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There's a picture of the Finance team that the Senior Staff Account hung up that I wish they would take down. But I say nothing, because how vain is that, to want a photo taken down because I can't abide my likeness inside it. That's not me I think. I look nothing like that. And I do not want to be seen that way.
On the subway ride home, surrounded by all shapes and sizes and ages and colors of people, I read a passage in Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami that perfectly illustrates my own feelings about how we should perceive others and how I wish others perceived me. It also articulates some of my frustration with the inadequacy of the term "colorblindness" or "genderblindness" - which is currently being batted about lj as a type of racism or racism in denial or sexism in denial. For me, colorblindness does not mean that you can't see what someone looks like, or what color of skin or race you perceive - but rather, that you fight against using that criteria in making decisions regarding them. You judge them as individuals not as members of a *group*. OR at the very least you attempt to do so. Because, what you see or perceive could be a lie. Just as a camera lies about what people look like, so do the eyes. Just because someone appears to be one thing to your eyes does not mean they are. Our senses are not 100% accurate. Nor is our knowledge regarding someone's racial heritage. Our experiences while helpful aren't a good basis for making a judgment about someone we have just met. For example just because someone wears a turban - does not make them a member of a muslim extremist faction. Or just because they are a woman does not mean that they can't be a fireman. But - I'll shut up - because I think Murakami articulates this a little better than I do in his story.
The passage is a conversation between Oshima, the head librarian at a small library, and two women who are patrolling public facilities to determine how they can be improved to meet the needs of women and not be sexist. It is told in first person and in the pov of Kafka, a 15 year old boy. Since it is fairly long, I'll paraphrase the beginning section.
I strongly recommend reading the book yourself if you get the chance.
( Spoilers for Kafka on The Shore and rather long...but you can still enjoy the book knowing this. )
[Later after the women have left, Oshima turns to the narrator, Kafka and gives the following speech which struck a chord in me and I wanted to share and keep track of the important bits here, which isn't as spoilery, but it helps to have read the above passage to appreciate the full meaning:]
I know I'm a little different from everyone else, but I'm still a human being. That's what I'd like you to realize. I'm just a regular person, not some monster. I feel the same things everyone else does, act the same way. Sometimes, though, that small difference feels like an abyss. But I guess there's not much I can do about it....
I've experienced all kinds of discrimination. Only people who've been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I'm as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T.S Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don't want to do. Like that lovely pair we just me. Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas - none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't..."
Kafka:"Cause if you take every single person who lacks imagination seriously, there's no end to it."
"That's it," Oshima says....
"Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe. Of course it's important to know what's right and what's wrong. Individual errors in judgement can usually be corrected. As long as you have the courage to admit mistakes, things can be turned around. But narrow minds with no imagination are like parasites that transform the host, change form, and continue to thrive. They're a lost cause, and I don't want anyone like that coming in here."
End of paraphrased passage. Pp.176-181 of Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami
The inability to see past our own experience, to imagine something we haven't seen or don't know. The inability to question. The inability to look past categories. The inability to admit when we are wrong, even in abject embarrassment. Moral superiority and self-righteousness scare me - in myself and others - because you risk putting people into categories, you stop imagining. Or attempting to understand. I hate to say this, but I know about 90% of the assumptions I make regarding people are probably wrong. I often learn how wrong when I meet and get to know them. I don't believe in love at first sight. And I don't believe in first impressions. That does not mean I don't make them or go by them. I try not to.
I think you usually have to try something before you can judge it. Whether it be a book, a food, a film or a piece of clothing. And I think you have to imagine what it is like to walk in someone else's shoes, to know what it feels like to be them, before you can put them into a box or category that they won't fit.
Colorblindness to me means not judging by what I see. Waiting until I've got more information before I act. Difficult as that is. Judging a person as an individual not as part of a group based on the color of their skin or religion or gender - and I fall down on the job about 65% of the time.
