Discrimination

I have been discriminated often by men who assume I cannot do something "boyish." When I was young, my brother and I had a lawn care service. We had thirty-five lawns we would manicure with two push mowers, a trimmer and a leaf blower. We would hitch a trailer to the back of my jeep, and often I would drive. The looks I would get from men when pulling up to a gas pump, backing the trailer into a tight spot or lifting the lawn mower on and off of the trailer was hesitant and constant, as if they didn't know whether to help or stand aside. Lawn care or labor services are associated with men, not a brother and sister operation. I read their thoughts from their looks. I wasn't supposed to be able to parallel park a trailer, nor lift a push mower on my own. According to their looks, I was in need of assistance.

I was also a Tom Boy growing up and often found myself on a football or soccer field next to the boys. I've always felt the need to prove myself in a male dominated world of athletics. I don't know whether it's just my competitive nature, but I would fight until I was noticed as a comparable athlete. I was relentless, and was subsequently known as a tough girl and good athlete. It's sad when someone feels as though they have to prove their strength when they are being discriminated against because of their gender.

Although I am quick to identify moments I have been discriminated against, I am aware of how privileged I have been. I do not feel as though I have been discriminated against daily, and unfortunately, some people in this would are. I know I have been discriminatory in the past, but a moment that stands out above the rest was when I was helping students read in a high school Language Arts classroom. The two boys I was assigned with were black and Hispanic. We were reading aloud to one another in the hall. These boys were behind in their readings and I was to help them catch up. I had assumed these students were not good readers because of their position in comparison with the rest of the class, not because of their race, although studies always associate poor performance with race and socio-economic statuses. I was soon to find out, one was terribly adept in critical reading. The book we were reading was written during the Civil Rights movements of the fifties and sixties. Because of the topic, I assumed it would be difficult for the African-American boy to discuss and read aloud. I was surprised and thankful when he was the one starting and continuing discussion. While the book was centered on racial discrimination, I was discriminating against these boys because of the fear I had as a white, privileged woman to be reading about social inequities with two minority students. I wonder as a white woman who has had it pretty well, how does one get over the fear of being an unreliable source when discussing social inequality?