The Pain of 30 Years

There are a lot of moments in our lives that will have a significant impact on the direction our lives will make. At the time it is difficult to predict how much these lessons will influence us, but over the years we find out that we will be shaped in ways that we could not have predicted. I think it is time to share one of mine and talk about what I have learned from it, over thirty years later.

In Grade 4 my class was asked to talk about their family background. We talked about what countries our ancestors came from. I was happy to share with my friends and classmates my German heritage. My mother was born in Hamburg Germany, and she had taught us about its rich heritage and traditions. I felt a sense of pride in my roots. I was happy to share with my classmates about the food and customs of the literal Motherland.

Then, we switched units, and we started to study World War II. While we had all heard of this great war, we did not know too much of the details. We knew that Canada, the UK, and the US were the good guys, but that was the limit of our knowledge. Over the next few weeks we began to fill in the missing pieces. It did not take long before I learned the truth that Germany was the main villain in this global event. We learned about Ann Frank, the Holocaust, and the other atrocities associated with World War II. My image of my heritage began to crumble. How could something that I had felt such pride over be responsible for something so horrendous? My pride in where my mother came from began to diminish. To a ten year old boy, this sort of thing was devastating.

Sadly, my classmates did what children tend to do. Take what they know and turn it into a game. At lunch one day, a bunch of my friends wanted to play a new game. They called it "War". They were Canada, the US, England, France, and other allied countries. Because I had expressed such joy at being of German descent, they made me Germany. The game was them chasing after me, shooting pretend guns at me, wanting to "kill" me. They would run around the playground yelling "Death to Germans!". When I tried to tell them that I did not want to play this game, they told me to shut up and run, because all Germans were evil and I was German. The next day they continued the game, and for the rest of the week I faced the same routine. My friends would "attack me" and scream about killing Germany. When I asked them to stop, they refused. When I tried to do something else, they relentlessly followed, continuing with their aggressive game. Sometimes a few other boys would be on my side, but I seemed to be the focus. I tried to tell them that Germany is good now, to which they responded with insults. It soon evolved that my friends stopped being my friends. I'm not saying that I was the most popular kid before this happened, but suffice it to say that my ranking on the list of social standing in Grade 4 plummeted.

The teasing and bullying grew worse, and it started to have a more profound effect on me. I think some of the kids did not see what was wrong with what they were doing, and instead of trying to further explain it to them, I just got angry at them. They got angry at me for being angry with them. Soon it became more than just me being German, it was about me being me. I was then picked on for not being good at sports, for reading lots of books, and for my religion. I then started getting sick. Many mornings I would throw up and stay home sick. I missed a fair bit of school. I always stayed caught up, but I quickly learned that being at home was far preferable than being at school. My teachers became concerned. My parents began to worry. They spent a lot of time talking to me about what was going on. Eventually I was able to tell my mom what started everything. It felt good telling someone. I thought maybe things would die down.

My parents spoke to my teacher. A couple days later, we had a lesson in social studies. It was about life for German-Canadians after the end of WWII. We read about how many people living in Canada were mistrustful of people of German descent. German-Canadians were harassed and treated poorly shortly after the war. We then talked about how all these things were wrong. We talked about how we should not hold the entire nation of Germany responsible for the actions of its leaders and that the best way to treat your former enemies is with forgiveness and compassion. It was one of those feel-good moments straight out of your Hallmark Movie of the Week plot. All that was needed was the reconciliation between me and my classmates and everyone going home happy and friends again.

That didn't happen.

Sad to say, the kids didn't quite get it. I was still on the outs. Not one student apologized to me. The bullying continued. My life did not get much better. It was nice that my teacher did this, but it just didn't do a whole lot to improve the situation. I am still not certain as to whether or not the anxiety of everything was contributing to my on-off morning puking, but it is a possibility. My former friends continued to treat me poorly. After a few weeks they stopped the War game, but I think it was more because they lost interest in it as opposed to them realizing that it was wrong. Grade 4 became my least favourite grade of school. In future years I admit things got better. A few of my former friends became friends again in the following years, but I was largely seen as the outcast in my school. The whole German thing was dropped, but it was the catalyst that started the bullying and teasing. 

