Try to imagine how others feel

 

August 20, 2020



Recent reminiscences by Blaine Blackstone regarding his personal experiences with race reinforced something I’ve known for a long time. Our personal world views are often based primarily on our personal experiences, and unless we make a concerted effort to examine those experiences in a broader context, it is difficult to have an open discourse. Our experiences may be spot on, but they are still just our own experiences, with no weight of truth to them, until we take that next step.

I don’t doubt Mr. Blackstone’s childhood friendships, or his comradery with kids of varying backgrounds. That is, however, no indication that his friends experiences were the same as his.

I have one friend I’ve stayed in contact with from high school. Miche’l was one of the smartest kids in school. We were both part of our school’s speech team, attended church together, and lived only a short distance from each other. Miche’l went to college to become a dentist, and graduated from a prestigious school. We joked with each other, though less crudely than Mr. Blackstone and his friends. But our lives were not equal. Miche’l was one of only seven black students in my high school of around 2,000, and two of the others were her brothers (who also graduated from college, one as an engineer). All the black families lived on one short street, isolated from the rest of the community. That was both by racial barriers, and by their choice. They were, with cause, afraid of the whites. So why did they live there? I can’t speak for the other families, but Miche’l’s mom was a registered nurse, and her parents wanted their kids to have a good education. Moving meant hard work, and long hours, but they made that sacrifice for their children, as frightening as it was for them.

I wasn’t as aware when we were in high school, but hindsight emphasized how very unequal our lives were. She knew people whispered when she was out with her baby brother, assuming he was “hers.” She’d laugh, but I knew it hurt. When we were in a store together, the clerk watched everything she did, and never offered to help, though I was pestered with offers of assistance. She’d shrug, but it stung. I could drive anywhere without question, but not so for her - and even less so for her brothers. Our lives, however they seemed when it was just the two of us, were not the same. And as adults, her path has been harder at every turn.

To assume we understand the other, based on what we see through our own experiences, is both ignorant of how things actually work, as well as presumptuous. We need to step back a moment, and examine, with an open mind and heart, how things look and feel to the other person. Then, perhaps, we can begin a discussion.

Pat Crowder,

Thompson Falls

 

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