I can remember an incident that happened with my mother when I was 16 years of age. This of course happened in Panama, where I spent my high school years. Before I go into my little altercation I had with my mother, I would like to say something about her. Like my father, I would say my mother was a liberal in her thinking, and as she aged, again like my father, she became even more open in her beliefs about life, people, government and religion. That does not mean that was skeptical about faith or belief in God, though she was wary of organized religion and she would often speak to me about that. For I was a devout catholic, and she worried that because of that, I would be unable to think for myself. So she would challenge me on certain points, and tell me to always think for myself, work it out; don’t let others tell you what to believe. I guess on some level that worked, for she would say something about my faith and I would go and study it and come back with an answer. I guess that is one of the main reasons I stayed in the church; I spent a lot of time answering her objections. She always thought that funny. It was her questioning me, and my studying, that kept me in the faith.
She was very open to others, and all were welcomed within its walls. Race, religion, social status, did not matter to either my father, or my mother to an even greater extent, and the mix of people who liked to come into our humble abode was varied and often very interesting. I would often prefer to stay and listen to the adults talk, than go outside and play, some pretty interesting things were talked about.
So the day I had my little discussion with my mother was an eye-opener for me. Not so much about my mother but more about the complexity that makes up what it means to be human. At the time I was dating a girl who was the offspring of a mixed marriage. White father and a black mother, so she was a beautiful latte color, and also at least for me, gorgeous, intelligent and best of all, a great dancer. A very important consideration for me at that time in my life, for I loved to dance. So out of the blue my mother said: “Mark why are you dating Ann (not her real name), you know that she is half black?” I was surprised by the question, but I answered “yes mom I know, what of it?” The question was not answered, for I think my mother felt embarrassed that she caught herself in a prejudice that she perhaps thought she did not have, but surfaced because of the situation of having a son dating someone from a mixed marriage.
People like to think that the loss of innocence happens only once. I suppose in a way that is true, but there are times when ‘lesser’ innocence’s are lost, when the world changes after some incident or another. I went away and thought about what my mother said and came to the conclusion that there are cultural prejudices that are absorbed and cannot be gotten rid of, they will always be part of ones life, and often a cause of embarrassment and bafflement.
Prejudgments are almost always false, or with just enough truth in them to be very dangerous. The greatest and hardest prejudice to get rid of or those that pertains to race, tribe, and religion; well I guess that pretty much covers it all anyway. I also came to the conclusion that I also had them, for being my mother’s son; I was certain that were unconsciously passed on to me. The above incident being perhaps one of many, they were just less obvious. Which over the years have proven to be true.
I am not sure people who have prejudices are a threat, since I would imagine it is very wide spread, it is a basic component to belonging to a species that has to strive to be rational and at times, even harder to be loving and just, which I guess is also part of rationality. The real danger is when people believe that their prejudicial thoughts are actually true, based on reality, which leads to a great deal of trouble when acted out. I would think most people have been the victim of some form of bigotry or another. Which is often experienced as a violation of sorts, and I guess that is exactly what it is. To reduce a complex, intelligent, human being to the level of something inferior, is truly a despicable act, so it behooves us to be aware of our own propensity to that condition. Prejudice when all grown up becomes bigotry, which is probably one of the main causes of suffering world wide.
I remember an incident that happened to me about 15 years ago in a McDonald’s restaurant off Panola road, in Metropolitan Atlanta. I walked in to order some lunch and was totally ignored by the staff there; it was like I was invisible, non-existent, a non-person. It was a very embarrassing situation for me, and I became very angry, but did not act out, just left and fumed in my car. So I was there feeling all violated and everything, when it occurred to me that this was the first time I was picked out because of race. So I stayed with the rage and then wondered if those black men and women who did this to me, perhaps they have experienced this quite often in their lives, or perhaps their parents did, in any case I got a small taste of what some people experience on a daily basis all over the world. It gave me some understanding of the rage that can be ignited by this kind of treatment; the thought of it still stings. They were wrong in what they did, but the root cause goes deep, perhaps impossible to dig out totally. In any case it helped me to have some empathy on what it is like to be looked down upon because I don’t have a certain skin tone. Besides I am not white, I am pink, sheets are white, skin is pink if it cannot tan, which is me.
I think I can be part of the problem if I don’t continue to watch my little baby bigot that sleeps down deep, it’s dreams are my petty little prejudices, but if it wakes up, like it seems to be doing in many, well then the nightmares start. The truth, we are all pretty much the same. The lie is that I am better than others because of race, religion, social status. The latter for some reason, irrational as it is, seems easier to believe at times. Perhaps it is a miracle that we do as well as we do, or on a deeper level it is grace at work.
Br. Mark Dohle, OCSO
