While on Facebook, I had an interesting discussion about the
history of bigotry with someone. I was told because I didn’t major in the subject
while I was in college, I really had no proof of
what I believed in was accurate.
As a Virgo, a sensitive one at that, it got my blood boiling.
Ever since I was a small child,
I cared about something. Animals, birds, fish (passed on reptiles…didn’t want
them hurt…I just preferred not to deal with them.) As I grew older (age 5), I
developed a love of books. All kinds of different
books. I read voraciously, even some books which had words I didn’t know. If
so, I went running to my parents to pronounce the word and tell me what it meant.
They never once denied me or made fun of me. My mother encouraged me to read
more, learn things.
By the time I went from grade thru to high school I had hounded the school librarian and city librarian
for books to read. Once the city librarian told my mother I had read everything
she recommended. My mother responded with, “Let her read adult books. She can
handle them.”
So I read and read and read. Even absorbed some non-fiction,
especially when I wanted to know about what I read in fiction books. Was it
true? Were the facts correct? Some weren’t. Most were. Many facts made me cry by learning more.
Even so, I grew up in a conservative, small town in Western
Kansas and had my own share of unfairness (being Catholic in a mostly Protestant
town). But, I loved living there. Then I went off to college and had my eyes
opened to a whole new world I had not considered. In my naivety while growing
up in a small town, I never knew there was true bigotry out there…worse than
anything I could have ever experienced.
Once in my college political studies class, we were debating Civil Rights. It was in the late 60s, and a big discussion had ensured. With my Cinderella
glasses on (yes a vintage old term), I seriously asked, why couldn’t the Negroes
be patient? In time the US would come to accept them as equal? Why did they
have to protest and rebel now?”
A young black man, whom I had gotten to know in class and admired
very much, spoke up,
“Christine, how much longer do we have to wait? We’ve been waiting for over hundreds of years.
No one will just hand over equality to us without knowing the truth about us.”
He said it quietly, no anger, no condemnation, just an honest, heartfelt response. I sat back stunned. Not
once had I ever been given a more complete, and calm definitive answer about a
social issue. Not once had I considered there could be fine lines of
differences.
From that day on, as I went from class to class, I looked at
others. Not as different but as equal. It got me to ponder…Had I wronged others
without thinking?
As my education grew in college (many history classes as
well), so did my opinions and beliefs. I vowed, to the best of my human ability,
I would try and stand up for others no matter what.
Thirty years later I still adhere to that vow. Because of
it, I have lost friends…and some dearly-beloved family members…but I have also
gained many friends, ones who accept me for who I am.
To be fair, and because of
this growth, I also realize I often come across as a fanatic or unreasonable,
but that’s who I have become. A sensitive woman who’s not afraid to speak her
mind.
I stand by who I am.
