“Genocides start with efforts to isolate and demonize the victim group: it’s a process we are referring to as “othering” the victimized group as we discuss it in the seminar. Othering makes the victimized group something strange, foreign, different, alien, misunderstood; this process breeds ignorance; and isn’t ignorance where fear comes from; and isn’t fear the soil that the roots of hatred need to take hold?” - Corey Harbaugh
I have to tell you a little bit about my experience with Corey in the last week. Those of you who know him won’t be surprised. He is a remarkable person. I’ll try not to go too far over the top, even though I can very easily.
If you had met Corey for lunch somewhere in Niles, Michigan, or in the Bronx, I don’t think you’d have any trouble recognizing his behavior toward others. It’s the same in both places. Maybe it’s even warmer in NYC than at his hometown in Michigan. I don’t know. But it amazes me.
It impresses me because he’s in a foreign place in one sense. Of course, he’s been abroad and certainly covered the country a time or two. But he’s nonetheless an outsider here in the sense that he has largely been born, bred, and lived his adult life in southwest Michigan. The Big Apple is different, full of strange people, speaking all kinds of languages, behaving and dressing differently and eating diverse foods. Transportation is different. Sounds, smells, everything really. It’s different for most of us who are visiting on this experience.
How do we meet the strange?
I think for most of us who are not children probably adopt a more cautious approach to the new. No one wants to get stung or bit by the unknown. Corey seems less concerned about himself than recognizing the humanity in everyone he meets.
Climbing up out of the subway this afternoon amid the rush of folks coming and going, clogging passageways and turnstiles, a man sneezes about 10 steps above us. Corey says, “Bless you.”
Without turning, the man mumbles a “thank you.” I heard it.
At the checkout counter at the drugstore, Corey develops a rapport with the young African-American female cashier about Bob Seger, whose song he’s been singing as he shopped for laundry detergent. “Keep on singing!” she calls like an old friend as he leaves.
“You know it,” he answers.
It’s everywhere he goes:
“Have a nice evening.”
“Have a nice day.”
I once heard a poet I can’t recall at the moment describe what he called a “personal affirmative action plan” to grow your own diverse group of friends and acquaintances. I haven’t discussed this with Corey. I think he’s just spreading some love, sharing a little love with everyone. Playing teacher and friend to the world. He also makes me think of this affirmative action idea. The objective is to diversify your portfolio of people and learn about all kinds of people. I think the idea is that you’ll broaden your appreciation and understanding of all kinds of people, personalities, cultures. The dividends may not replace any lost pension, but it may help you live a richer life, I think.
What I saw in response to his generous spirit was nine times out of ten, returned: a smile, a “Hey! How you doing?” Like friends, the conversation begins.
What a lesson in living this is. It may not stop the next genocide, but who knows what sparks of hate it might be stamping and what seeds of love it’s nurturing.
There’s a book I teach, Seedfolks, by Paul Fleischman, in about every class I’ve taught. A character named Sam lives this affirmative action plan.
