The beginning - Stigmatization

Disclaimer: Firstly, I understand and acknowledge that there are others out there who has gone through much rougher times than I have had. Given the context of society, we do not care about others as we dwell on our own plight, and even more so, even if we speak out, there would be no voice to answer to us nor reassure us. Hence, all we do is bottle it up in us. But even so, I wish to speak my mind, having struggled with finding a direction for the past five years or more, and hopefully, it won't be mine alone.

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A week.
This was how long I spent trying to think of how I would start off this blog.

I'm really a very average person; I don't chase the fashion nor any thing that's new until 'New' has become 'Very Old'. In the modern day context, any thing may be passe by just a day or two, as this is how the pace of the concrete jungle goes. All my life, I have lived in this jungle, though ironically, nothing of it screams nature. True, we have trees, plants, flowers and birds etc, but even all this doesn't seem to say 'jungle'.

All through my life up till this day, I often wonder why stigmatization occurs. We educate the children and hope they grow up to be harmonious and friendly to all, not restricted to their race, religion or culture. We tell the young we are all the same, but in reality, we tell ourselves we are not. How many of us look at others, and give them a name because they are of a different color, a different race or a different culture? How many of us give labels and stereotypical views towards others who are different from us? And even within the same culture, religion, race etc, how many of us call scorn at others?

I'll start off from my childhood. My cousin and I are of the same age, though I am older by no more than two months plus. We went to the same kindergarten, though that was only because both her parents were working, and the kindergarten was near my paternal grandparents' place. I grew up with a lot of comparisons and favouritism; any trouble caused by her, is my fault. Even if she gets hurt by herself, I must be blamed, for no rhyme or reason as if I was the one who pushed her down. My brother nor other cousins would get blamed though because they are all boys, and in my culture, grandsons are preferred over than granddaughters, with the exception of this cousin of mine because she was the daughter of my grandmother's favourite daughter.

I'd enrolled in a neighbourhood primary school when I was seven, though my cousin enrolled in one of those 'good schools'. Till this date, I still loved my primary school, even if my memories of it can't be reflected off how it is to show what I enjoyed of it. You see, times have changed, and the original building and all it's surroundings have changed 'for the better'. New buildings, new environment, new everything are what the pupils of that school are going through, as like per almost everything there is to this country.

My cousin's parents never liked the neighbourhood. Rowdy, rude, uncoth...These were what they thought of of the neighbourhood schools. 'The environment of the school would make one civilised and groomed to be the leaders of tomorrow', they said, and all from the neighbourhood schools are to be shunned at. Throughout my time in primary school, other than the times she threw birthday parties or needed help for her homework, it was seen that keeping your distance away from people not in a 'good school' as the norm for being a 'proper civilised person' to do.

Because my parents worked, my brother and I are made to go over to my grandparents place in the morning before school or in the years to come, in the evenings after school. I never really felt welcomed there, because it was always about money when I was there. Whereas when my cousins stay over, money was never an issue, but when we were there, turning on the fan meant money, eating meant money and basically, money was never ever enough so long as we are there. By the age of eleven, I had pleaded my mum to allow me to return to the empy home or go to school from home even though she was reluctant. But prior to that, I either went to school really early or played at the playground next to it after school to avoid spending much time at my grandparents' house.

My old school was a place full of nature; full of trees, plants and cats. I would spend most of my childhood afternoons sitting and playing under the trees, catching earthworms, spiders, worms, caterpillars and what-nots there. Life was carefree, pity though children nowadays cannot enjoy these. There were fruit trees at the back of the building, and when it was ripe, the caretaker would pluck them down and offer to anyone who's around there. Who cared about how some weird mutation of some bacteria may be in the fruits and one can die from eating it? It was a fairly simple life, which I adore till now. Everyone was friends with each other.

Being a neighbourhood school, this was great, for being kids, segregation was never really a problem. We had friends of different race, religion or culture and it really didn't matter. Sadly, as we grow older, we would then start to be stereotypical, and then be a clique with those who are similar to us only majority of the time, feeling that others who are different, are inferior to us. It is ironic, that we allowed such a stigma to grow with us over time, and forgetting the past that we really had. The main question then lies, "Where did this stigmatization come from in the first place?"

Given the context of the school system, despite having all starting off on the same level, students would come to a point in their life where they are sorted into different streams based on their learning abilities. It truly intrigued me at that point in time, how it would be like to be in a class classified to be 'at the lower end of the spectrum'. In time to come, I would experience something like that, but that would be for the entries to come later on.

I can't remember who it was that told me that the 'end classes' were all 'hopeless', but what I can remember was I befriended them. I don't remember how it happened, but I know I enjoyed their company alot. When we had study breaks, I would go over to their classes downstairs and have a chat with them or two. (The reason why they weren't on our level was because classrooms were limited on the top floor, having only seven while the lower floors had an average of ten).

Ask me now who do I trust, my answer to you would probably be 'no one', but ask me then, my answer would be 'any one'. You see, in present day, when one gets bullied, no one will stand up for you, and you have to stand up for yourself. But times were different then. There used to be a playground bully, who would hurl stones and such at anyone and everyone. I was a victim once, until my friends (who were younger than the bully), chased him on bikes, shouting and hurling stones in retort. Were they 'no good'? 'Hopeless'? To me, no. They aren't. Not that using violence was a good way to retort back, but rather them being there, was the key. Would you stand up against someone in today's context? A majority of us would only keep quiet and never say anything in return nor defend ourselves.

Of course, I cannot deny my brother's help too, when there was another time the bully came at point blank to hurl stones at me when he threw both his bags at the bully to chase him while shouting. [The interesting point to note here would be that my aunt (who stays with my grandparents) was always present, but she never intervened]

So now then, back to the question of the supposed lower end. Were they really hopeless? Honestly, I don't think so, but given society's point of view, we end up instilling the thought so deep in us, irregardless of age, that so long as you end up there, you are good-for-nothing. Even in the teachers, even though it was slight, whether intentional or not, somehow there was the slight resignation that nothing can be done, much less that can be said about the feelings of the students. It causes me to ponder, what good was it in creating such a stigmatization, when all it does is demoralize everyone and making something as foolish as 'incapable' being an accepted fact? Still, I can't deny that there are teachers who go all out to help. What good, really, is there to cause people to dislike each other, condemn one another and accept untrue facts? Why are we diminishing hopes, and not even helping them majority of the time?

Again, the question boils down to, "Where did the stigmatization come from?"

Is it nature, or nurture?

And what do we really want our children to learn? If since young, what is being practised, is not what was preached? How can we even teach, if we do not adhere to what we say? From gender to the equality of all, are we really civilised?

What then, is 'civilised' if we only looked at people through 'stained-glass'?
We are no better, if not worse off, than the very first man that walk the earth, in being civilised.