Oblivious Upbringings — Part II
I was duped.
I spent my formative years watching my dad work on advanced degrees. He sometimes took me to “work” with him and introduced me to the lab rats—both the rodent and human kind. He even helped me run my own science fair experiment wherein I trained a rat to jump over a fence and push a lever to get a morsel of food.
During my adolescent years, my father was a university professor and our family lived in one of two adjacent university towns. In the ‘60s. So my perception of “normal” life was one where most people go to college. And many of those are draft dodgers and anti-war protesters.
Adding to my distorted perception of how “normal” Americans operate, my family was rather nomadic. It wasn’t until 7th grade that I met a person who had lived in the same house all her life. I was mind boggled. And then, at my 20th high school reunion I learned that one of my classmates had purchased his parents’ house. He still lived in the house where he grew up.
But it really wasn’t until I moved to Northwest Arkansas – in my 50s – that I digested the fact that people not only wind up living in or near their childhood home all their lives, they plan it that way. Well – when I was 19, I had a co-worker at the University of Mississippi Medical Center in Jackson that had never been outside of Hinds County and had no desire to try it. But I thought she was distinctly an outlier.
Turns out she wasn’t. It seems plenty of people are born in a vicinity they come to regard as home for their entire lives. My upbringing simply didn’t provide that view. My childhood vision of American life was limited. I now live among people who can see their childhood homes from their current grown-up abodes. They have genuine roots.
And I now know that some people have no need for college. Maybe they raise chickens and cows as part of the family business. Or learn a trade that fits in with community needs. Higher education is not necessary for the end goal.
Neither their lifestyle nor mine is the correct one. Both are valid. But I had to flip a switch in my brain to appreciate that.
My living in Northwest Arkansas has taught me a few other things. This is the least culturally diverse area in which I’ve ever resided. By a long shot. And there are still echoes of the white superiority that was once public policy. I’ve heard the word “boy” used to refer to elderly Black men. “How is that old boy?” “Wonder what those boys are up to.”
The speakers don’t think they mean anything derogatory. It’s just leftover lingo from their upbringing. But it’s lingo that denotes a class system. Lingo I, personally, find offensive. On one occasion I addressed it, friend to friend. On another, I let it go, not wanting to rock the boat. Although I believe silence is complicity.
Our governor wants to keep the history of race relations out of schools so as not to make anyone feel bad. When I give her the benefit of the doubt (which my upbringing made difficult for me), I believe she’s merely protecting notions that she grew up with. The vision of American life she absorbed and that continues to feel right and comfortable for her.
Well, as I’ve said, we all grow up with some unsound biases. Kudos to those who make the effort to recognize that. Stay tuned…