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Writing About Prejudice

12/4/2020

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PicturePhoto by Ichio on Unsplash
Since I enjoy writing about history, there are times that I portray one group's actions as hostile over another's in a story. Take for instance the American Indian Wars fought from the 1600s until the 1900s. Depending on the story, it is likely that the Native Americans and the pioneers were enemies. Neither understood the culture of the other or understood why they lived the way they lived. Each had their own way of doing everything from hunting to surviving during the cold, wet, winters. A lack of understanding and the willingness to live by the Golden Rule led to horrendous battles and the loss of lives--and to prejudice. That same prejudice lives and breathes today. Even as a child, I was faced with prejudice. Prejudice because we lived "on the wrong side of the tracks" as it was called. Prejudice because my mother was a single parent in the 1950s. Prejudice against my siblings because they looked more Cherokee than I did. The cost of all that prejudice? Hurt, pain, and lots of fights!

So don't fool yourself, prejudice is not new. It's been around since the beginning of history. Oh, it might have been called preconceived, distorted, twisted, bias, or even envy like the reason Caine killed Able. It's all prejudice. It's an opinion made beforehand without true knowledge, thought, reason, or insight about a person, a group of people, a place, or things, and it can be good or bad.

For instance, before I even smelled oatmeal cooking on my grandmother's stove, I was prejudice against it. I knew it was bad. It had to be because how could anyone like something that I heard was mushy, gummy, tasteless, and old. At least that was what I had "heard", so I was prejudice.  On the other hand, before my baby brother came into this world, I was already prejudice for him. I knew he would be the light of my life, and that I would love him over anyone else until the end of time. How? I had neve seen him. I didn't even know he was a boy. All I "heard" was "baby." I was prejudice. I know this is simplifying it, but you get the idea.

Today, all we hear is prejudice. This person is prejudice against that one because of the color of their skin, or their living conditions, or their culture, or the slant of their eyes, or their job, or their associations,
or affiliations. In actuality, NONE of that matters. The only thing that does is what type of man or women, girl or boy, or human the person is. Like them or don't like them for what and who they are after you gain true knowledge of the individual.

​That, however, is the difference between writing and real life. In writing, you can make your characters as prejudice as you want in order to dramatize your story. In real life, though, life is too short, and there is so much to do and enjoy. Everyone would do well to drop the word prejudice from their hearts so they can be much happier.

​(As a side note, I still hate oatmeal, but the hate didn't come until after I tasted it. And, I still love my baby (not so little now) brother ad will until the end of time.)



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    Sherry Alexander

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