Paper Clips

I am watching a movie called “Paper Clips”. It’s about a middle school in rural Tennessee that did a project on the Holocaust and the resulting events. The project stemmed from the need for teaching diversity and tolerance. The teachers continually discuss the attitudes of the south; intolerance, prejudice, bigotry. One teacher, in particular, talked about his own life, his own father’s racism, passed down. He recognized how damaging, how detrimental that trait had been and he regretted the possible (and probable) pain he’d caused with his racial slurs.

This movie has given me pause. I have struggled for over two decades now to not be prejudice. I am lousy at this. I judge people. It is my worst quality. I reflect back on my life and all of the cruel words and thoughts that I have had because someone is different from myself. It is truly appalling.

I do not talk about a discovery I made in my family about a decade ago. At the time, I was engaged. I had taken my fiancé with me to Oklahoma to meet my family. I wanted to show him the “special room”. I think many families have this room that has the cool stuff or special memories in it. I knew there was a really old stereo system in it and these little locks my grandfather had whittled. It had photos of my father and aunt from high school. As we were looking through the knickknacks, there was something I’d never seen before. I was horrified. My grandmother was behind me and I asked who it had belonged to. She said it belonged to Grandpa Max (my great-grandfather). Was he? Yes, she said, he was. Oh my God. I had to sit down.

I loved my great-grandpa. He adored me. He died when I was fourteen. Somehow, though, this discovery made sense. It explained his son and his grandsons’ intolerance, particularly towards African-Americans. I write this with no pride, only shame. Max was in the KKK.

At the time of discovery, I had already begun my own process of change. I had fallen in love with the teachings of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and even Malcolm X. It deepened my resolve to do the most difficult, break the family cycle of hatred.

I struggle even more with intolerance now. I listen to the news about genocide, religious factions killing each other, and I am stupefied. How? Why? When will we ever learn? Perhaps it could be rationalized as a form of Darwinism; a prevention to overpopulation. As my friend says, it’s all math. Oh sure, it all has to balance, right? That’s one perspective.

I am truly not sold on the idea that peace on earth can happen. I am sold that each and every one of us has to find it within ourselves. It is imperative. We then carry our own peace with us, to every person we come in contact with each day, to each soul that we are more deeply connected with in our lives. That is our responsibility.

Namaste,

Wendy