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Do we need to be taught racialism?

3/1/2015

12 Comments

 
In 1956, at the age of 14, I lived between states of being—not a child any more, but not an adult either. As yet, 'the teenager' hadn't gained status. I still wore the same clothes as my sisters, pretty cotton dress with a cardigan buttoned at the top, lace-up shoes and white socks, although I had dispensed with the ribbon on my hair.

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My father, Lloyd as he liked to be called, had married the woman he loved, Mollie. He'd take me to swimming lessons at the City Baths in Melbourne, Australia. Sometimes, my sisters would come too, although not always—either because they were resentful or unhappy in his company. I found him charming. He'd sometimes take me to the Hilton Hotel for lunch, and I felt cherished. But wait, I remember one time when he embarrassed me. He asked for something they didn't have on the menu, let's say an orange. The waiter explained they didn't have any. Lloyd insisted they send out for the food he requested, made quite a fuss until he got his way. That's the type of alpha male he was.

Mollie was like a second mother to me, and cared for us all to the best of her ability, which must have been hard because she was an only child in a family of doting aunts. Inside her china cabinet were things like a tiny cup made from the shell of a coconut, and another with porcelain so fine we could see the light through it. In Brighton, we would sleep in the 'sleep-out', an extension built on the back of the house with louver windows and insect screens. If we took a short walk from the house, we'd reach a park where we could attempt to catch yabbies, like small lobsters, in the lake. We would tie a piece of meat to the end of string and catch whatever moved inside an old umbrella, squealing with excitement and nervousness. Then, we'd hurry home as fast as possible, pushing the poor yabby downward each time it crawled toward our fingers in a bid to escape. Mollie would cook our catch in a pot of boiling water to allow each of us a tiny taste.

PictureSouth Pacific stage show
When we arrived home in Prahran, Mother would give us a warm welcome and serve up some of our favorite apple fritters. No china cabinet graced our maisonette, but Mother decorated it with artistic flair. She'd given us the front bedroom, and she slept in the small second bedroom. I knew she was unhappy—lonely for company, wanting to be loved. One reticent man who lived in a house backing onto ours captured her attention for a while, Heinrich. We didn't know Germans were considered suspect, even ten years after the war ceased. Apparently, you've got to be taught these things. Like the lyrics in the South Pacific song of the same name.

You've Got to Be Carefully Taught. Those six words form the title of a song from Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein's South Pacific, the wildly popular musical revolving around cross-cultural love affairs in the South Pacific during World War II.

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear, you've got to be taught from year to year
It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.
You've got to be taught
To be afraid of people
Whose eyes are oddly made
And people whose skin is a different shade
You've got to be carefully taught.


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In 1957, many of our neighbors were Jewish, loving, kind, generous people. One of the young women played Liat in South Pacific in Her Majesty's Theater, on Exhibition Street, Melbourne. We children would play together and occasionally sleep over. Some of Mother's friends were in the theater, or worked in star promotion. One of the fathers, Lionel Landman, brought the Trinidadian pianist Winifred Atwell to Melbourne. Here's the link to see her play 'Black and White Rag'. 

During these years of living amongst mixed cultures, I learned to love different races and beliefs. In my dreamy years at the age of 14 and 15 years, life offered endless possibilities and held its breath, waiting for me to emerge as a young woman.

Wikipedia defines racialism thus: Racialism is the belief that the human species is naturally divided into distinct biological categories called 'races.' According to the Oxford English Dictionary, racialism is synonymous with racism.

Did you learn to respect all races and beliefs as a child?


12 Comments
Ajay Pai link
2/28/2015 07:52:36 pm

As a child, I was a part of this kids community, heralded by a Hindu activist group. They taught us, kids, the morals and values, through short stories, which still lingers on.

I also, would like to mention that you were lucky enough to have a loving and caring step-mom.

Reply
Alana Mautone link
2/28/2015 10:53:13 pm

I grew up in a city of eight million people, in a neighborhood that had various ethnic groups and races living together. I was taught respect for all at an early age. An enjoyable post; thank you for letting us enter your childhood again. Perhaps I should blog about mine more.

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Carol Cassara link
3/1/2015 02:34:20 am

No child is born a racist. It's learned, I am said to say.

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Carrie Ann Tripp link
3/1/2015 09:38:08 pm

What a great topic to bring exposure to. I do believe that our beliefs are greatly influenced by our environments during our early years. However, our raising most definitely doesn't dictate our core beliefs.

I grew up in a rural community where more than the majority of citizens were Caucasian Christians. People of differing background didn't linger. I do believe (hope) that has changed, but my vote belief has always been that we are all created the same...in God's image.

Where did I learn that? From God. The Bible. Through His Holy Spirit. It wasn't from my environment.

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Amy link
3/1/2015 09:50:07 pm

In the little town where I grew up, I think there were only white people living there, but my parents always treated folks of other colors just like they treated our white neighbors. I think it's a God-given thing, to accept others no matter what their skin color is. It's a sinful-man-thing to look down on other people for the simple matter that they are a different color, or have different type of features, or have carrot-orange hair, or whatever. All men were created in God's image, not just one color of man.

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Amalia link
3/1/2015 10:36:36 pm

I've heard lots of South Pacific songs-I love musicals-but I've never heard this one before-and sad to say, it's true. 'It's got to be drummed into your little ear, year after year.'

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Michelle Liew link
3/1/2015 11:18:45 pm

Respect for races is what stabilizies Singapore. If we hated each other because of race, we'd bet torn apart quickly, small as we are!

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Rachel link
3/2/2015 12:54:11 am

My siblings and I were taught to respect all people (who treated us with respect) regardless of the colour of their skin or religious beliefs. My father has always been interested in different cultures and taught us by example to learn about others rather than fear and/or judge. This is something I teach my children as well. The world is a much more interesting place because we're not carbon copies. :)

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Joan Harrington link
3/2/2015 12:58:13 am

Hi Francene,

We are definately taught to be raciest and me for one, believe that we should treat all races the same :)

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Dorit Sasson
3/2/2015 02:35:14 am

I don't think racism is a necessary concept to be taught. We Jews don't have a Jewish history month but it seems to be we are more and more discriminated against. It really depends on the home and the values imparted by our community.

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Amy Bovaird link
3/2/2015 10:41:27 am

Francine,
What a wonderful post!!!! I love your descriptions of your years growing up! I grew up in a small all-Caucasian town. There was only 1 black family who moved in and they lived on our street. They did mix in but I don't think they were ever really completely accepted, though I remember my father and the father became friends. Long after I moved away, I heard the KKK burned a barn down. I was horrified, having lived around the world and become an integral part of multicultural societies and I had even married an Egyptian. I couldn't believe my ears. I believe my parents were exceptions in our town. My mother welcomed most people into our home. Her big stipulation is that they had to have good manners.

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Donna link
3/2/2015 11:11:51 pm

love how you stated 'at the age of 14, I lived between states of being—not a child any more, but not an adult either.' I have felt that also - and I too went to private schools with kids of different races and I didn't notice - I don't remember my parents talking about other races so yes I have felt you need to be shown how! :(

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    Francene Stanley
    From England, I use news items in my novels which you can see below, all linked to an Amazon near you.

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