My sister Lisa wrote this great story on the more deeply lodged fears and preconceptions we have towards the "other".
I am pretty lucky, I guess. Growing up in downtown Toronto, I was not exposed to a whole lot of racial tension. Most of my harsh judgements were reserved for people who lived in the suburbs and ordered sweet and sour chicken balls when they went for chinese.
But when I was in Jerusalem, my paradigm, er, shifted (do paradigms do motions other than shifting?)
This one guy i worked with, an Israeli Arab, totally got my sense of humour. He was really laid back, a great chef, and seemed centuries ahead of other guys I worked with when it came to not being a skeev around the ladies.
One night we were hanging out on a break, having a laugh, smoking a cigarette, and he said: "Why don't we hang out after work some time?"
And my heart sank because I started to think ahead. About how hard it would be to integrate him into my social life, when so many of my friends, even the moderate political ones, were incredibly uneasy around Arabs. And how he probably had his baggage with Israelis. And how this never would have happened in Toronto.
And how embarassed I was about this and about my own reaction of fear and unease and those stupid thoughts that maybe not him, but a friend of his was a....
So yeah, sometimes tolerance (which sounds passive) requires bravery. And I was not so tolerant, I guess.
