise,” replied Rupert contemptuously,
whereon the Arab, lifting the spear which he carried, hurled it at him.
Rupert sprang to one side, so that the weapon missed him by a
hair’s-breadth.
“Now,” he said, “I can shoot you if I wish; but I will not forget my
honour because you forget yours. Dog! God will avenge your
treachery on you.”
“By my beard!” roared the Arab, “I will avenge Allah on you—yes,
your infidel lips shall kiss his holy name.”
Then Rupert walked towards his men, who were running out to his
assistance.
“Back,” he said, “and take cover. Ibrahim is about to attack us.”
So they went back and, since flight seemed utterly impracticable,
having hastily tethered the camels in a recess of the cliff out of reach
of rifle fire, lay down, every man behind a rock. Here Rupert
addressed them, telling them what had passed, and saying they
must either fight or be robbed and made prisoners, which would
probably mean their death, since Ibrahim would not dare to allow any
of them to live and be witnesses against him when he was brought to
account for this great crime. Therefore, though they were but few, as
they, mounted on camels, could not run from horsemen, it was wise
that they should do their best.
The soldiers, who were all of them brave men, answered that it
was so, they were few, still they would fight and try to beat off these
Arabs. Only Abdullah looked downcast, and added that this trouble
came upon them through the women, and that it would have been
good to give them to Ibrahim.
“Would you think so if they were your wives or daughters?” asked
Rupert scornfully. “How could I surrender them who had eaten of my
bread and salt? Also they have gone. But if you are afraid, Abdullah,
do you take a camel and follow them. The rest of us will hold the
pass and give you time to get away.”
Now some of the servants began to mock Abdullah and to call him
“woman” and “coward.”
So the man grew ashamed and said that he would show them that
he was as brave as they.
Then a rifle bullet, evidently aimed at Rupert, who was standing up
to address the soldiers, whistled past his head and flattened on the
rock behind. The fight had begun.
Rupert saw the man who had fired the shot from the back of his
camel about two hundred yards away, for the smoke hung over him.
Snatching up the Winchester repeating rifle which he carried, he set
the sight rapidly, aimed and fired. He was an excellent game and
target shot, nor did his skill fail him now. Almost instantly they heard
the clap of a bullet and saw the Arab—it was that very sentry with
whom they had spoken at the Sweet Wells—throw up his arms and
pitch heavily from the saddle to the ground.
The soldiers shouted, thinking this a good omen, and at once
opened fire, killing or wounding several of their enemies, whereon
the Arabs hastened to take shelter, sending their horses and camels
out of reach of the bullets.
The mouth of the pass was strewn with large stones, and creeping
from one to another of them, the Arabs advanced slowly, pouring in a
heavy fire as they came. As it chanced, this did but little damage, for
Rupert’s cover was good, while as they moved forward his rifles
found out several of them. Thus things went on for a full hour, till at
length Rupert saw the head of a soldier near him, who had
incautiously exposed himself, drop forward on to the rock. He was
shot through the brain, and immediately afterwards one of his
comrades, who rose to lift him, thinking that he might be only
wounded, received a bullet in the shoulder.
So the fight stood for all that live-long day. No more men were hit,
for after this lesson they dared not show themselves, and unless
they did so, the enemy did not fire. There they lay, cramped up
behind their stones and baked in the burning sun. Of food they had
plenty, but as it happened the water, of which there was none here,
was scarce, for they had used nearly all of it on the previous night,
expecting to be able to refill their bags at a well a little further along
the mountains. Although it was husbanded, soon the last drop had
been drunk, so that towards evening they began to suffer from thirst.
At length the sun sank and the darkness came.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE END OF THE FIGHT
Now during all these weary hours Rupert had been taking counsel
with himself. He was skilled in Arab warfare, and guessed that
Ibrahim’s plan was not to attempt to rush him in the daylight, which
at best would cost him many more men and might mean defeat, but
to get among his little band with the spear under cover of the night,
or perhaps just at the break of dawn. Utterly outnumbered as they
were, to such a move as this there could be but one end—
annihilation. It was, however, possible that it would not be made; that
the Arabs would be content to continue their present tactics, knowing
that Rupert had no hope of succour, and that soon or late thirst must
conquer him. Therefore it would seem that he was driven to choose
between two alternatives—surrender or retreat. He gathered his men
together and addressed them through the darkness, not hiding from
them how desperate he thought their plight.
Under the circumstances, he said, if they wished to surrender he
would not forbid them, only then he believed that whatever promises
were made, they would all be killed, or at the best taken away and
sold as slaves to the Khalifa, or his emirs, with whom, doubtless,
Ibrahim was in league. For himself, however, he should certainly not
surrender, but choosing the best place he could find, fight on till he
was killed like Gordon.
