Meet the Family

Meet the Family

In light of recent events, I feel I must preface this piece by stating that the past few weeks have been very unkind. Having endured a betrayal by my best friend with someone I was very interested in, nothing has spent more time in my analytical mind and slightly bruised heart. Not the Bach Prelude I must finish learning, not the endless amount of homework and studying that needs to get done, not the six concerts I am attending within the span of two weeks, not even the music that has held my sanity for so long. Nothing. Only the constant replay of the rejection by the object of my affection – in romance and as of late, in friendship.

Rejection is something that I have experienced numerous times. In fact I am so acquainted with him that at times I feel closer to him than I do with most people. We have all experienced him to a certain degree – some more extensively than others. It is human nature to accept what we do like and what we do not like. Think of an infant’s horrified face when he tastes something bitter – which he is likely to spit out – and his face when he resigns himself to the pleasure of that sweet something. This simple theory spans right across many aspects of us beings, if not all. Mark R. Leary writes that we “human beings devote great effort to obtaining the attention, approval, and acceptance of other people” because we “are an exceptionally social species with a strong need to belong and an even stronger aversion to being rejected. We not only spend most of our lives in proximity with other people but also typically want those individuals to accept us at some minimal level.”

When we rub shoulders with Rejection, he typically comes bearing not-so-glad tidings. And those tidings translate to “you’re not good enough.” Leary states that we are attracted to mates who match or exceed our physical and intellectual capabilities and attributes. He refers to this phenomenon as Falling Upward. This means that rejection is more likely to hang-out with you than not. Take the case of a potential romantic partner for instance; we reject someone’s affection toward us (even though we are beings that are constantly seeking approval and acceptance) because we find their intellect, physical features, and other traits undesirable to us. They do not meet the standards we have set for the one partner we hope to find. We believe, inadvertently, that they are not worthy of us. We are better. We will indulge in the yummy, bare the bland, and spit out whatever makes us gag. Although we are averse to admitting it, we think and feel ourselves superior. Meet Rejection’s parents – Superiority and Inferiority.

Mind you, Superiority and Inferiority do not only have one child, they have many. Come meet some of the family members: Over here we have Anti-semitism, Ageism, Sexism, and the one watching T.V. in the den is Racism. He doesn’t talk much but we know he is there. The other “-isms,” as I like to call Superiority and Inferiority’s children, are running around the house and yard. It’s not an easy job keeping track of such a large family. They cause mayhem. I guess it’s their way of  making their presence known.

Racism is one of Superiority and Inferiority’s children who seems to like me a lot. He always wants to spend time with me. I don’t like to because he is exceptionally unpleasant.

My parents moved from the townships in South Africa to the suburbs when they could afford it. The townships, unlike American townships, are where the majority of the black people live in any of the outskirts of the cities. We moved to the suburbs and we lived among the many white folk. My parents loved the fact that I was in mixed-race schools and was growing up in a South Africa that they could only dream of as a young one. My mom tried to preserve this thinking pattern in me when she had to answer my question I had asked her earlier:
“They treat me differently. Why mama?”
“Because you’re black my boy. There are some people who don’t like other people for silly reasons like that. They look down on us. But you must accept others as they are.”
I can not, in all honesty, say that I experienced racial discrimination at school back home extensively. Nothing that was blatant. Nothing that was subtle. We, school-children knew we were different, but we accepted each other as we were. All the way from pre-school to high-school. Outside of school was different. I found similarities when I came to the States. But what really caught my attention is how my lecturers would ask me a question that was related to Africa and expect me to know the answer to it. Or how they would talk about Nigeria, Congo, Mozambique or some other country in Africa, and expect me to relate. The intentions, I believe, are always good; a way to find some common ground and relate and make feel welcomed the foreigners. Professor bell hooks refers to this phenomenon as objectifying when she talks about her teaching experiences in a multicultural classroom:

Transforming these classrooms is as great a challenge as learning how to teach well in the setting of diversity. Often, if there is one lone person of color in the classroom she or he is objectified by the others and forced to assume the role of the “native informant.” For example, a novel is read by a Koran American author. White students turn to the one student from a Korean background to explain what they do not understand. This places an unfair responsibility onto that student. Professors can intervene in this process by making it clear from the outset that experience does not make one an expert, and perhaps even by explaining what it means to place someone in the role of “native informant.” it must be stated that professors cannot intervene if they also see students as “native informants.”

I remember my cousin, Patrick (we used to call him Pat-pat), loved being a teacher. Having been in predominantly white/multicultural private schools for my entire life, I sometimes felt some kind of displaced obligation about being at the schools I was blessed to be in. My cousin constantly asked me about available teaching jobs at my schools. Needless to say I was not clued up about this at all. His consistent interrogation about my schools’ system had me wondering why he really wanted to be there. Did he genuinely want a better job at well-respected schools? Did he believe he would be deemed good enough by the only-white teachers we had? Did he have something to prove?  Did he want to disprove preconceptions that people had about black people? This stirred a pot of thoughts and questions about myself too: Why was I not sure whether I wanted him there? Was it because I would feel embarrassed that he was my cousin? Was it perhaps because I did not think he would be seen as worthy? I found the answer when I ventured into my bedroom, lay on my queen-sized bed, and stared up at the ceiling. Why did I always work so hard? I wanted to be one of the few black people that could do it. Meaning achieve those awards. Do the things that mostly white children would do such as being an organist. I recall having thoughts of wanting to be one of the first black world-renowned South African organists. Why were my motivations so profoundly based on race? Why was I constantly trying to prove myself? I do not know the answer to that just yet, but I believe it is rooted in my not believing that I was not good enough. Rejection tells me this every time he pays me a visit. I do know that I did not want the typical negative stereotypes being attached to me. I got those awards and managed to disassociate myself with those stereotypes and generalisations. Pat-pat passed away a few years ago. He never taught at the schools he hoped to teach in.

I often wonder what challenges I will face as a potential black teacher. Stereotypes about black, white, jewish, asian, Indian, south american, and others, will always be everywhere I go. Do I constantly have to disprove peoples’ generalisations and biased perspectives? I do not want to have to do that any longer. My will to work-hard has been successfully converted into a good work ethic. I now know that I am good enough. I have proved it to others. But most importantly, I have proven it to myself.

None of Superiority and Inferiority’s children are allowed in any of the schools. They are all banned and, thus, uneducated. Schools have a “zero-tolerance” policy when it comes to those “-ism” kids. I did tell you earlier that they like to cause mayhem and they always find a way into these places from which they are banished. You know where they break in? The mind. The dark crevices of man are his most private space. There he can murder, rape, abuse, and live out all his fantasies. And he can not be held accountable by anyone there – except himself. Laws and policies enforce against acts of prejudice, but thinking patterns are what need to be altered when it comes to the “-ism” siblings. And this can only be done through education. I do not think those mayhem kids were born by that skinny woman – no woman has that many children and keeps that figure! I am almost certain they were adopted through that local agency called Ignorance-Insults.

It will be my job as a potential teacher to keep my students away from such agents using education.

My friend Rejection and I will be friends for many years to come. We will never lose contact. He will not reject my friendship either – he is sweet. So accepting of everyone. We could all learn a thing about acceptance from Rejection. I did tell him though, that when we do go out for dinner and drinks in the future, he should not speak. Ever. I do not need to hear his message. His presence is more than enough for me. Is that not how it is with friends and other close people anyway?