“…my inclinations were to the left, believing that everyone deserved equal opportunity, I didn’t know what that meant for a people with no options.” hit me pretty hard in my gut
I'd be interested to know more about this--your reaction.
The growth out of naïveté, and the hubris and certainty that so often accompany ignorance, was one of the most important lessons for me working in Madagascar. Also, of course, the recognition that we will all, always, be ignorant of some things that we can't imagine we might be ignorant of.
My main gut reaction was due to my own personal upbringing, I suppose, as I was raised by civil rights activists who in the 60s and 70s were doing everything they could to help create better options for the disadvantaged in our city. So I certainly wasn’t naïve about inequities (though I distinctly recall realizing at the far too advanced age of 10 that people actually *lived on those farms full time* that we traveled to for our apples/cider, or pumpkins, or Christmas trees, so I was certainly naïve in my own ways). And the way you lay out the retelling moved me by reminding me how easy it is to forget how many people around the world remain in oppressive situations who can hardly conceive of a better, or even just alternative, life for themselves. Traveling to faraway lands doesn’t only expand our horizons to what our lives can become, it can help us to have the theory-of-mind to see the world through another’s eyes in a palpable way.
“…my inclinations were to the left, believing that everyone deserved equal opportunity, I didn’t know what that meant for a people with no options.” hit me pretty hard in my gut
I'd be interested to know more about this--your reaction.
The growth out of naïveté, and the hubris and certainty that so often accompany ignorance, was one of the most important lessons for me working in Madagascar. Also, of course, the recognition that we will all, always, be ignorant of some things that we can't imagine we might be ignorant of.
My main gut reaction was due to my own personal upbringing, I suppose, as I was raised by civil rights activists who in the 60s and 70s were doing everything they could to help create better options for the disadvantaged in our city. So I certainly wasn’t naïve about inequities (though I distinctly recall realizing at the far too advanced age of 10 that people actually *lived on those farms full time* that we traveled to for our apples/cider, or pumpkins, or Christmas trees, so I was certainly naïve in my own ways). And the way you lay out the retelling moved me by reminding me how easy it is to forget how many people around the world remain in oppressive situations who can hardly conceive of a better, or even just alternative, life for themselves. Traveling to faraway lands doesn’t only expand our horizons to what our lives can become, it can help us to have the theory-of-mind to see the world through another’s eyes in a palpable way.
Next time those women call you dogs, you should bark or howl. Which chapter has the frogs? How big is Madagascar compared to USA?