Reconciliation: Day Six

No attempt at reconciliation could succeed without a discussion of the intemperate language that has pervaded our society. One must look no further than a typical comment-stream on You Tube to witness the degradation of our ability to discuss even the most sublime Mozart sonata without resorting, within ten exchanges, to “MFs,” and worse.

What has happened to us? I don’t know. In my youth, knowing adults used the word “prejudice” to warn us against pre-judging others without beginning to understand the issues behind their life. There were no outright power dynamics involved, but prejudice was filled with the subterranean seeds from which could grow a stronger and more active predilection: bigotry.

We were quick to replace the word “prejudice” with “bigotry,” which implies not only discriminatory thought but behavior as well. Thus, those who grew up with unfounded impressions suddenly became bigots. Would the trials of carrying a name eventually affect behavior? Maybe.

It got worse. Both terms were replaced by “racism,” or the use of power to retain power over others by whatever means necessary. Soon, the mildest expression of negative thought toward a person of a different background was termed racism, and the accusations continue to fly until this very day. Reconciliation was tossed into the same linguistic bonfire as understanding, civility, good manners, and friendly discussion.

Why bring this up? To me, prejudice is a condition that one can work on and stifle in its infancy. Perhaps the first step is an admission that it exists. Any time I hear someone deny that they are at all prejudiced, warning bells go off. To doubt a person fully would be an act of prejudice itself, but warning bells are warning bells and useful at times.

Following self-awareness, a second step might involve an attempt at understanding, and a comparison of backgrounds. It happened this way with me. One day I realized that there was no way in the world I could fully comprehend the effect on me had I heard a 16-year old call my 45-year old father “boy.” Nor could I comprehend how it must have felt to see any depiction of my race in the movies as a “happy domestic slave” or a shiftless, stumbling idiot. As someone once remarked, it wasn’t the fact that Lincoln Theodore Monroe Andrew Perry, better known by the stage name “Stepin Fetchit,” consistently portrayed lazy, shiftless black men. The real tragedy was that he was so good at it.

We remain stuck with our prejudices, as F. Scott Fitzgerald said, “… boats against the current.” I must fight the inclination to regard the uneducated as slow-witted, although my own father, with an 8^th-grade rural education could work algebraic equations in his head without ever having studied algebra. Then there was my father-in-law, blessed with a similar educational background, who could construct an entire house without ever making a mark upon a sheet of paper. My sainted mother read my college books, including Dostoyevsky, while I was visiting home.

The list goes on, and includes the self-taught technician who can stand ten feet away from a malfunctioning automobile engine and diagnose its problem. What a wondrous and diverse world we live in, if we only stop to observe it without pre-judging. (Oh, that pesky Galilean keeps interfering).

My own promise today is to work on my prejudices, and hope, beyond hope, that they never progress into bigotry or racism. That will keep me busy enough that I shouldn’t have time to think ill of you. It should also keep me away from comment threads. I’ll try. In the meantime, I’ll follow the advice of my long-time hero, who said: