Stereotyping is something that all of us have done at some point in our lives whether we admit it or not. There’s some very primitive part of our brains that compels us to do so. Only when one recognizes that stereotyping is as harmful to its perpetrator as to its victim can we begin to overcome our compulsion to engage in it. I regard stereotyping as being akin to judging someone based upon the kind of junk mail one receives in his or her email. Just as none of us has any control over what kind of junk mail is sent to us, we have no control over what others think of us as individuals based upon their own preconceived ideas of what kind of person we ought to be based upon our race, ethnicity, national origin or the like.
If one were to judge me based solely upon the kind of junk mail that is sent to my inbox on a fairly regular basis, one might rightly conclude that I am either the luckiest or unluckiest man in the world. On the one hand, I receive a mindboggling number of emails regularly advising me that I have won such-and-such big-bucks-lotto or this-and-that super-duper jackpot. From this one might reasonably infer that all the stars in the Heavens had fallen into perfect alignment right above my head in order to mystically conspire in such a way as to make me the wealthiest man in history of the universe. On the other hand, the number of emails that I, all-too-frequently, get from companies encouraging me to buy these pills or that lotion to increase the size of my “you-know-what”, would surely cause any rational person to conclude that I must surely have been born the “smallest” man on the planet and the one most in need of keeping an electron microscope in the bedroom at all times.
Unfortunately (financially)…and fortunately (physically), my inbox doesn’t define me as a person, but other people’s stereotypes of me sometimes do. Anytime a person is stereotyped, he or she is diminished as an individual in incalculable ways. People who want to paint all the individuals of a group with the same brush use distorting labels to malign and diminish the spirit of individuals. The thing that those who regularly engage in stereotyping fail to understand is that their behavior not only invites, but demands reciprocation on the part of their victims.
For example, if I go around saying all Iranians are terrorists, I should not be surprised when Iranians respond by saying all Americans are backward, cultureless, ignorant rednecks. Stereotyping is a vicious cycle that feeds on itself. When the members of any two groups of people start seeing themselves as vastly different from one another it begins to impair their powers of perception, they gradually begin to see the other, through the blurring lens of intolerance, as inferior, and they fail to remember that we were all born with ten fingers and toes and that we all bleed red when we’re cut.
Weren’t we all innocent at one point in our lives before we learned how to hate, for hating is surely a learned skill? We learn it after we acquire our capacity for speech. We learn bigotry, narrow-mindedness, and even fanaticism from our parents, our grandparents, our cultures and our societies. By the time each of us has reached our teen years, we have a well developed capacity to look down on, to despise and to hate those that may be a little different from us. We are all taught well how to hate, but how many of us are really taught how to love? The burden of hate is one that is heavy and it is one that ultimately consumes all that it touches.
This is a burden that all of us share in life. There is good news though. Just as we have the ability to hate one another, we have the ability to relegate it to the rubbish heap of our lives. We can’t always escape what others may think of us, but we can, if we choose to, begin to repress our own primal tendency to stereotype and look down on others. Before we can do this, we must want to do it, however… and it takes work on our part; hating others is easy, accepting them is not. Before any of us can change we must want it for ourselves and even more for our children. Children who grow up learning to love, accept and respect others are such joyful adults to be around…no matter where they are from originally, but those who have been polluted by hate and have grown up seeing others as different, less than and not-as-good-as are miserable and petty people who are never happy with themselves or others. I don’t know if any among us are able to completely expunge the darker demons that lurk in our hearts, but we can make progress and grow emotionally and if we are just willing to try.
I got to thinking about the subject of “what others think of me” because of a refreshingly honest response that I received to my recent blog entry entitled, My Iranian Slut. His email confirmed what thirty years of being married to an Iranian lady had already taught me. I was intrigued by what he wrote because the gentleman openly admitted to a prejudice which I had long felt. I guess he validated my feelings when so many of my Iranian friends over the years have tried to convince me that I have imagined the cool reception that I have sometimes received from some Iranian men when they realized my wife was one of them. Just as any Iranian in America, Europe, Australia, or any other part of the world knows when a non-Iranian is being standoffish toward them, so too have I been able to feel when there was an uncomfortable chill in the air.
