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FRESHMAN JOURNAL
Behind the
Lines at Berkeley High
January 2000: Ethics
& Ethnicity
© Copyright 2000 by Parents' Press
Our Berkeley (California) High School freshman has chosen to be anonymous so she can write more freely.
"Nice kid," said the bus driver as a young teen, about my age, hopped off the bus. I don't know why, but it caught me off guard a little bit. It was one of those things that makes you blink and your eyebrows rise for a second. Mostly, I just didn't expect to hear the term "kid" attached to someone so close to my age.
When I was younger, I absolutely hated being labeled a "kid" or a "child." The titles seemed to suggest immaturity, recklessness, and, as often portrayed in the media, a hint of immorality; something that would be used to describe a youth who had hijacked a car, robbed a convenience store, or committed some other felony. Somehow the term has always remained negative in my mind, but, as I caught a glimpse of the driver's warm smile in the rearview mirror, it became clear that my definition doesn't always apply.
Racism no matter how much I wish it didn't exist, and how much people want to avoid it (myself included) is a major issue, and one that has to be addressed. How do you handle these episodes? Are we supposed to fight our prejudices alone? Who can we talk about it with? Why are we so scared of offending everyone? It's human.
A few days ago, I had an experience that really made me look at myself more closely, and how our society does/does not deal with racism and/or prejudice. Though the occurrence was, in part, my fault, how those involved handled it was very inappropriate. I too should have handled it better.
While scrambling to get to my next class, someone, in an effort to pass me, pushed me. No apology came from the retreating head, but I just shook my own head and decided not to take notice. While being pushed, I bumped someone else with my backpack. I didn't really pay much attention and assumed as this sort of thing happens an awfully lot the person victim to my heavy backpack would choose to ignore it.
A second later, "Excuse you!" was practically spit in my ear. What was I supposed to say? I wanted to apologize, but how approachable are you being when you address someone like that?
I glared at the back of whoever's head was in front of me, and ranted to myself. I tried desperately to suppress thoughts that I actually didn't mean, but in spite of myself, these things seemed to flood my head.
Anger had been piling up inside me over the last couple of weeks, with several occurrences similar to this one happening to or around me. Thoughts flashed through my mind about female bullies with no manners, as I tried in vain to ignore her. I was dearly ashamed of myself for even having those thoughts. What was I thinking?
Behind me, the student I bumped bitched about it to her friend, who also began directing derogatory remarks my way. "She's scared," sneered one of them. My temper flared, and I forgot my guilt. I could hardly think, but the thoughts that did enter my mind were bitter ones. If someone met you, I thought, and hadn't known any other African Americans, do you know how fast they would become racist?
I do have a temper, and both because I was unwilling to be seen as a wimp and because my nerves were getting frazzled, I turned around and glared at her, before spinning back around to continue up to my class. "Don't roll your eyes at me, you little bitch! I swear if you even..."
Angrily, I stomped into my class, only seconds ahead of the bell. "And what mother taught you to behave that way?" I thought, almost looking for justification, for someone to blame.
Later, I faintly worried about the older student's threats, but decided she and her friend probably wouldn't remember me. What I did continue to pursue was how I had handled the situation, and my expectations for her, because of her ethnicity.
"If someone met you, and hadn't known any other African Americans, do you know how fast they would become racist?" Who was I to expect her to represent her entire ethnicity? Why is that a common expectation? I understand that racism starts from prejudging someone, or in my opinion meeting someone who happens to be mortifyingly awful, and then labeling everyone who is "like them" with the same negativity.
I discovered that I too, though it had never occurred to me before, had the burden of representing my race. If I didn't act as I wanted my ethnicity to be represented, I was only reinforcing the prejudices others had. Why hadn't I thought of that before?
I went to see the school play, "The Visit (of the Old Grandmother)," half because I had a couple of friends in it, and half because I thought it would be neat. And it was really neat to see so many students there. In fact, most of the audience consisted of students! I expected to see more parents, I guess.
The costumes were pretty good, and the acting was wonderful as a whole. The two main characters, Anton and Clara, played their parts really nicely. My favorite part was that of the Latin professor, though.
I liked the play so much, I think I'm going to go to the one in spring semester. Okay, so it's a musical I'll survive. Maybe (if I have time) I'll participate in making the set, because wooooahhhh! was the one for "The Visit" BAD! Hopefully I can get my friend who was in the theater production class with me last year at Martin Luther King Junior High to help. The stage set for the play from "The Jungle Book" was the bomb!! Okay, okay, so my friend was one of the people that really helped make the set look good. I helped! Heehee.
When I was younger I had a journal, and, um, never wrote in it. I liked the idea of looking back at my thoughts when I was an adult, but I couldn't commit myself. Well, today that idea still appeals to me, but I've found a way I can actually do it!
Scrapbook! I keep snatches of stuff I want to use in a folder I keep in my room. I save anything from notes I receive during class, to quotes I like, to my artwork, to photos. Sometimes, when there's something I really want to remember but don't have or make the time, I write it down on the back of a scrap of paper. I figure the crumpledness and scrawled handwriting add to the authenticity of my scrapbook. Heehee. It's neat, and sometimes I do a sort of journal entry when I do have time.
My friend and I had a long, ongoing argument for the last week and a half. It was really awful even more so because we hang out with the same people, and our friends started to feel they had to sort of choose sides. But it really made me realize how much I cared about her, how much I loved her.
With your parents it's different; instead of growing to know someone better, you're born into it. I've never had such a close friendship before, and although it has its strains (she and I are very different), it's a really neat experience. It's wonderful to be able to talk with someone so openly and more honestly than I feel comfortable doing with others.
My best friend's other close friend is pregnant. It's so shocking! I haven't been able to talk to her, but what I do know is that she got drunk and ended up having sex. I don't know if it was rape. I don't know when it happened or with whom. I'm scared for her, and why did this happen? She's only 14! It's too young to become a mother and take on all that responsibility.
I don't know. I'm gonna check out Planned Parenthood for her, see if we can get her to talk to someone. Maybe get an appointment for an abortion.
Part of why I'm hesitant and unsure of how to proceed is I
don't know how to handle it, and I've never done this before.
This year is really forcing me to handle new situations, and
face my fears of doing new things. It's scary.
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