On the subway ride home, surrounded by all shapes and sizes and ages and colors of people, I read a passage in Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami that perfectly illustrates my own feelings about how we should perceive others and how I wish others perceived me. It also articulates some of my frustration with the inadequacy of the term "colorblindness" or "genderblindness" - which is currently being batted about lj as a type of racism or racism in denial or sexism in denial. For me, colorblindness does not mean that you can't see what someone looks like, or what color of skin or race you perceive - but rather, that you fight against using that criteria in making decisions regarding them. You judge them as individuals not as members of a *group*. OR at the very least you attempt to do so. Because, what you see or perceive could be a lie. Just as a camera lies about what people look like, so do the eyes. Just because someone appears to be one thing to your eyes does not mean they are. Our senses are not 100% accurate. Nor is our knowledge regarding someone's racial heritage. Our experiences while helpful aren't a good basis for making a judgment about someone we have just met. For example just because someone wears a turban - does not make them a member of a muslim extremist faction. Or just because they are a woman does not mean that they can't be a fireman. But - I'll shut up - because I think Murakami articulates this a little better than I do in his story.
The passage is a conversation between Oshima, the head librarian at a small library, and two women who are patrolling public facilities to determine how they can be improved to meet the needs of women and not be sexist. It is told in first person and in the pov of Kafka, a 15 year old boy. Since it is fairly long, I'll paraphrase the beginning section.
I strongly recommend reading the book yourself if you get the chance.
( Spoilers for Kafka on The Shore and rather long...but you can still enjoy the book knowing this. )
[Later after the women have left, Oshima turns to the narrator, Kafka and gives the following speech which struck a chord in me and I wanted to share and keep track of the important bits here, which isn't as spoilery, but it helps to have read the above passage to appreciate the full meaning:]
I know I'm a little different from everyone else, but I'm still a human being. That's what I'd like you to realize. I'm just a regular person, not some monster. I feel the same things everyone else does, act the same way. Sometimes, though, that small difference feels like an abyss. But I guess there's not much I can do about it....
I've experienced all kinds of discrimination. Only people who've been discriminated against can really know how much it hurts. Each person feels the pain in his own way, each has his own scars. So I think I'm as concerned about fairness and justice as anybody. But what disgusts me even more are people who have no imagination. The kind T.S Eliot calls hollow men. People who fill up that lack of imagination with heartless bits of straw, not even aware of what they're doing. Callous people who throw a lot of empty words at you, trying to force you to do what you don't want to do. Like that lovely pair we just me. Gays, lesbians, straights, feminists, fascist pigs, communists, Hare Krishnas - none of them bother me. I don't care what banner they raise. But what I can't stand are hollow people. When I'm with them I just can't bear it, and wind up saying things I shouldn't..."
Kafka:"Cause if you take every single person who lacks imagination seriously, there's no end to it."
"That's it," Oshima says....
"Narrow minds devoid of imagination. Intolerance, theories cut off from reality, empty terminology, usurped ideals, inflexible systems. Those are the things that really frighten me. What I absolutely fear and loathe. Of course it's important to know what's right and what's wrong. Individual errors in judgement can usually be corrected. As long as you have the courage to admit mistakes, things can be turned around. But narrow minds with no imagination are like parasites that transform the host, change form, and continue to thrive. They're a lost cause, and I don't want anyone like that coming in here."
End of paraphrased passage. Pp.176-181 of Kafka on The Shore by Haruki Murakami
The inability to see past our own experience, to imagine something we haven't seen or don't know. The inability to question. The inability to look past categories. The inability to admit when we are wrong, even in abject embarrassment. Moral superiority and self-righteousness scare me - in myself and others - because you risk putting people into categories, you stop imagining. Or attempting to understand. I hate to say this, but I know about 90% of the assumptions I make regarding people are probably wrong. I often learn how wrong when I meet and get to know them. I don't believe in love at first sight. And I don't believe in first impressions. That does not mean I don't make them or go by them. I try not to.
I think you usually have to try something before you can judge it. Whether it be a book, a food, a film or a piece of clothing. And I think you have to imagine what it is like to walk in someone else's shoes, to know what it feels like to be them, before you can put them into a box or category that they won't fit.
Colorblindness to me means not judging by what I see. Waiting until I've got more information before I act. Difficult as that is. Judging a person as an individual not as part of a group based on the color of their skin or religion or gender - and I fall down on the job about 65% of the time.