Here is what Aghaye Kamangir wrote to me:
“I’m a Persian myself and have many Iranian friends and can confirm to you that yes, there’s an issue among Persian men ragarding Persian women being emotionally involved with non-Iranians. I’m not saying that every single Iranian man is like that, but the majority are and I’m talking about the ones that have lived outside Iran for years, like myself. Although I also have to say that I’ve noticed the same in other nationalities, specially mediterranean countries. It must be a cultural issue and well to tell you the truth, I myself have been in that situation in the past where I did not feel comfortable with the idea of an Iranian lady I knew being involved with a non-Iranian man, as it was the case. I know it’s mediocre and ridiculous, but I guess this happened to me because I was attarcted to her somehow. But I never gor to a point of even thinking she was a slut, I know she wasn’t and that’s why I was bothered. I have thought about this a lot, and despite the fact I know this is very mediocre, but I know I still have to work on myself on this one.”
His frankness and honesty were like a cool breeze on a very hot day. While many among us, whether Iranian or not, are able to easily see the flaws and shortcomings in others, we are all-too-often unable to see our own frailties of character. I like honest people and I respect people who are able to look within themselves before they ask others to do the same. This is why Aghaye Kamangir’s message struck me as being particularly profound. On its face, his message is quite simple, but when one reads between the lines, one sees that there is much more to it than meets the eye.
I respect a man that admits his flaws and endeavors to rise above them. God knows that I have plenty of flaws myself. I respect those who, through introspection, try to rise above the darker parts of their nature, for I struggle the same struggle, and strive each day to become a better person than I was the day before.
Sometimes progress comes in small, almost imperceptible steps and sometimes progress comes in lessons learned that have such an impact upon us that we can never forget them. For instance, five decades ago as a small boy, I got into a quarrel with another child who had come over to my house to play. The boy, a black child, had done something to upset me. In a fit of anger, I called him a nigger. My father, who overheard me, came and grabbed me by the back of my neck and asked me what I had said. I repeated the offensive word that I had just uttered. In a tone that let me know that my father about to tell the boy off, he growled that there was, indeed, a nigger in our yard, but it wasn’t the other child; it was me! I almost started crying, but I fought to hold back the tears. How could my own flesh and blood humiliate me by calling me a nigger in front of a nigger!? Realizing that he had hurt me deeply with his public rebuke and savage affront to my seven-year-old honor, his tone softened and he bent down on one knee to look me in the eye. He explained to me that the word nigger did not describe a person’s skin color, but rather the content of a person’s character. Until that day, I didn’t know that it was possible for a nigger to come in any color under the sun, but it is a lesson that I have tried not to forget. While I didn’t completely understand his point that day so long ago, over the course of my life, I have come to appreciate the lesson he taught me that day more and more as each day passes.
I am nowhere near perfect, so I must continuously struggle against the dark demons that lurk within my heart, but just admitting that they are there, and that I am a flawed human being, helps me to keep them at bay until the day comes, if ever, I am able to negate them completely. Anytime any of us judges others based upon characteristics or circumstances that are beyond their control, we allow the darker demons within us to reign supreme.
I am mindful that the coolness that I’ve sometimes felt with some Iranians because of who I am married to has been similarly felt by the Iranian husbands and wives of non-Iranians. I have heard many stories of how they have had to put up with rude comments or inexcusable behavior from Americans over the years, and for this, as an American, I am ashamed and embarrassed. At other times, however, they’ve had to deal with the prejudices of their own people. I know that in our thirty years together, my wife has felt the sting of disapproval come not only from my people, but from some amongst her hamvatan as well. Knowing full well that the stares and unkind words from Americans have occasionally hurt her over the years, I cannot begin to imagine how she felt those times that she was forced to endure the same kind of treatment from those she cares most for, her own people.
Lest I digress any further from the topic, let me say that all stereotyping is wrong. It doesn’t matter if it is directed at people of a different race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or based upon private matters such as who someone marries or doesn’t marry. We are all the same race at the end of the day, the human race. I am glad to know that I am not alone in trying, day by day, bit-by-bit to improve myself. Just knowing that there are others out there, like Aghaye Kamangir, makes my never-ending journey in life for self-improvement seem more worthwhile and attainable. So to all those who share our struggle to overcome that darker parts our shared human nature, thank you!
