The Awkward Space Between: A Chef’s Journey Through Cultural Identity
Presented by Navajo Technical University
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By Andrea Murdoch
Dave Matthews might have been singing “The Space Between” back in 2001, but I have been living in the awkward ‘spaces between’ societal groups since 1986.
Growing up in rural Ohio, I didn’t realize how different I was and neither did most of the people in my town. I am an adopted, Andean native from Venezuela. My mother is Polish-American and my father is Scottish, English-American with a pinch of Seminole mixed in. I grew up with what I now call “secondary white privilege.” Everyone knew everyone in my town, especially the cops. I was not harassed in school because no one could tell “what I was” and therefore couldn’t zero in on a course of bullying.
One time, I was pulled over for going through an intersection while the light was yellow. The cop confirmed my school, which sports I played, who my parents were, then proceeded to let me go. Had I not had white parents and lived outside of town, I would have had a very different experience (as told by my black colleague) when I was 17 years old.
As I have gained life experience, started an Indigenous food business, become an advocate and activist for my communities, I have become acutely aware of all of the in-between spaces in which I exist.
There are the obvious lines to straddle — such as being brown in a white-run world, being a woman in a world dominated by men, being Indigenous in a colonized world, etc. Each of these awkward spaces has their own nuances for me, but the most awkward space is that within my family.
I never call my family my “adoptive family.” DNA is only one element of a family, it’s not required. I refer to the woman who carried me as my “human incubator.” She gave me physical life, but my parents gave me life. There is a difference, and you only understand it if you have chosen family members who have chosen you back. There is very little that I would not do for those I call family.
Still, a regular conundrum is the sharing of my ideas, feelings, and experiences with my family as they are white and I am brown. They will never feel a fraction of my life experiences, both chosen and those thrust upon me by society. This limits their ability to understand, sympathize, and even empathize, no matter how genuinely kind and open-minded they are. I am a very proud, two-spirited, Andina-entrepreneur, but none of those identities are my family’s identity.
I am the first in my family to become an entrepreneur. I am the first to be openly two-spirited, or otherwise part of the LGBTQ+ community. I am the only brown, adopted family member. I am the only chef. My family has infinite love for me and I have infinite love for them. But that doesn’t make certain conversations any easier.
The term “white privilege” is difficult for some in my family to digest. It isn’t because they don’t understand that the lack of melanin in their skin gives them an advantage in this world, they do. But rather, the issue is with the word ‘privilege.’ Part of my mother’s family were potato farmers, so they did not have a lot of money. Their obstacle is with the financial element that is attached to the word privilege, and I have a very difficult time explaining that white privilege has a deeper meaning (while remaining patient as I attempt to gently educate them on being brown in Amerikkka).
Ethnic, racial, and cultural identity coupled with abandoned feelings as an adopted individual are difficult to navigate and understand. In addition to all of that, I am partially responsible for educating others. To be clear — I am no one’s queer or brown sherpa. I am, however, responsible for setting healthy boundaries for myself that allow me to share my experiences with others so that we can all learn, grow, and evolve in a safe way.
I know that I have to do a better job of being patient with my family, as I shed my shyness about speaking with them concerning the issues that matter to me most in this life. I also know that I need them to be more proactive in their personal education of accurate Indigenous history.
Knowledge is power.
I feel honored every time I have the opportunity to share Indigenous knowledge with others, and even more proud when Indigenous knowledge is shared with me. This is magnified by the fact that I do not have Indigenous aunties and abuelas to pass down traditional knowledge. In my mind, there is nothing kinder or more generous than when traditional knowledge is shared with me freely and without judgement.
Education, community work, sourcing local ingredients, and sourcing Indigenous ingredients are the four pillars of my business.
I want the exchange of cultural knowledge to continue. I want our existing Indigenous infrastructures to grow, and for additional Indigenous infrastructures to be created. I want more of our communities to find stability and healing in sovereignty.
Pride in my cultural identity is the reason why I do what I do. I might live in and between all of these awkward spaces. But the most important element of my life is that I don’t simply exist — I thrive — as I flow through these spaces.
Navajo Technical University, like all tribal colleges and universities, grew out of a prayer in the 1960s that envisioned all tribes moving toward self-determination by expressing their sovereignty and establishing their own institutions of higher education. It was as a result of this movement that NTU began as the Navajo Skill Center in 1979 to meet the immediate needs of an unemployed population on the Navajo Nation.
Students enrolled to learn the rudiments of a trade, graduated, and joined the workforce; however, it soon became clear that the students wanted more. In 1985 the Board of Directors changed the Skill Center’s name to Crownpoint Institute of Technology and in November 2006 the Navajo Nation Council approved changing the name to Navajo Technical College. In 2013, NTC became NTU - becoming the first university established on the Navajo Nation.
Today, NTU is one of the premier institutions of higher education in the nation, providing a unique balance between science and technology and culture and tradition. Much of what guides NTU’s success is our mission and our identity rooted in the Diné Philosophy of Education.
Andrea Murdoch (Andina) is the founder and chef of Four Directions Cuisine based in Denver, Colorado. The four main pillars of the business are: source locally, source Indigenous, community, and cultural education. She is also an advocate of mental health awareness.
Find more of Chef Andreas work: online at Four Directions Cuisine; on Facebook at Four Directions Cuisine, LLC; and on Instagram @fourdirectionscuisine.
Opinions expressed in this article do not necessarily represent the views of Best Served. To achieve our mission of bringing more voices to the table, we are committed to sharing a variety of viewpoints across the industry.
