I was eight
when I first learned about racism. A teacher at our school, a Middle-Eastern
man whose name I can’t remember, took all of the boys in my class to one area
while the girls were taken separately by another teacher. I never found out why
we were separated by gender (or if I did I don’t remember) but the memory has
stuck with me to this day.
The teacher
spoke plainly, with barely concealed disgust in his voice. He told us that
something called “racist language and behavior” had been going on at our
school, and that if it did not stop then the police would be contacted. The people
involved, he said, knew who they were. He refused to answer the questions put
forth by those of us who were left confused, and we were quickly sent back to
class.
At the
time, I had never heard the word “racist.” But if I had, it would have meant
nothing to me. I grew up in an area in the southern UK with a lot of racial
diversity. There were many “black” and “brown” kids at my school, and even a
few “Asians,” but these distinctions meant little to me. Referring to a peer as
black was no different than saying my best friend had brown eyes. As far as I
was concerned, good people were good people and bad people were bad people,
regardless of the colour of their skin. In my youthful naiveté, I was about as
close to proverbially colourblind as one could get.
The teacher’s
ultimatum shook me deeply. I went home and asked my mum what the teacher had
been referring to, fearful that I might be unwittingly engaging in this behaviour.
Mum quickly assuaged my fears, but seemed disturbed by the news that our school
had a race issue serious enough that the police would potentially be involved.
She explained
to me that some people – cruel, ignorant, petty individuals – liked to find excuses
for putting down and hurting others. Unfortunately, these people often used
differences in appearance, such as skin colour, as just such an excuse for
hurting others. Some people, she said, often white people like us, believed
themselves better simply because of the colour of their skin.
“Just like
the bullies who call people stupid or fat?” I asked.
“Yes,” Mum
said, a sad pride in her eyes. “Just like those bullies.”
This is one
of the defining moments of my childhood. The memory remains as powerful as the
actual experience. My mother provided a rather simplified definition of racism
for my young mind, but, as is often the case, simplicity can be poignant.
Racism, at
its core, is not a complex phenomenon. Simply put, it is the act by which
petty, ignorant, and insecure people finding an excuse – be that excuse the
colour of a person’s skin, their country of origin, or their religion of choice
– to relegate others as inferior in their own minds. Racism is just one of
countless forms this phenomenon takes.
As I
realized at the age of eight, racists are bullies.
Flash
forward to 2016, and we are seeing the legitimization of these bullies. This
presidential election race has allowed the darkest, cruelest, and pettiest
corners of humanity to slink out from their hiding places and find the most
dangerous thing one can give a bully: legitimacy.
This election
is about more than just Donald Trump. It’s certainly about more than Hillary Clinton
and whatever one might think of either candidate’s policies. This election is
about the same phenomenon that has allowed for the far right’s rise in Europe,
caused riots in Ferguson, Baltimore, and countless other cities, or resulted in
seismic geopolitical events such as Brexit.
I think it
is too early to define this phenomenon yet. We are living through a moment in
history, a turning point precipitated by events like 9/11 and the Great
Recession, and this election is merely a piece of a picture we won’t be able to
see in its entirety for years to come.
However, it
is possible to perceive parts of the picture. Attitudes and moods are clear.
People desire change. For many in the United States, this change comes in the
form of Donald Trump. He represents an alternative to everything people are
frustrated with – everything his competitor stands for. His followers want a revolution,
the complete overhaul of a system that seems to have left them behind.
Perhaps such
a revolution needs to come. Perhaps we should have allowed Bernie Sanders to
carry his own movement forward. Many of his supporters have now turned to
Trump, seeing their desire for change as more important than the candidate’s
obscene views. These people are so desperate for change that they would be
willing to bring it regardless of the costs.
A dam is about
to burst. I fear for what is to come, regardless of who sits in the White House
come January.
Our world
is not a fantasy, yet people seem to view it as such. There seems to be a
failure to realize that lasting, widespread change, particularly of the type
Trump will bring, cannot happen overnight and without bloodshed. Revolutions
come at a human cost, and, indeed, many ultimately fail.
If we allow
Trump’s revolution to happen, we legitimize the bullies. Though I am not an American,
I include myself in that “we” because tomorrow’s results will ripple throughout
the world. Donald Trump represents a discontent that is present across the
globe.
I urge people
to think about what this election means, what each candidate truly stands for
and the kind of people they represent. Every action has consequences, both
visible and invisible. Perhaps a President Trump will provide a welcome change
in some areas, a man willing to throw out the norms of politics and bring his
own change to a broken system. But is it worth all the things he will destroy in
order to bring change?
Think of
the people he represents. While many of his supporters are reasonable,
intelligent people, he also represents the dregs of humanity. It is this
minority, the percentage of his supporters who are bullies, those that hear his sickening words and nod in
agreement, that will cause the ripples. When people hear their darkest ideas
echoed by potentially the most powerful man in the world, those ideas are emboldened
and reinforced. Legitimized. Those most extreme in their hatred will inevitably
entice the moderate bullies, those simply ignorant and outdate in their
mindsets, into extremity, who will in turn induce others.
Donald
Trump’s election will be the pebble that causes the landslide.
Such
rhetoric might seem extreme, but it is hard to deny its accuracy. When has any
other leader so brazenly flaunted the democratic system? When has any other leader
openly made comments about rape? When before has a candidate so openly endorsed,
and been endorsed by, the worst of humanity, the dictators and extremists of
the world?
Donald
Trump by himself is not the problem. Does he hate all immigrants? Does he
believe women to be inferior? The simple answer is that these things do not
matter. The issue is that people believe that he thinks these things. The people who believe these
things hear their own convictions echoed in his words.
Whether
purposely or through ignorance, Donald Trump empowers the bigots and bullies of
the world. He gives weapons to people in schools such as my own, the bullies
who use skin colour and other visible distinctions as a mark of superiority.
When I was
eight, good teachers stood up for those whose rights were being stepped on. What
happens when these people, the people willing to stand up rather than stand
idle, are outnumbered by the apathetic? What happens when the apathetic become
bigots themselves?
I don’t
know what racism went on at my school when I was eight, but I know it was
stopped. With Donald Trump as president, it will not be stopped the next time.
In countless towns and cities across America and across the world, racism, sexism,
and various other cruelties will be allowed to run unchecked, because the most
powerful man in the world provides a voice for those that prey upon cruelty.
That is why
this election is important. Perhaps our system is broken. Perhaps Hillary
Clinton represents that broken system.
But at
least in this system we’ve always told the bullies they are bullies.
