WE HAVE TO CHOOSE TO STOP SEEING PEOPLE AS ‘OTHERS’
I am not shocked by what happened in Georgia. Or Colorado.
I’ll sign and support the petitions against hate, but violence against Asian, Black, Muslim, Jewish, Mexican and LGBTQ Americans, women, children and “others” will continue.
The names are different, but the story is the same. There’s a guy who feels his world is under attack and he’s losing control, and the only way it can be fixed is by killing the “others” who are threatening his way of life. The killer could be in Boulder, Atlanta, Las Vegas, Boston or Newtown, Connecticut; he could be a gang member in Chicago or a cop in Minneapolis.
I have my own prejudicial and racist tendencies. As a recruiter, my job has been to judge and decide who is a fit for a role and who is not. But I regularly catch myself judging others based on the wrong things. Their LinkedIn picture, their clothes, their ZIP code, their name and more. If I see a non-Anglicized name, I can’t help but wonder about English fluency.
No race has a monopoly on violence, bigotry or racism. In my 20s, older Koreans regularly told me I was too dark to be marriage material. As a waiter at Chi Chi’s Mexican restaurant, the El Salvadorian line cooks only called me Chinaman (even though I told them I am Korean) and never by my own. At Haines Point in Washington, D.C., a couple of friends and I went to watch the sunset only to be taunted and screamed at by hundreds of young Black adults, “Go back to your own country! What the f--- are you doing here? Get the f--- outta here, chinks!”
Only a few days ago, a former White manager lovingly referred to me as the “ninja warrior.” He meant it as a compliment, but I am not, as the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines it, a person trained in ancient Japanese martial arts and employed especially for espionage and assassinations. I’m an American of Korean descent. A black belt in Brazilian jujitsu. A father, a husband, a business owner, but definitely not a killer.
Speaking of killers, guns don’t kill people, people kill people. After 9/11, we didn’t permanently ban flying when terrorists killed nearly 3,000 people. Instead, we’ve spent more than $100 billion since then on the Transportation Security Administration to make sure people can’t kill people using planes.
More than 200,000 people have died at the hands of others and an additional 400,000 have committed suicide with guns since 9/11. We should apply the same logic to make it harder to kill people with guns as with planes. Guns, technology and society have progressed since the 18th century, and we need gun laws that are up to date as well.
The history of the past decade alone shows that updating our gun laws seems like a near impossibility. Our country is in a culture war, wherein we constantly accuse each other of being unpatriotic, brainwashed or just sheep. Sporadically the combination of misunderstanding, hatred and exclusion turn into senseless violence, death and grief. But after a momentary spike of media coverage, Facebook profile changes and protests, we once again get consumed by work, school, kids, dishes, laundry, etc. More depressingly, we despair over the fact that nothing seems to change.
After the spotlight has moved on and no one is watching is when the hard work needs to get done. I’ve tried to change my own prejudices by surrounding myself with “others.” By eating and drinking with them. By working with them. By doing jujitsu with them. I know these “others” as Ingram, Marilyn, April, Poya, Tyrone, Gagan, D, Kelly, Laura, Ronnie and so many more individuals with their own stories.
Most stories are about leaving a familiar circumstance in search of a better life. Essentially, they’re about immigration. Whether that means leaving for a foreign land or just leaving our cozy neighborhoods, it’s about exposing ourselves to new opportunities, new realities and new people. That can be as small as eating and volunteering on the other side of town, or as big as organizing a fundraiser, running for public office or writing a commentary that will get criticized. It’s the process of bringing the “others” closer, of getting out of our routines and bubbles.
Change, movement, progression — they’re part of our basic humanity. And while progress isn’t always immediately visible in our lifetimes, it has happened. Less than 100 years ago, non-White people were at risk of legal lynching if found after sunset in U.S. “sundown towns.” Given enough perspective and time, the human race does progress.
We can’t change America or the world overnight, but we can choose to stop seeing people as “others,” as “libtards,” as “Trumpers,” as whatever, and start seeing each other as the flawed human beings that we all are. Otherwise, we’re stuck on this nightmare of a merry-go-round.
At least until the aliens from outer space show up and wipe us out for being so stupid.
After the spotlight has moved on and no one is watching is when the hard work needs to get done.