| From Color to Character |
By: Lois Kellerman, columnist, “Mother Knows Best”
On 1/17/06
Four young people and I were watching parts of an HBO video developed from selected submissions to a contest. The video was called “Subway Stories: Tales from the Underground.”
| "As a young woman I watched in wonder at my country changing before my eyes. It was painful to watch..." |
Since the teens live in Northern California they were excited at the thought that they might get a real feel for the Big Apple. One strange-but-true vignette after another kept us riveted to the screen, with charged discussions between stories.
But when we came to the tale involving a white woman’s negative reactions to black people she encountered in the subway, the kids seemed hopelessly perplexed. In the story, the woman initially expresses confidence about riding the subway, but each encounter seems to trigger more and more of her hidden fears. The result is that she refuses real helpers while simultaneously shrieking for help at the top of her lungs from behind thick metal bars.
The woman ends up sleeping overnight on the concrete floor of an exit-way that has been locked for the night. When an official comes down in the morning to open things up the woman is disoriented and disheveled. The official, mistaking the woman for a homeless person, gently reminds her of the rule against sleeping overnight in subway stations. Then he kindly tells her he will let her go ‘this time.’
Now the thing that puzzled me most about my conversation with the kids was this: They couldn’t figure out what had been happening in the story. I replayed it, pointing out each of the woman’s reactions of fear as we went along. They still didn’t get it. Finally I blurted out, “Her prejudices about black people kept her from getting help when she needed it.”
“Why was she prejudiced against black people?” the oldest inquired. “They’re just like everyone else. Some are good, some are bad.”
“Yeah,” said the one in the middle, slouching back against the pillows of the couch. “I’m upset, if that’s what happens in New York. I’m not going there.”
“Why?” I inquired.
“Because I look just like the people in the story.”
“Hey, how could you be?” the youngest asked. “Your dad’s Asian and your mom’s white.”
“Yes, well that makes me a person of color,” she replied.
The interchange brought tears to my eyes. Tears of joy at small victories evidenced in the confusion of a couple of kids. Tears of sadness (either in actual experience or through trusted stories). There is so much hurting still going on.
As a young woman I watched in wonder at my country changing before my eyes. It was painful to watch, too slow and too little, but, still, it was moving in the right direction. What is sobering now is to realize that an entire generation’s efforts can swiftly be dismantled by just a few—especially if they have been raised to high places.
This is why families must understand and practice the art and science of inculcating learning in ways designed to last over many generations. One simple technique immediately comes to mind: The passing on of cherished stories. Think of your own ancestors. What tales of importance reside in a name, a tattered photograph, a chance recollection of a grandfather? Make this kind of story telling a habit, a regular part of family get-togethers. Cull out the values of all the special stories you know--from your personal past, your country’s past, and from the histories of the world.
We will never know in a lifetime the end result of our efforts, but every once in awhile a conversation like the one I had with just a few teens can reinforce the most profound hope of humankind: That deep learning is possible. In this endeavor, history, both recent and ancient, is imperative to one overall human goal. That is, building a better world for all. As a long-ago proclamation of a Sioux elder reminds us:
“A people without history is like wind in the Buffalo Grass.”
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