By JOSHUA BISHOP
Los Alamos

Whatever you feel about racism and all the things going on in the world, I ask you to read to the end, I promise this is worth your time.

I was the only child of a lower income single mother. I was also an illegal immigrant to the country my story happened in. I did not speak the language at all. We lived under the constant potential of being found out, caught and hassled, or whatever might happen. The country we were in has strict immigration laws.

When I first started in a new school in this country, my teacher refused to speak to me and demanded I be transferred to a different class. When that failed, she gave me Fs on every paper I turned in. Every day I was told to go back where I came from, racial slurs were yelled at me, and I was frequently physically attacked.

One day six people surrounded me in order to beat me. At the time, I had two pairs of identical school clothes, one to wear and one to wash. As they rained down blows, one of them tore my shirt. In a moment of fear and anger and injustice I fought back. (I’m the one who got in trouble for fighting). From then on, I fought back when I had to, rarely winning, but showing I had boundaries I wouldn’t roll over on.

I learned the language well enough in about 3 months, so I was finally able to communicate. I worked incredibly hard on my schoolwork, turning in papers so well done that I began to get Ds and eventually Cs. I started to help other kids with their schoolwork and taught them words from my native language. I joined sports and did my best to support my teams. I joined the school band, became the flag bearer, and showed respect to their country and history, even though they openly hated mine. When group punishment was given out by teachers or coaches, I accepted it in silence, and tried to help other kids, who were having a hard time, through it.

I strived to make myself excellent in every way possible, in spite of the disadvantages, constant hate, and downright violence. I began to make begrudging friends and when they would hurl slurs at me, I would hurl jokes back and we would laugh, push each other, and get along. Eventually they became close friends.

By the end of the year there were a couple of people who still hated me, but silently, because it was now unpopular to do so. Most of the kids were my friends. On the last day of school, the teacher, with tears in their eyes, hugged me tightly.

My solution may not work for all people in all situations, but it will work for many. For me, the solution to racism was to make myself as un-hateable as possible. To demonstrate that I had respect for the culture and country I was a guest in. To show that I could be trusted and contribute to sports, games, and the school community. I defended myself when necessary, but most of the time I responded to hate with stoicism, with helpfulness, and with my own persistence towards success.

I did not demand anyone change anything for me, I did not become bitter and hateful myself, and I refused to let racism stop me. I went around it, through it, and transmuted it. Because I decide my worth and how I contribute to the world, not anyone else. Because it’s up to me how I respond and feel about what happens. Because I am an individual human of value, not just a member of a group, as were each of them so I treated them accordingly, as individuals.