If life gives you lemons

Essay 3 Draft 2: Perspective

     I am a male. My ancestors are from Europe. I am Christian, and more specifically Mormon. I am in the middle class of my society. I am American. In all of these cases but one I am the majority. And being Mormon makes my religion in the minority. I have encountered racism. I have seen discrimination. I have been raised in the age where equality among groups is paramount. I have learned about racism since I was a young child. This is part of my story of how I too am a victim of it.

            Back in the second grade, my teacher talked about Martin Luther King Jr. I remember learning that he was killed because he was black. It didn’t make sense to me why he would be killed because he was black. I knew Abraham Lincoln was killed because people didn’t like him and he was in a war, but why die because you were black? The third grade came and I learned that white people hated black people. That white people would hurt and kill black people, because white people were prejudice. I learned that this was wrong. I’m not supposed to hate black people because they are black. I shouldn’t be prejudice to them. The fourth, fifth, and sixth grade years passed as well. My encounters with racism were located exclusively in the classroom when my teacher talked about how white people are still prejudice to black people. Each year I learned that we the white people need to stop being prejudice against black people. I never understood why I was still prejudice. I thought that I didn’t have a problem with blacks. But every year, I was told that prejudice still exists and if I could change how I viewed black people that it would stop.

            In junior high I learned more about the civil rights movement. I learned the tragedies of the south during the 1950’s and 1960’s. I learned about Emmit Till, Burmingham, and the KKK. White people hated black people (sorry I should say African Americans). This hatred was still prevalent today and if I could only change my prejudices then I could stop it. I was being told that I still hold the prejudices of African Americans. I haven’t even encountered an African American, so how do I know if I’m prejudice to them? And how do the teachers know that I still need to change?

            High School began my rebellious phase for the civil rights movement. It was at this time that I learned about the feminist movement. Men were scum, women didn’t need them. I wondered to myself
“how am I holding women back too?” I soon realized that I wasn’t holding women back or African Americans and if I wasn’t holding these two groups back then why should I keep learning about how much I need to change and become a better white person. I developed a hate of every feminist that was extreme (i.e. women who believe that men should never exist). Now, before you begin judging me as a “hater,” understand that I was and am for equal rights. I don’t think that it’s fair that white males get paid more than white females or black men. I have always held that no matter the race or gender, we should be treated with the same respect. I have always been ashamed of anyone who believes they are better than someone else based on gender or race. Even though I hold these values, I am still the one that is the bad guy. I cannot begin to count all of the complaints about men I heard during my High School days. Everyday another woman would tell me how much of a scum bag I was and how I need to change to make life more tolerable for her. After eight years of hearing how I need to change my perceptions on the world and that learning that each year I had gotten nowhere to improving conditions for any minority, I got sick of it. Nothing I did ever helped the relations between my kind and the oppressed. So, I rebelled.

            In truth I never did anything about the complaints made to me. My rebellion was internal. I knew that if I tried to fight back and tell my accusers to lay off and don’t group men/whites like that I would forever be known as a sexist pig and a bigoted man. I’d rather take insults and complaints that had no grounding than begin acting like the stereotypical “white male.”

      A result of my pushing back against the world that kept telling me I was wrong was that I began defending controversial topics. Perhaps not defending, but looking at them from the “other” side to understand their perspective. An example of this was when I heard about a Middle Eastern woman who was stopped at an airport for a “random” check. She became very defensive and started shouting that the only reason she was being searched was because she was Middle Eastern. This conflict ended with her being tazed. Was this racial profiling? Yes. But instead of rushing immediately to her side and sympathize with her plight, I looked at the security guards. These individuals are responsible for the safety of thousands of passengers. I cannot blame them if they see fit to do a not so “random” check. Many past terrorist activities involving plans were taken part by those who looked/were Middle Eastern. If I was in their shoes I would be more inclined to do a “random” check on someone with a Middle Eastern appearance than someone who looked Spanish.

            Because I was use to looking at both sides, I really wanted to be a minority for a change. This opportunity came when I was lucky enough to spend two years on a tropical island called La Reunion. Also I wanted see how prejudice I was against people of color. Despite all my learning about racism as a child, I never encountered African Americans (which incidentally I learned that using this label is offensive to some blacks – I can never be right). I wanted to encounter blacks; I wanted to learn why people hated them and if I would be one of those who are prejudice. The moment I stepped on the island my majorities became minorities. I loved it; for once I was the minority. I didn’t have to worry about being politically correct. I didn’t have to worry about people calling me bigoted and stating that I have to change. I could fling those comments on other individuals that I thought weren’t as good as they could be (not that I ever would, but I liked holding that power). This is what I thought, and I was wrong, yet again.

     There is one experience that proved me wrong which I look back upon and smile. I was at the bus stop and an elderly Chinese man came up to me. His eyes were squinting because of the sun, I looked at him and smiled and I was about to enter the bus when I noticed he wanted to say something to me. I looked at him and politely smiled when he raised his hands. I looked down and they were making a familiar gesture. I never thought that man’s middle fingers could get so straight. After this initial shock the elderly man proceeded to swear at me using the most profane English he learned in school. He rant was about how I was a Bush supporter (President Bush) and that I need to go back to America to tell him to stop attacking other countries. I should’ve known that this was coming, but I was hoping to finally lay to rest my being the majority for a while. However, he proved to me that even in the minority I was still the majority and everything happening in the world was my fault.

            It’s as if everyone who isn’t Male, White, American, and Christian expects that my actions alone will be able to relieve the suffering they feel due to “my kind”. I don’t remember ever hearing one word of encouragement or congratulations for not being a sexist racist pig bigot. The most I ever got was a “you’re not included in the group that we are talking about.” Or in other words, “your still part of them, you just haven’t screwed up yet.”

As part of the majority I have face much reverse prejudice. I have seen the look in people’s eyes that show fear. Imagine walking down the street, looking at someone and getting the distinct impression that they fear you. This makes you feel like some sort of monster. Now there are people who enjoy this, but I am not one of them. I hate that immediate tension as we talk. The individual is on guard and I feel like I’m stepping on egg shells. He is waiting for an attack and so am I. He waits for me to degrade him, and I wait for him to accuse me. Our conversation remains superficial to avoid giving the other anything to use against us. Our handshake is brief as we say goodbye and part ways. There is relief as we turn our backs upon each other, hoping that our conversation partner isn’t a criminal. This is what prejudice has not only done to minorities, but the majority as well.