by Keaton Ibendahl
The past few years I’ve conducted a sort of case study on my brother— despite being raised in the same household only two years apart, there are times when people mistaking us for twins seems like the last thing I could consider him. My walls are dotted with posters from local events and haphazardly done watercolor paintings; on his door is a violently American yard sign that boasts the second amendment to the backdrop of an American flag. I could probably be considered a borderline communist and he would most likely call himself a Ron Swanson. Of course, the more traditional names for these roles would be Democrat and Republican, but our self-appointed titles are simply just more fun.
It’s safe to say that both of us have pretty strong biases on a wide array of issues. Our most recent debate went like this: he presented the argument that because everyone has different perspectives, reading ten books by white men would be equivalent to reading ten books by people of color(because someone’s race doesn’t always affect their experience). My argument was that it does— just because race hasn’t affected his personal experience in a way that he has to notice, it doesn’t mean that others don’t experience it in a way that does. We went back and forth like this for a while, and eventually I went upstairs and grabbed every book I could find that showed why it’s important to read diversely— Americanah, The Diary of a Part-Time Indian, Half of a Yellow Sun, The Handmaid’s Tale, and A Lesson Before Dying joined me back at the dining room table.
I wasn’t surprised when he quietly left the argument without taking a single book. I was, however, a little disheartened. I think that if I’m not uncomfortable with encountering new concepts or points of view, I’m not paying attention; this self-education I’ve embarked on, while it’s not perfect, is good. As a white middle-class family, my brother and I have the option to be complacent with where we stand in the world. He has not challenged himself to look at the situations of others; and while I haven’t done enough, I’ve learned that discomfort is inevitable when challenging and growing from prejudices I haven’t realized I had. I think that education of the world around oneself is an invaluable skill to have, especially when it comes to considering points of view outside yourself— we don’t exist in the world alone, and to understand your place in it, you have to be willing to understand others.
This is the age of globalization, and the young people are the champions of connectedness. Of all the people to make these connections and understand each other, my generation has the most ability to. Access to understanding through personal experiences, whether that be through literature, media, or discussion was once a massive barrier; today, we have access through our fingertips. The only difference between those who stay complacent and those who don’t is learning to love the uncomfortable.
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