Autobiography
In
the summer of my twelfth year, I learned a great
deal about my character and a lesson that I
am sure will serve me well throughout the rest
of my life. I was attending the prestigious
Five Star Basketball Camp, the toughest and
most acclaimed basketball camp in the country
for aspiring college athletes. In great contrast
to the year-round environment I experienced
at school, the majority of the camps attendees
were black, and the white kids in the camp made
up a small minority. Thus the stage was set
for me to learn more about myself in one week
than I ever had.
I
vividly recall sitting at the dilapidated table
that resembled a picnic table in the center
of the overcrowded cafeteria. Sweaty, beaten
down young bodies ages 12 through 18 were rapidly
replenishing body fluids and indiscriminately
shoveling down the undercooked meat that looked
like abstract art on cracked, dirty, vanilla
colored trays. I was in the middle of the frantic
scene, sitting at this table with about 12 kids,
most of them black, with a coach seated at the
head. Our table had yet to be cleared so that
we could get up and get food from the food window,
so we sat and talked about the days events.
Chris,
who was seated directly to my left was lamenting
his missed last second shot that would have
won a game for his team. Jason, who had guarded
him on that critical last play, sat directly
across from Chris and was making fun of him
for crippling under his intense defense. Then
came the moment that would forever change me.
"Shut up you (expletive) Jew," Chris
snarled at Jason through clenched teeth. The
next voice said, "Table eleven, get up,
push in your chairs and get some food. Cmon,
lets go fellas." Irv, the heavyset
cafeteria manager shot a crooked glance through
his thick brown bifocals that had been fogged
by the sweltering heat inside the cafeteria
as he ordered us to the front of the room. I
hadnt enough time to say something to
my tablemate about his remark before we all
headed for the food window. I got up, pushed
in my chair and followed the rest of my hungry
tablemates. Puzzled, I replayed Chriss
laconic retort over and over in my head. "He
called him a Jew," I thought. My mind turned
like a car engine in overdrive as I tried to
figure out what had just transpired. The sweaty
cafeteria lady who plopped two scoops of mashed
potatoes on my tray then interrupted my thoughts.
I
have grown up as a biracial (African-American/White)
and Jewish kid, who has lived more lives than
one, attuned to both the struggles of blacks
and the fears of whites. I have been witness
to events that have either helped me to understand
myself as a person, or something about the world.
As a result of my unique position, I have been
forced to wear numerous faces, so to speak,
adapting speech and appearance with the given
element. Being a chameleon has allowed me to
learn things about people that others might
not encounter at such an early age. The fact
that my experiences have taught me that there
is a need for such adaptation indicates that
the society in which we live places too much
importance on appearance. Because the American
public is constantly bombarded with images of
beauty, it does not take a genius to come to
this conclusion. Instead, I refer more directly
to the fact that all people, especially those
my age, seem to be addicted to giving labels
to people. In turn these labels can stagnate
their social mobility and personal growth. Such
labeling or categorization is natural, as it
is the way the mind works. However, I have found
that most often people are not well enough equipped
with sufficient facts or necessary experiences
when it comes to people outside their own race,
and thus they wrongfully make assumptions about
the identity of others. And we all know what
happens when one assumes.
Are
we as humans, products of our environments,
or simply preprogrammed beings that think, act,
walk, talk and exist a certain way entirely
because of heritage? My life and experiences
have taught me that Mortimer Duke was absolutely
right when he bet his brother Randolph, in my
favorite movie, Trading Places," that the
former is true. Unfortunately, I can recall
a great many occurrences in which people of
different backgrounds have made assumptions
about my family and me that have left them looking
racist when they might have harbored no ill
thoughts regarding race and just lacked experience
as did Randolph Duke.
I
have been mistaken, when dressed in a fashionable
suit and tie, for a valet parking person while
at an upscale dinner with my family. Where we
garage our familys Ford Expedition, an
ignorant woman once told my father, Dave Simsa
public figure and professional sportscaster
for ESPN, that she would not be needing her
car any longer that day. Another woman one might
call mindless told my aunt that she was looking
for a nanny, and seemed only to approach her
assuming that she was a nanny, because of the
color of her skin. These and many other unfortunate
instances exemplify the fact that too often,
peoples identities are wrongfully assumed
by those around them. The only way such blatant
ignorance can be combated is with facts, new
experiences and exposure to the new.
When
we returned to the camp table primed to eat,
I turned immediately to Chris after having thought
about his comment the whole way back from the
food window. I said simply, "Im Jewish."
This declaration brought about a rousing "Ooooohhh"
in unison from the rest of the table, who waited
eagerly for the tension and violence they thought
would ensue. Instead Chris turned to me and
said, "Oh, Im sorry man. I didnt
know. I never would have expected that. We later
discussed the origin of his comment and I found
Chris to hold no anti-Semitic sentiment; he
had just heard the word Jew used in a derogatory
manner more often than not. Since people are
products of their environments, others must
take it upon themselves as I did to effect change
in the psyche of those who are racists, just
plain ignorant or just unexposed. Therefore,
I have chosen to educate and contribute to the
greater awareness of those I come in contact
with because I have been given a special situation
and it is the only right thing to do. I feel
it necessary to change the world for the better
so that the next well dressed black person might
not be mistaken for a parking lot attendant
because of his skin color. It is also my hope
that blacks not make similar assumptions and
mistakes for similar reasons, holding either
racist or xenophobic sentiments because of unfortunate
beginnings to a long history in America that
began over 250 years ago. Each change must be
effected on a personal level, and I believe
that with the tools I have been given, that
it is my job to make the world a better place.
Jarret
Sims is a biracial (African-American and white/Jewish)
college student. His interests include writing,
poetry, basketball, golf and the stock market.
He is a freshman at George Washington University.