Leo Tolstoy
And here is my effort.
Staying at a resort budding with tourists on their holidays, my son Malik and I were waiting in a crowded lobby for the elevator to reach our floor. To kill boredom, we counted the floor numbers appearing above its doors. I guess it was a pretty endearing sight seeing a 3 year old, in a shrill and over-excited voice, count, incorrectly, in English. So endearing that it caught the attention of a bearded Middle Eastern man and a woman wearing a black burqa.
In other social settings, I would have politely avoided contact, in respect to our different life choices. I assume that my wearing shorts and, compared to the burqa, revealing clothing, I would somehow offend them.
But perhaps I was a bit curious or wanted to raise my son free of labels. Or perhaps I wanted to teach myself a lesson. Usually it's all of the above.
So I asked Malik to say hi to them and anticipated him to gawk. I prepared myself to give him a simple explanation so that he could learn, because I expected him to be nervous or uncomfortable to see an otherwise unusual sight.
He wasn't.
He waved at them and smiled. To which both responded with extended hands and huge toothy grins. "Salaam," the man kindly said, a genuine smile on his face.
Throughout the interaction, I didn't even make eye contact for fear that I might offend. Psychology and sociology theories state that human beings have a tendency to fear what they don't understand, and to cure the fear, one needs to understand.
But my son doesn't yet understand and he had no fears.
Children don't (yet) see the world in black-and-white. I remember sitting next to a middle-aged British businessman on a flight a few years back. An expat in Indonesia, he put his son in a local school to learn the Indonesian language. When his son left the country, a classmate gave him a drawing of several children. All of them had brown skin; most of them had black eyes, and one had blue.
"The blue eyed one was my son," the man kindly said, a genuine smile on his face, "Painted in the same skin colour, the drawer saw my son as one of them who simply had different coloured eyes."
Too much do I read about prejudice and bigotry and stereotyping. Too much is our society driven by hate rooted in misunderstanding. We proudly think that we should 'educate' our children to tolerate, respect and understand the concept of a plural society.
At that resort, I planned to teach my son how to be free of labels. Turned out I was the one needing to free myself of them.
As I suppose most adults do.
Staying at a resort budding with tourists on their holidays, my son Malik and I were waiting in a crowded lobby for the elevator to reach our floor. To kill boredom, we counted the floor numbers appearing above its doors. I guess it was a pretty endearing sight seeing a 3 year old, in a shrill and over-excited voice, count, incorrectly, in English. So endearing that it caught the attention of a bearded Middle Eastern man and a woman wearing a black burqa.
In other social settings, I would have politely avoided contact, in respect to our different life choices. I assume that my wearing shorts and, compared to the burqa, revealing clothing, I would somehow offend them.
But perhaps I was a bit curious or wanted to raise my son free of labels. Or perhaps I wanted to teach myself a lesson. Usually it's all of the above.
So I asked Malik to say hi to them and anticipated him to gawk. I prepared myself to give him a simple explanation so that he could learn, because I expected him to be nervous or uncomfortable to see an otherwise unusual sight.
He wasn't.
He waved at them and smiled. To which both responded with extended hands and huge toothy grins. "Salaam," the man kindly said, a genuine smile on his face.
Throughout the interaction, I didn't even make eye contact for fear that I might offend. Psychology and sociology theories state that human beings have a tendency to fear what they don't understand, and to cure the fear, one needs to understand.
But my son doesn't yet understand and he had no fears.
Children don't (yet) see the world in black-and-white. I remember sitting next to a middle-aged British businessman on a flight a few years back. An expat in Indonesia, he put his son in a local school to learn the Indonesian language. When his son left the country, a classmate gave him a drawing of several children. All of them had brown skin; most of them had black eyes, and one had blue.
"The blue eyed one was my son," the man kindly said, a genuine smile on his face, "Painted in the same skin colour, the drawer saw my son as one of them who simply had different coloured eyes."
Too much do I read about prejudice and bigotry and stereotyping. Too much is our society driven by hate rooted in misunderstanding. We proudly think that we should 'educate' our children to tolerate, respect and understand the concept of a plural society.
At that resort, I planned to teach my son how to be free of labels. Turned out I was the one needing to free myself of them.
As I suppose most adults do.
6 comments:
When you write, unintentionally, I presume;'children ..... in black and white', does this word a kind of prejudism? How about 'left and right'? Where actually is the border line? Or does it exist?
At the same time I read a line on my tweeter, it says; Never does a man portray his character more vividly than in his proclaiming the character of another. #islam #wisdom #think. Does character develop prejudism or does it on the other way around?
Labels exist only in our (my) mind, but wanting to be free of them is a delusion because it's part of being a member of society. It's useful to explain many things but to let it shape prejudice is another.
So to answer your question, as a social observer, I'd say our society shapes prejudism. But each member can decide whether or not to reproduce them.
And this is my attempt not to.
Endearing and informational post.It reminds me..
Wish I was still like your son. Totally open minded. In stead I'm afraid each time I've to struggle to keep my prejudices at distance.
I share your fear. And I am grateful for that young man I call my son.
That was a great post. I heard a lecture the other day, and the speaker said "Kids are in the present moment until they hit 7 or 8 years old, and then they start living in their head. They start to become bored. When you're bored, you know you're not living in the present." I suspect you've never seen your son bored, restless maybe, but not bored. We definitely can learn a thing or two from them.
From the perspective of those women in the burqa, they must feel so humble having to look so uninviting to the rest of us. There may be a tremendous amount of love under that cloth, but we say "no, no, not for me".
I've heard that having your kids say hi to strangers, pay at counters, and order their own dinner can make them extremely well adjusted when they're older.
@ Matt: I really like your argument: From the perspective of those women in the burqa, they must feel so humble having to look so uninviting to the rest of us. There may be a tremendous amount of love under that cloth, but we say "no, no, not for me."
Assuming that it was a personal decision, it must have taken a lot of courage and conviction (and as you put it, love) for her - and many other female Muslims around the world - to practice what she believes in. Thanks for that. :)
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