Confessions of a Stereotyper

Terry Bowman

 
Summer. The very word inspires a quickening of the 
heartbeat. I think it all starts from the time we 
are in the second grade, when we realize we have 
three whole months of fun in the sun. Those hard 
little desks of school behaving like the stocks of 
old times, keeping us rigidly in place like those 
old sinners. This summer has been one to write down 
in the record books. It has been an eye-opener for me.

I can remember an age not so very long ago, when I 
was much like the rest of society. Appearances and 
reality become a blur within the shutters of a closed 
mind. It's easy to say that you have an open mind, to 
do the politically correct thing. It is your own heart 
that determines the openness of your mind. Other 
people's perceptions of you are irrelevant if you can 
be true to yourself.

I've always been a slave of the first impression. I'm 
the one who slaps a stereotype on you before you get 
the first word out of your mouth. I'm sure that I've 
lost a lot of potential friends over the years because 
of this stupid penchant. In this summer of my thirty-
fifth year, the year that I became old enough to be 
elected President, all of my stereotypes have started 
to come crashing down.

It started harmlessly enough at a street festival. The 
event was put on by the local chapter of Anti 
Racist Action. I arrived early in the 
afternoon, content to sit in the sun, listen to some 
great music, and maybe meet some cool people in the 
process. It was a perfect day to do just that. A crowd 
of several hundred gathered on the lawns, drinking beer 
and listening to the wonderful sounds of a dozen 
different bands, a cross section of all musical genres.

I'll admit to being sheltered over the last few years. 
About six years ago I did the requisite stint as a 
political activist, canvassing for various political 
causes. It took me about six months to realize that I 
was selling the people a false bill of goods. While most 
people have a fear of walking up to a door and talking 
to a stranger about giving their money to a cause they've 
never heard of, I learned to relish it. I was the modern 
day snake oil salesman, telling the people what they 
wanted to hear and then fleecing them out of the money 
they had worked so hard to make. It wasn't that my group 
was fraudulent, only my personal motives were.

It was memories of those bygone days that came flooding 
back as I sat there at the Anti-Festival, people watching 
to the sounds of ska and rockabilly. I felt a sense of 
outrage when I saw the first one walk in. Then there were 
four, and then a dozen. My outrage turned to concern that 
there would be a riot. Keeping one eye on the stage, I 
trained the other one on them. The skinheads.

You can imagine my wonder as I watched them interact with 
the rest of the crowd. I imagined that they would be 
shunned by the liberal set, the various flower children 
and PC people that made up the rest of the crowd. It 
seemed that they fit right in, an accepted part of this 
little community that I had wandered into. It seemed odd 
to me, incomprehensible, that this legion of hate would 
be allowed to partake of this beautiful celebration. The 
bald heads and the Doc Martens conjured visions of jack-
booted Nazis in my naïve head.

A friend of mine, younger and much more in tune with the 
pulse of the festival, filled me in on this phenomenon. 
It seems that these were the good skinheads, the SHARP's, 
SkinHeads Against Racial Prejudice. Believing myself to 
be open-minded, I had still slapped a negative stereotype 
on these young people that I had never met. It made me 
take a look at myself and decide if I liked what I saw. 
I could see that I made the same types of character 
analysis in almost every other facet of my life. 
Stereotypes were a way of life for me.

I wonder if there are any support groups out there for 
people like me, groups to help me get through this evil 
affliction. I'm sure there are others out there like me, 
yet I wonder if they can admit to their guilt. I'm sure 
that if I maintain a strict regimen, I can beat it. I 
only wonder if our society can do the same.

Enjoy the times this month. In September we will focus 
our energies on Diversity. There are more questions than 
answers in this great melting pot called Earth. We will 
attempt to find as many of the answers as possible. I 
hope you'll come along for the ride.

Terry Bowman
Editor
twenty-first century times.