With one voice the soldiers said they would not suffer this; their
business was to die with their captain, not desert him: they were
Soudanese and men, not Fellaheen.
He thanked them simply, and put before them the second
alternative—that of retreat. The pass behind them was open, though
none of them had ever travelled it, and a map he had showed a
water-hole about some thirty miles away in the desert beyond, which
they might reach. Or failing that, when they were clear of the pass
they could turn and skirt along the mountains, taking their chance of
water and of safety. Or they could try to cut their way back to Wady-
Halfa, a thing however that seemed hopeless, since if they got
through, they would be overtaken, surrounded and picked off in the
open desert.
Having discussed the matter among themselves the men
announced their decision that flight was best. For the rest, they said,
they resigned themselves to el Mektub which means “to that which is
written”; or in other words, to Destiny. Then Rupert called the roll to
see that all were present. Two did not answer to their names—the
dead man and the sergeant Abdullah. At first it was thought that the
latter had been killed also, till someone remembered that early in the
afternoon he had gone to tend and feed the camels, since when he
had not been seen. Afterwards it was discovered that, anticipating
his commander’s plan, he had already retreated—with the best
camel—an act of cowardice which, it will be seen, produced very
grave results to Rupert, and indeed profoundly influenced his
subsequent career. For here it may be said at once that Abdullah got
back to the Nile in safety by skirting round the mountains, and
needless to add, made his own report to the authorities, which, as it
happened, there was no one to contradict.
Now, their counsel taken, the little band set themselves to carry it
out as best they could without delay, since they knew not at what
moment the attack might be delivered. First they built a fire of
whatever material they could collect and lit it, so as to suggest to the
Arabs that they remained in camp there. Also, having said the
prayers for the dead over him, they set their fallen companion behind
a stone, above which one hand and his rifle projected, in such a
position that the light of the fire fell upon them. Two of the worst
camels also they left behind, that their roaring might deceive the
enemy into the belief that the caravan had not moved. This done
they started as noiselessly as possible, only to find that their task
was more difficult even than they thought.
The moon not being up, the darkness in that narrow gorge was
intense; moreover, the pass was strewn with boulders and pitted with
holes washed out by water, in one of which a camel soon broke its
leg and had to be killed with a knife and left with its valuable load.
Not half a mile further on another camel fell over a bank or precipice
—they could not tell which—and vanished, while a man twisted his
ankle, and a second, stumbling, struck his forehead against a stone
and cut it badly. After this Rupert ordered a halt till the moon rose
since to proceed was practically impossible. At length the moon
came, but the sky was cloudy, also she was on the wane; so they
found themselves but little better off in that deep gulf. Still they
struggled on, praying for daylight, and taking comfort from the
thought that if the Arabs followed, matters would be equally bad for
them.
The sky turned grey, the dawn broke, and then with the startling
suddenness that will be familiar to all travellers in the Egyptian
desert, the sun rose, and by its light they pushed forward. For a mile
or so all went well till they came to a place where the pass opened
out, and its sides, no longer precipitous, were clothed with scrub and
boulders. Then suddenly from behind one of these boulders rang out
a rifle shot. A few yards ahead, in the centre of the valley, was a little
hill or kopje, also boulder-strewn, and understanding at once what
had happened, namely, that the Arabs, foreseeing this retreat,
probably on the previous afternoon, had sent most of their force over
the mountains to waylay them, Rupert shouted to his band to make
for this kopje and hold it.
They did so under a fierce fire, but as the Arab shooting was bad
and the mist still hung at the bottom of the valley, without much loss.
On the kopje were two or three of the enemy’s marksmen whom they
dislodged and killed. Then taking the best positions they could find,
the little company prepared itself to inflict all the damage it could
upon its foes before it met its inevitable doom. Although a man fell
now and again this was delayed for several hours, until at length the
rest of the Arabs, who had followed them down the pass, arrived.
Then came the last bitter struggle. Such things sound heroic to tell
of—the forlorn stands of the few against the many always do—but in
practice they are only dreadful; the glory is naught but a residuum
deposited in the cauldrons of their sanguinary and seething horror by
the powerful precipitants of distance, romance, and time.
Thus this last desperate fight of a few wearied men against many
may be noble to read of, but in fact it was merely hideous. Brave
things were done by these black Soudanese, who, if they are well
led and trust their leader, will not surrender with a loss of about five
per cent in killed and wounded; indeed surrender was talked of no
more. But though it was emphasised thereby, who could think of
gallantry when a man shot through the bowels lay writhing on the
ground beside him, cursing and praying by turns, but still loading his
gun, and, in the pauses of his paroxysms, bringing other men to their
death. When the tongue is hanging from the jaws with thirst, when
the brows throb with fatigue and pain, and the heart is well-nigh
bursting with rage, grief for those who will be seen no more, and
apprehensions of the dreadful end, who can think of the cup and
chaplets of fame, and the empty trappings of honour?
