I usually love where I live. It’s quiet, slow-paced, and people are generally very friendly. However, once in a while I come across someone who just doesn’t “get” me, someone who, for whatever reason, feels it necessary to take it upon themselves to poke at me like I’m a bizarre insect, to prod into my cage with their pointy stick until they elicit the behavior they seem to feel I should have displayed at the outright, the behavior they have assigned to individuals with my appearance.
Steve did a great post a while ago on stereotypes in writing, and their necessity. As art echoes life, I understand the need for stereotypes in society, for neat little boxes to insert people into so that they may be understood better: athletic; beautiful; nerdy; normal; devil worshipper. You know, all the usuals. I understand that without the means to sort and categorize the world around us, humanity would lose much of its ability to function. Boxes have a purpose. They help keep our minds from overloading. I get that. I just wish we all could follow basic kindergarten rules and be nice and keep our sorting mechanisms to ourselves.
To the charming lady I ran into in the store yesterday, here’s an educational video to help you out. Enjoy.
(Bad words here, kiddies… Get Mom and Dad’s permission before clicking. Or just don’t tell them I was the one who taught you how to say them)