So, more than thirty years later, I am thinking back on this experience. Recently I have had many discussions about some of the major social issues facing us today. I have talked to people about things like radical Islamic terrorism, the US Presidential election, and Black Lives Matter. Everyone seems to have an opinion on these issues, and the discussions can get quite lively at times. One thread that has permeated throughout these issues is the idea of labeling members of one particular group for the actions of a few. Whether it is looking at all Republicans as Trump-like fanatics, all Democrats as compliant liars, all blacks as cop haters, all police as racists, or all Muslims as complicit in terrorism, it is very easy to get caught up in the rhetoric. 

I feel that a lot of us will gladly say "All _______ are _________" (fill in the blanks as you wish) in our discourses. We may not say it outright in that manner, but there are some distinct allusions that are being bandied around. One in particular that gets me concerned is when someone calls Islam the "so-called religion of peace". Others include "you can't trust a cop, you don't know if you are dealing with a dirty one or not", or the retort of "all lives matter" whenever someone mentions "black lives matter". The truth of matter is that it is easy for us to make broad generalizations as a way of somehow strengthening our argument. We exaggerate and simplify our way to justify our biases against a certain group, be it racial, professional, socio-economic, religious, or political. When we debate, we do so to win, not to learn or understand. Discourse has become a competition to defeat your opponents, not to come to a common understanding. From there, it is not a difficult leap to discrimination and hatred.

So while I get why some people become distrustful of others, I need to point out the lessons I learned in the 4th grade. It is unfair and wrong to pass judgement on an entire group of people. I have heard good people rationalize their reactions to terrorism or BLM movements. For terrorism and grouping all Muslims in the same group, they say that it is hard to ignore that so many terrorist activities these days are committed by those who profess to follow Islam. They use a phrase that gets my blood boiling: "Islam, the so-called religion of peace". I offer that every experience that I have had with Muslims has been at worst neutral and more often are very positive. I talk about how many of my students are Muslim, and they are such a delight to me. They give me Christmas presents, introduce me to their family at graduation, and show the utmost respect and love. Many I do not know are Muslim until it happens to come up in a conversation. This means that they do not seem any different to me than students of any other denomination. When I share this with those who are spreading distrust, they sometimes respond with another blood-boiling inducing phrase: "Well yeah, but...". Thankfully I hold my tongue during those moments...well, most of the time.

When a Black Lives Matter story comes along, some people get up in arms, demanding that other lives matter. When a gay pride parade happens, some will insist that there be a straight pride day. People start to shout at each other, accusing one another of hatred and intolerance. People have stopped trying to see the other's point of view. On one side, those who bring up the injustices faced by a group in society need to raise their voice loudly to raise awareness. Those who dare question such awareness are often feeling their own type of discrimination. The irony of a straight-white-Christian male becoming in some circles a scapegoat is not lost on me. I get it. I get it all. I get why people wear BLM T-shirts. I get why some people feel that only Trump can speak for them. I get why there is frustration on so many fronts for so many people. We have chosen to limit ourselves on perspectives. We tend to associate with those we agree with and silent those whose opinions appear to be in opposition. Too many of us have bought into the lie that if one disagrees with something it is because of hatred. It is easier to see the world as "Us vs Them".

It frustrates me. I hear people say that BLM is a cop-hating group, that cops are bullies drunk on power, that Muslims are terrorists, and all I can think of is a group of ten year old children chasing me around the playground screaming "death to Germany". I can't help but hear the taunts as social media lights up with more political rhetoric. It is draining to me, reliving the pains of my past. I see good people abandoning morals to support those who stir up such feelings of hatred. I see people choosing between the lesser of evils instead of searching for or actively promoting that which is good. It's Grade 4 all over again.

30 years later, it still hurts.