At least Rupert could not. He fought on grimly; he did his best.
Two rushes he repelled, for now that their fire slackened, the Arabs
were trying to make an end of them with the spear. In the intervals
that followed these rushes Rupert thought of Edith. He wondered
what she was doing, and remembered that without doubt she would
be comfortably in bed and asleep, dreaming no dreams of him and
his sore plight. He wondered if when he died, as he must do in a few
minutes, it would wake her, or whether she would still sleep on as his
spirit passed. Then he remembered the other woman, that strange,
high-bred native girl, and it came into his mind that she would wake
however sound she slept, and that there would be vengeance taken
for this death of his, the wild vengeance of the desert. Next he forgot
all such things, and shook a dying comrade by the hand.
“Kismet!” said the man, with a ghastly smile, “and we have killed
more of them than they can kill of us. The water of the Sweet Wells
will be bitter for a while. Allah is good and Paradise pleasant. Are
you hurt, Bey?”
“Not yet,” he answered, “but wait, I come presently. Ah! that got
him fair.”
“No, don’t come,” answered the man, “live on if you may. He who
lives long sees much, and amongst other things vengeance on his
enemies. Live on, and you will see the sheik Ibrahim hanging to the
bough of a thorn.”
Then the soldier grunted, rolled on to his face, and was dead.

Puffs of smoke spurted from behind rocks; spears shone in the


sunlight; hoarse voices announced the fact which nobody
contradicted—that Allah was great and Mahomet was his prophet;
here and there men fell forward or backward, still declaring that Allah
was great, and instantly departed from the body to put the argument
to proof. Blood ran in thin, black streams, and was soaked up by the
thankful soil; men died beneath the hands of their fellow-men as in
this devil-ridden world they have done from the beginning, and will
do till the end. Untouched by some miracle, Rupert still fought on.
His rifle was empty; a tall, bearded Arab had fallen before its last
shot. Then quite close to him he saw Ibrahim, and remembering his
revolver, drew it, when suddenly a heavy blow from behind felled him
to the ground.
Rupert came to himself again, and by degrees understood dimly
that he was not dead, since he lay where he had fallen, and all about
him were slain and wounded men. Near by, also, stood two of his
own people, captives, with their hands tied behind them. The sheik
Ibrahim was questioning them, promising them life if they would tell
him where they had hidden away the gipsy Bakhita and her
companion, the lady Mea. They answered that they accepted his
terms, and would do so with pleasure. They were hidden in the
desert, whither they had departed before the beginning of the fight,
so if he wanted them he had best go look for them there.
This answer seemed to infuriate the sheik, who called to some of
his people to kill “these dogs.” They came, whereon the two men,
putting down their heads, butted at them like rams, and knocking one
of them down, jumped and trampled on his face until the cruel
swords did their work with them and they died there. Then the
wounded were killed also, so that presently, of all his company,
Rupert alone was left alive.
Now they caught hold of him and asked him questions about the
women, but he pretended not to be able to speak because of thirst,
pointing to his throat and mouth. The artifice succeeded, for they
brought him water, of which he stood in terrible need. The bowl was
large, but he emptied all of it, and felt his life come back to him. Now
Ibrahim addressed him.
“Dog of an unbeliever,” he said, “you see that your cunning and
courage have not availed against the decrees of Allah who has
destroyed all your band!”
“It is so,” answered Rupert; “but he seems to have destroyed
many of yours also. Here I count over twenty of your dead, and thirty
wounded. Allah is just, and takes life for life.”
“Blaspheme not, dog! Of Allah I will speak to you afterwards. Tell
me—where are the women?”
“Those brave men whom you murdered after promising them their
lives have told you; they are in the desert. Go; search for them there.
Come; I tire of this talk. Murder me also, and begone to meet the
doom that God prepares in this world and the next for the traitor and
the liar.”
“You wish to die, then?” asked Ibrahim, lifting his spear.
“Aye; why not? My people are slaughtered; I would join them.
Also, I must make report of you and your deeds, and prepare you a
place.”
The Arab dropped his spear; Rupert’s words seemed to frighten
him.
“Not yet, nor so swiftly,” he said. “Bind him and put him on a
camel. He shall see us catch these women, and after that we will
judge him according to the law.”
So they tied Rupert with ropes, and set him on his own dromedary.
Presently he started forward with the Arabs—about forty of them.
The rest were either dead or wounded, or had been left to convey
the latter and the rich booty, including the thousand pounds in gold,
back to the Sweet Wells. At the mouth of the pass, a few miles
further on, they searched, and in some soft soil found the spoor of
the camels ridden by Bakhita, Mea, and their servant, and seeing
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