what lies beneath

So when I was driving around Holland the other week, I kept pointing out different things to Jenny, my new friend from China (see last week's post). "There's a cemetery," I excitedly said. She asked what that meant, and I explained it's where we bury dead people. One block down I pointed out a few churches on the left and said, "And on the right is a funeral home!" She asked what that meant, and I explained, "That's where we get the bodies ready to bury." Kate later told me it was "way too dark of a tour." What?! I hadn't noticed at the time, but I guess it felt a little odd as it was coming out of my mouth.

For a society obsessed with death and dying (as in trying to never do it), we sure don't talk about it a lot. We walk our dogs and children over the graves of the dead, and it seems normal. That is, until you stop to think about what lies beneath.

Since this "death tour," I've been thinking a lot about the parts of life and society that are hidden. There is this sharp contrast of life above and death below. Beauty on the outside, and ugly on the inside. Many of us can go on with our lives quite successfully ignoring this juxtaposition, until a young girl in the backseat says, "It's weird to think that there are dead bodies down there!" Or, until blatant bigotry and racism proudly shows it's hate-filled face in our streets, and we begin to wonder how deep these roots grow.

I've been naive, I'll admit it. I've only been a minority once, my 7th grade year in Africa, and the boys told my brother, "Your sister is fat!" (which apparently was a compliment), and one kid threw stones at my bike as I zoomed past. But I never felt unsafe or hated for being different. I guess I grew up assuming that the majority of people thought like I did, could love people who are different, and that we had moved on past all the hate. But I was wrong, and one incident after another in our country alone has proven that. I shouldn't have been surprised; after all, our country was in many ways built on racial divides.

I have pondered how some can hate others simply for being different. Those who feel their privilege slipping and feel the need to somehow prove their superiority over others to make themselves feel stronger. Because, besides those rare cases of psychopaths, such hate is taught, passed on from parent to child, or indoctrinated through a warped group-think, that stems from fear.

Then I wonder if we're all capable of such hate, and how much we all harbor some of the them vs us mentality. Or, perhaps even equally disgraceful, how many of us go along with ignoring the problem just because it doesn't impact us directly, or we don't want to make waves in our otherwise "nice" world. I have never seen blatant racism, but I've heard stories of Americans here in Holland who were told (around the time of the election) to "go back to their own country." While I know I would say something if I witnessed this (I can get a "quick rage"), I also know I've heard casual racist remarks from the lips of others and let it pass. I'd always write it off to old age or ignorance, but in not saying anything, as a person with some influence in their life, am I not a part of the problem?

If I can say one positive thing, it's that it is easier to fight a problem you can name. It's hard to ignore conflict that you can see. We are divided on so many fronts--even from those we love. But now, with the upheaval of such stark differences and beliefs, we're forced to look our own prejudices and pride in the face. It becomes impossible to walk over the graves of the past when death is brought to the surface, where no one is without prejudice, and we are all called to love.