Fighting in our hearts
When I was a student in high school, in the assembly Hall there was a balcony area. When there was a full school assembly (other than for morning roll-call and prayers) the top class, the Sixth Form, had the exclusive right to sit there, out of sight of the teachers. All of the lower school longed for the day when they were in the Sixth and could sit there. We wanted to do well enough in Fifth form exams to be able to return, and then to exercise our privilege for the balcony. When my year was finishing the Fourth form, the rule changed under the new principal, allowing all classes above the Third access to the balcony. One of the nuns tried to explain that in fairness to everyone, they were removing this privilege— not everyone, she told us, made it to the Sixth, so it’s only fair that everyone have an opportunity. We, and the Fifth, complained. “It’s not fair! We’ve waited all these years to get there! If girls want to sit there, they should work hard enough to get into the Sixth! Why should we be denied the access that all the girls before us has?”
Before this, there were those who would sneak into the balcony and hide from the occasional teacher who would check in on us. We might try to get an older sister, friend or cousin to take us with her, and hope that nobody would make us leave. It didn’t matter that we would still have access to the area. It certainly didn’t matter that we could enter it more than a year early. All that we could think of was that we wouldn’t be exclusive when we ascended the stairs on our own. Then came a concert, and we were sitting there with our friends from other classes, which made it all the more enjoyable.
Funny, isn’t it, how something that we craved as a privilege separated us from our friends, and how waiving that entitlement ultimately made everyone happier. I see that pattern repeated when there are discussions about access by disadvantaged groups. The arguments usually include things like, “if they really want it, they’ll work to earn it,” or “I didn’t have that, so why should they?” After the initial hullabaloo, things settle down and the groups get larger, relationships improve and access widens.
There is, though, a huge challenge. It takes effort to agree to the modifications — who hasn’t lived through the process of introducing a change? And it takes dedication to stick with the new until it becomes fully accepted. For many of us, we go through the motions while internally grumbling about the effort we have to exert, and for some the grumbles are external and sometimes physical or violent. We all want to be seen as important, valuable and distinguished, and the small perquisites of status help us to feel that way. By widening access we become part of a larger group so the symbols are less unique.
Listening to the opposing voices can sometimes teach us something about ourselves. It can uncover our prejudices, motivations and beliefs. For those who are truly growing, the humility of admitting that we were wrong leads to a deeper self awareness and then to help us work towards improving life for others. The rest give the appearance of growth while seeking discord and self-aggrandizement. In school, we had limited recourse to reverse the decisions of the administration, and we had to comply, even if there were minor rebellions. As adults, more choices are open to us. We can accept that it’s “just the way it is” and shrug, or we can make the change. I can, though, state with confidence, that increased opportunity and access ultimately benefits everyone. What do you think?
Before this, there were those who would sneak into the balcony and hide from the occasional teacher who would check in on us. We might try to get an older sister, friend or cousin to take us with her, and hope that nobody would make us leave. It didn’t matter that we would still have access to the area. It certainly didn’t matter that we could enter it more than a year early. All that we could think of was that we wouldn’t be exclusive when we ascended the stairs on our own. Then came a concert, and we were sitting there with our friends from other classes, which made it all the more enjoyable.
Funny, isn’t it, how something that we craved as a privilege separated us from our friends, and how waiving that entitlement ultimately made everyone happier. I see that pattern repeated when there are discussions about access by disadvantaged groups. The arguments usually include things like, “if they really want it, they’ll work to earn it,” or “I didn’t have that, so why should they?” After the initial hullabaloo, things settle down and the groups get larger, relationships improve and access widens.
There is, though, a huge challenge. It takes effort to agree to the modifications — who hasn’t lived through the process of introducing a change? And it takes dedication to stick with the new until it becomes fully accepted. For many of us, we go through the motions while internally grumbling about the effort we have to exert, and for some the grumbles are external and sometimes physical or violent. We all want to be seen as important, valuable and distinguished, and the small perquisites of status help us to feel that way. By widening access we become part of a larger group so the symbols are less unique.
Listening to the opposing voices can sometimes teach us something about ourselves. It can uncover our prejudices, motivations and beliefs. For those who are truly growing, the humility of admitting that we were wrong leads to a deeper self awareness and then to help us work towards improving life for others. The rest give the appearance of growth while seeking discord and self-aggrandizement. In school, we had limited recourse to reverse the decisions of the administration, and we had to comply, even if there were minor rebellions. As adults, more choices are open to us. We can accept that it’s “just the way it is” and shrug, or we can make the change. I can, though, state with confidence, that increased opportunity and access ultimately benefits everyone. What do you think?
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