Social discrimination
Years ago, while still living at home and attending high school, there was a person who lived a few blocks down the street from my parents’ house. Back then, anything different or out of the ordinary was scrutinized, not only by children and youths, but by the adults of the community as well.
The individual in question was a 40ish man who no one really knew very well. He was rarely seen in public, and it seemed that years would pass before there was an actual sighting. There had been rumors that he was mentally ill - and I’m sure that many children were warned by their parents not to talk to him and to avoid any contact in the event that he might venture from his lair and begin lurching down the quiet streets in search of prey.
He lived with his elderly mother and it was always assumed that he was incapable of looking after himself. His mother was always out doing the shopping and errands and I assume the son was always home, since he didn’t work - at least, not according to the local gossips.
For years rumors spread like wildfire. “He’s schizophrenic, don’t you know?” “He had a nervous breakdown.” “He’s a wanted criminal.” “He’s a child molester.” There was certainly no shortage of opinions. But at the end of the day, it all came down to the fact that the “community” would rather not have this person living next door to them. His mother was accepted just fine, “but there was something not right about that son of hers.”
I suppose I can’t blame them for being protective of their kids. I would probably feel the same in their shoes. However, this person was automatically condemned by an entire town - why? He was introverted and house-bound? He was rarely seen in public? He always walked with his head down – never looking at anyone and only speaking to his mother?
People tend to think the worst of anyone they cannot figure out. If a person does not provide any information to others with which to form an opinion, then they will gladly fill in the blanks by themselves – and it’s usually not very positive.
He was the target of much abuse. Shamefully, I had even been part of a group of high-school students that tormented this man at every opportunity. Although I felt bad about it, I allowed myself to become a part of it, simply to belong and to be accepted. Striving for social acceptance at another’s expense was shameful.
Looking back, I think it’s obvious that this poor fellow suffered from severe social anxiety. All the classic symptoms were there. The way he avoided eye contact, never smiled, always stared at the ground, and never talked to anyone. However, back then no one really knew much about mental illness. You were either sane or you were not. At least that’s how it was in this small town (and still may be today).
Now, I’m presuming quite a lot here without really knowing the true facts, but social anxiety just fits together so perfectly.
A very profound thought had occurred to me during one of my early morning strolls. I started getting a little anxious as I was approaching my parents’ house at the end of my long walk. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but then it hit me. I wanted to get home before the kids started gathering around the bus stops. All of a sudden, I was the guy at the end of the street that everyone avoided, and kids made fun of. A different generation and a different decade, but there it was – I was the local “oddball”. I would be providing entertainment for all the gossips that had nothing better to do with their lives. This was poetic justice. I felt like I was stuck in one of those old twilight zone episodes.
It certainly would take a lot of effort to turn this town around. Later, I would find myself grateful for the opportunity to win them over.
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