Overcoming The Unimportant Stuff
First published in the print column, Strictly Haresay
The Supreme Court’s recent ruling ending Affirmative Action has brought out many arguments for and against the decision, giving Americans yet another point of division, and I have read compelling points for both sides. At the end of the day though, I always lean toward policies of the non-discriminatory flavor. At some point, we just need to get on with living our lives and building the country as united citizens of America, and let the rest go.
Race and ethnicity, gender identification, sexual preference, religious affiliation, sports team loyalty, bearded or shaved clean, Ford or Chevy—they all fall in the same category as far as I’m concerned, and should have no bearing on a person’s rights and protections as guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution. I honestly have a hard time understanding how this is such a hard thing for some people to understand. Some people, but not all.
Last week while in Rapid City I decided to get a haircut. I Googled the nearest salon to me and was lucky enough to secure an appointment within the hour. I arrived at the small business, which I’d never been to before, and was greeted by the friendly stylist with a welcoming smile and immediately ushered to the chair. Her station was decorated with Native American decor, among other baubles and trinkets, and personal photos of friends, family and pets. Through the course of my appointment I learned much about the woman’s family of origin, her education and 25-year partnership, and experiences that led her to opening the salon in Rapid City. When I commented on her Native decor, she told me she was of Lakota heritage and pointed to the other stylist in the salon who was in the process of foiling up an elderly woman’s head.
“We need to get her a sombrero or a set of maracas or something for her station,” my stylist said, “she’s Mexican.”
The other stylist smiled and just shook her head.
When I asked where in Mexico her family was from, she just shrugged, saying she had no idea. She was born in South Dakota and never knew anything about her ancestors south of the border.
My stylist snorted, and made another crack about her own Native heritage, and we all laughed.
No one felt insulted. No one was triggered or traumatized. No one got mad or offended. It was a delightful exchange, the whole way around, and when I got ready to leave and my stylist gave me a big hug, I commented on how refreshing it was to converse with other people who understand how truly unimportant those personal differences are when you are able to connect with each other on a human level.
And that’s the thing I wish more people could experience and understand, if they’d just give one another the chance to prove it.
