Learning From Ignorance
Once, while working as a medical assistant, I was making small talk with my patient. He was in a good deal of pain, so I was trying to distract him from it until the doctor could tend to him. The patient was an African American man in his 80’s. He was brought into the office that day from a nursing home because of an infection in his foot. He was soft spoken and kind, and we got on the subject of when he was younger.
He said that he was a football player in high school, and that he was 6'5" and roughly 300 pounds. I said to him what I would have said to anyone, “Oh, wow! So you were a big boy, then?” In my mind, there was no dark connotation to my statement. I had no idea that one word from me could conjure up images in this man’s mind of terrible things in his life. That’s because I was ignorant.
The moment I said it, he stiffened noticeably and tension permeated the air around us. He became angry, but due to his poor health and anger he had a hard time expressing himself. The nurse who brought him in, who was also African American, knew immediately what I did not. I’ll never forget his next words: “So…you’re one of them, then.” He stuttered a little and said it very quietly. His nurse must have seen my confusion and anxiety, and she gave me an understanding look, yet her eyes were full of the same pain that pierced me through his.
It took me a moment to understand what he said and then another moment to realize what he meant by it. Then it hit me like a freight train; I had used the term “boy” to describe him. I tried to fix the situation but it was too late; the damage was done. This man, who had been through more in his long life than I will ever know, thought I was a racist. In his mind, I was no better than the men who harassed him and the women who feared him as a young, large black man. There was nothing I could do to fix it.
I’ll admit that at first I was angry, too. Angry at him for misunderstanding me. Angry with the white men and women who had come before me for causing him so much pain. Angry with myself for not thinking before I spoke. Then I was ashamed. Ashamed because of my ignorance. Ashamed because with one word I had connected myself to people that disgust me. I wanted nothing more than to burst into tears and explain to him that I meant no harm, that I respected him as a human being and that I would never do anything intentionally to hurt him. But in that moment, words were useless.
Now, I could have just stayed angry at this man for misunderstanding me and left it at that and, unfortunately, I know of many people who probably would have done just that. I could have convinced myself that somehow he was in the wrong and because my intentions were good that I was in the right, but what would I have learned? If I want people to empathize with me and understand where I’m coming from and why I react to things the way I do, I have to do the same for them.
So, instead, I went to the break room to calm down before our next patient and started thinking about that man’s life and what it must have been like. I thought of the movies and documentaries showing real footage of the terrors of the KKK and Jim Crow and slavery my mom had shown me when I was young. I thought of the books I had read as a child, and one in particular: Roll of Thunder, Hear my Cry.
Then, I thought of stories my 80 year old grandmother, who was born and raised in a small town in Georgia, had told me about her adolescence and childhood. When she and this man were younger, he would have had to step off the sidewalk to let her pass, solely because she was white. Had he had even so much as made direct eye contact with her, he could have been beaten and left for dead in the street.
As white people, it is difficult for us to understand why “race is still an issue” because it isn’t for us. It never has been for us. We aren’t pulled over for our skin color. We aren’t passed up for jobs for which we are qualified because of our skin color. We aren’t beaten or murdered by the police, nor do we have stories of family members being beaten and killed for their skin color. It is very easy for white people to say “that’s in the past, get over it!” because racism has never affected us on such an institutional level. There are people alive today who’s grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles lived through lynchings, beatings and segregation. There are people alive today who lived through those things themselves.
This man didn’t read about those things in books like I did. He lived them. The wounds are still fresh in his mind. It doesn’t matter what my intentions were, it matters how my words affected him. I don’t blame him for being offended by my words, I blame those who came before me for treating him with such maliciousness that he immediately was brought back with one word from my mouth. I blame myself for not thinking. It would be easy for me to say, “Ugh, you need to get over it!” because I don’t know what it is because I’ve never experienced it.
When it comes down to it, we are all the same. We all just want to be understood and to have a voice. We are all just looking for the “American Dream”. Mothers and fathers want what’s best for their children. People want to succeed.
All that man wanted was to live a life free from hatred and fear but he couldn’t do that because of people who looked like me. I will forever be sorry that I had that encounter and that I hurt him. It was years ago and I still think about it frequently.
The only silver lining is that it further instilled in me the need to empathize with others and to see where they are coming from. Just because I’ve never experienced something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Similarly, just because I have experienced something doesn’t mean everyone else has, too.
The bottom line is this: We all fuck up sometimes. We all become complacent and say or do things that hurt others. The difference is in whether you learn from your fuck ups or continue to make them. It sucks to admit you were in the wrong but it’s necessary for personal growth.
The next time you feel anger or hatred toward someone, stop and ask yourself why. Is it because of something that you’ve been taught? If so, were you taught the truth or a fiction to fit a narrative? Is it because it goes against a closely-held belief? If so, is that belief correct or is there evidence to the contrary?
Would you want someone to try to understand where you’re coming from and why you feel the way you do about an issue? If so, then you need to grant them the same courtesy. Treat others how you want to be treated and the world would be a better place.
