I never really understood racism….I mean, I get that people are different by nature and all, but to subject an entire culture, ethnicity to a category designed to show prejudice is beyond me.
From what I gather, pretty much the very schism between the Covid19 outbreak was juxtaposed immediately into the separation of white and black people. I don’t get it honestly, mainly because my mother and father have always stressed the importance of inclusion…no matter the difference of skin color, race, or language barrier. My father would do various things to help me pave a path of that is was like to be the “same,” even though all the while not everybody is the same. At times I would use the word “weird” as a descriptor but would immediately be corrected.
“Just because someone has different traits, sounds unfamiliar, or doesn’t look like you does not make them weird, it makes them different, and there is nothing wrong with being different, it is the way of life” my Dad used to tell me. The country I grew up in was in the midst of the narrative slogan Black Lives Matter.
Sure, I have read countless history books on the subject of racism in America, and while I grasp the notion that it existed at one time and in one place long ago, I guess I cannot figure out why it still continues to haunt this nation around every corner. Why wouldn’t their lives matter? Are they not people much the same as you and I? Why is it so hard to afford them the same privileges as everyone else? Dad used to say that is the heart of the whole issue…and why it continued to be the so-called “Dark Stain” on this country.
The pandemic that has swept the world was still on the minds of everyone, did they (we) really need another crisis to deal with at the time? My immediate answer is no, mainly because even with differences aside this should have been a wake-up call for people to come together and fight a common enemy.
But that didn’t happen, and all the while throughout that summer of 2020 the pandemic raged on and spread more and more. I had no idea how, or why…but reflecting on my parent’s thoughts and advice, I seem to get it now. It makes me sad that so many individuals can be misinformed and mislead by the countless debates and fractures that existed in the media during that time.
My senses usually revert toward a common goal government, if such a thing existed during those times. Reading and watching news footage was enough to confuse everyone. One can go crazy trying to sift through all the content surrounding not only the pandemic, but the Black Lives Matter movement immediately following.
I gather my strength from my mom and dad teaching me that no matter how much evil the world can display, how hard and unimaginable things can become, and the unfairness that exists, one must still push forward with a strong heart, and a level mindset. My parents, both being educators, were honestly concerned returning to work. The student’s safety was the most important…outside of that, dad was always worried about mom and me, constantly. Little did he know that something would happen to culminate that fear even more.
My name is Clark…and these are my stories that have been passed down to me over the years of my life, which have taken root in my consciousness in such a way that I was determined to set forth on a path to effect change on not only a global level, but one to better myself and those around me. No one knows who I truly am, and to be honest…I have yet to figure that out.
