Prejudice and Pride

Prejudice is a funny thing. Pride is even funnier. And when I say funny, I don’t mean the laughing kind of funny. I mean the kind of funny that is hard to explain and comprehend. Those two words simply have such a vast array of things that could tag along after them in a conversation that I try to avoid them as much as I can. But I do know one kind of prejudice and one kind of pride that seems to stand out to me all the time, and not only because of where I live.

Prejudice seems to me to be one of the most blinding faults a person can have. It can keep them from seeing the good in things, which is often one of the biggest blessings you can have. There are so many kinds, racial prejudice, religious prejudice, and prejudice against anything else you can name. And the fact of the matter is, it makes me sad. The idea of alienating a trait of a person, thing, or group of people, then despising them for it shows that whoever is prejudiced against something, obviously has a big problem to fix. If you’re prejudiced against black people, or hispanic people, that means that you have something against an entire race. Why? If you’re prejudiced against Muslims, what’s wrong with you? That is their religion, and it’s what they grew up believing is the divine and ultimate truth. Maybe it’s not exactly what you believe, but the fact of the matter is nobody REALLY KNOWS the TRUTH about religion. Anyone could be ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ about how the world was made and when and heaven and who’s there. We have absolutely no way of knowing, and that’s the beauty of it.

We watched a movie called Freedom Writers the other day. It strikes me as odd how every once in a while, I’ll sit down to research an issue or topic that is vital in the world today or in history, and be shocked that I never heard about it. I’d not realized that the whole gang violence in LA happened at all, and yet so many lives were lost over it. Within the first ten minutes of the movie, I was struck by how desperate it all was, and how if these people had moved out of state, it would have been completely different. For so many different races to all sit in a room together and simply be thinking they hate each other is absolutely heartbreaking. I know that not everybody was brought up like I was, in a third world country where some of your dearest friends’ not only had coal-black skin, but were also in a completely different mindset about the world. Maybe I, having thought nothing of race since I was a baby, would have a different outlook on how similar we all are. But why can’t everyone? Because everyone doesn’t have the privileges, and curses, that I do. And I hurt for the people who were deprived of the joy of holding Awe’s hand, or listening to Essowe’s story, because those were some of the happiest memories of my life.

In accordance with the title, it’s a bit obvious that pride was the second most important thing brought up in Freedom Writers. I admit though I may not have much prejudice, I might have a bit more pride than I think I do. I’ve always been very confident, almost to a fault, my dad says. And whereas before I was convinced pride was not a big problem for me, I decided maybe I should double-check myself. In the movie, it took one of the students, Eva, a long time to warm up to the teacher’s ideals about a classroom, and the love that should be visible there. Of course, for the character’s backstory to be so heartbreaking, you can tell that it wouldn’t be easy to simply up and give away your trust. When all you know of white people is that they arrest your family and ruin your life, what are you supposed to do? You can’t help but be guarded with your trust. But being guarded and being prideful are different. There’s a line to cross. Being guarded is okay, but only if you know to learn not to be.

I’ve noticed that part of the hardest thing is admitting you were wrong. And maybe actually admitting it isn’t as hard, but sometimes it is worse to simply forget it and turn the other direction when you know everyone has their eyes on your back. My theory is that when Eva was the last of her classmates to comply with the teacher, she knew that it was safe to. But, especially in a well-written story, there’s always going to be a moment of hesitation when you realize that you should have just given in a long time ago. The pride is just what keeps you holding out past your realization. Sometimes if I’m in a heated argument, and I realize I’m not completely sure of myself, I’ll push my opinions even farther because of the insecurity. Usually, I end up looking like a fool. A really stupid, prideful fool. But aren’t we all? Why is it not just easier to let go and realize the other person was right? Because that’s the way we are. We’re humans. We eat to live and we have to be right all the time. And even for people who don’t believe that about themselves (like I used to), it’s true of everyone. Don’t be ashamed. It’s a common denominator. Most faults are. But that doesn’t mean it’s not fixable.