Tolerance – Can You Ever Have Too Much?
I was born and raised in a small French-Canadian community in Massachusetts. My grandparents had migrated from Canada and my parents were born in the U.S. Still, the French-Canadian culture and heritage was alive and well. Up until age five, I spoke predominantly French in my home, using English sparingly when I went outdoors to play.
The day after my 5th birthday, my family moved to an all-English speaking neighborhood. The tiny town – population 25,000 – was only minutes away from where I was born. It might as well have been on the other side of the world. Everything seemed to change.
I remember being embarrassed bringing friends into my house because we talked ‘funny’. Oh, how I got laughed at. I stopped speaking French altogether and begged my parents to use only English when my friends came to visit. The rule, ‘Use it or lose it’ certainly applied. Within a very short time, I lost all ability to speak or even understand French in spite of my parents’ best efforts to keep our family bilingual. Yes, I have some regrets today.
From the 4th grade, I took French in school. As you might guess, I resisted my lessons even though my classmates were also taking the same course. It wasn’t them I was concerned about. The reason for my reluctance this time was because of the conflicting dialects. My parents tried to help me at home in their French-Canadian way. The teacher sent notes home to my parents telling them to leave me alone as we were being taught Parisian French at school. Their ‘help’ was messing me up. I stood silently on the sidelines while my parents and teacher duked it out.
And I Thought I Was Different
Fast forward to high-school. It was the late ’60s and issues like integration and ‘forced’ busing were huge in and around the greater Boston area where I lived, as well as other major cities all across North America. Our school was chosen to host the ‘ABC’ program (A Better Chance). This introduced the first Afro-American students to our all white, Protestant/Catholic community.
Any differences I ever felt up to that time virtually disappeared. Now ‘THEY’ were different! Most of our community was fascinated by ‘THEM’. Although I never saw any evidence myself, I’m sure there must have been racial tension and conflicts. Some of those students came from as far as New York City to attend our school. They only went home on holidays, so they were some of the first visibly different people to live in our town full-time.
Mine was one of the first graduating classes from my high school to include several visible minority students. I look back in awe now when I realize how very little tolerance we had in those days. In fact, we were only starting to take the first steps towards racial tolerance a full 15 years after Rosa Parks became famous for defying the laws of segregation.
A Whole New World – Or Is It?
The world is shrinking rapidly. Mixed marriages based on race, religion, age and other criteria are much more common. There are twelve years between Maggie and I. She is Chinese; I’m Caucasian. My step-daughter Suvin’s dad is Chinese. Ambrosia’s dad is from Guyana. In our multi-culturally tolerant world-class city of Toronto, we are hardly noticed as ‘different’. Maggie tells me that she is still aware of ‘looks’ when we venture into smaller communities for walks. I always bask in the glow of being with the love of my life, so I never give other peoples’ glances a second thought.
However, ‘differences’ are still poked, probed and felt throughout the world as we continue to grow in tolerance and acceptance. Children today are still subject to the pain of being singled out, but they seem to recover much more quickly, keeping the lessons of tolerance and empathy as we witness in this inspiring video.
We’ve come a long way Baby, since those intolerant days merely half a century ago. To be sure, we have a way to go. At least the journey is well under way and picking up momentum. The youth today are answering the challenge and are teaching us so much about getting along as one. We may get there yet! You gotta Love That Feeling.
Do you have any stories of tolerance, compassion and empathy you would like to share? Your comments are always most welcome.
I beg to differ. (a little) It only appears from an adult standpoint that kids today recover quicker. When you’re the one in the situation, it can leave scars that last a lifetime. Ask me. I was made fun of for my religion. The school even allowed snide comments about it to be put in the class prophecy, which was published in the town newspaper. Talk about public, institutionalized bullying. They allowed it.
Ask my daughter, 17, who is African American. She bears scars on her body from being assaulted at school in a racially motivated attack. She may not bear lifelong emotional scars, but her memories of the events are painful ones, even if they did make her stronger.
Only time will tell who comes through their formative school years unscathed. No one really does, you know. Growing up is tough no matter the times. The thing that makes it all seem better these days is that we have healed our own old scars and have a deep abiding faith that we are able to help our kids. That is the key. That is, as you often point out, the feeling we love best.
Judy, it’s funny you mention the infamous ‘Class Will and Prophesy’. Just last week I was rummaging through some old papers and came across my High School and College graduation packages where I keep my diplomas, ceremony programs, and other related memorabilia.
As you might guess, I still had the ‘Class Will and Prophesy’ pressed right in there amongst the other documents. It was one of those blue mimeograph copies (OMG, we’re getting old – this was pre-computer, copier days).
Anyway, I didn’t read much before dropping the paper in total disgust. “Someone actually thought this was funny?” I asked myself, shaking my head in disbelief. I didn’t recall that they actually published this in our small hometown newspaper, but I know that sort of stuff was probably considered a ‘highlight’. As for my copy of the ‘Class Will…”, it went straight through my shredder. YUCK!
Yes, I do remember those days when you were ostracized for your religion. I also recall that you dressed differently than others, and that raised a few eyebrows and elicited a steady stream of undesirable comments . Looking back, it’s reminiscent of Mandy Moore in “A Walk to Remember” – (without the leukemia). No doubt, these and your many other life experiences have contributed to your admirable strength today.
I guess my views are from my ‘big city’ perspective. We have got such a tremendous diversity and Toronto is considered one of the most racially tolerant and accepting cities in the world.
Is it perfect here? Of course not – we still have a ways to go. But when I see the sharing/caring community at my girls’ school as compared to the snarky, back-biting remarks of our last ‘Will and Prophesy’, we have indeed made tremendous progress.
Thank you for your courage in sharing your story and views.