Branded?

One aspect of my stay here in Deutschland is to objectively observe the people and how they interact with each other. What I'm about to share with the world is not anything read from books but solely based on what my eyes and ears have captured since my arrival of less than 3 weeks ago.

As a modern educator, or having the hopes of becoming one, one important aspect of my professional being is to be able to instruct ANYONE despite their abilities, incapabilities, hue, socio-economic background et al. However, I have to confront my personal biases and expunge them if I am to embolden others to do the same.

So for instance, should I have a scornful attitude toward Guyanese when I go to the market to purchase produce,blaming them for inflated prices? Or should I take the Mickey out on all Nigerians, mocking them or their 'funny' accent? Should I still promulgate the stereotype that blonde topped girls will always be dumb? Is every single Jamaican violent?

So, having prefaced my proceeding rant, I may as well just speak my mind.

I've observed a tendency by Germans, irrespective of age, gender or social standing to 'turn up dey nose' or throw 'cut eyes' to people whom I've come to realize are of Turkish lineage. Scornful eyes pierce their darkened features relegating them to the peripheries of Germany's social space. It's an arduous task to translate the feelings of discomfort I felt as my heart sunk to deep, dark ebbs.

Funny enough, these kids who entered the strassebabahn (tram) and into my memory seemingly were en route to cash in what potentially could have been their only bite between sun-up and sun-down. You see they were laden with empty plastic bottles (and my guess being)to redeem them at a local grocery store in exchange fro 10cents a piece. With that meagre earning, it might permit them to walk away from the grocer's with some pasta or rice, a cucumber and some pesto maybe, not sufficient enough though for a quality cut of chicken or beef.

Loud and vivacious, they were creating a bustle of klacks and klicks and bellyful bouts of laughter, much to the displeasure of the predominantly prim and proper ridership.

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So while purposefully escaping reality while on the tram by transfering my thoughts on paper, a pleasant looking older couple enters. With them, a kid is accompanying- too young, I assume to be their's, maybe though, the playful Easter gift dropped off for the weekend by the elderly pair's posterity.

Between the kid and I, our eyes collide.

And within no more than three heartbeats, he flicks his hand pointedly toward me. Immediately the feamale kin puts her aged hands over his and regulates the situation. Ensuing the gesture of mere ignorance,I assume, (due to my lack of German)she gives him an impromptu lesson on diversity, equity, privilege and manners.

Oddly enough, today I don a t-shirt with the inscription:

"I am not a target for hate"

...and so are not the bottled children or the one loved by the two elderly persons or the person/persons whose eyes will read this.

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