Duck, duck, goose

Do you remember playing this game where one child walks on the outside of a circle of children sitting on the ground, tapping each on the head saying "Duck" until finally saying "Goose" and then running around the circle? The 'goosed' kid has to get up and chase, hoping to get back to their empty spot before the 'gooser' takes it. Whoever is left standing starts the process all over again.

I hated that game. As someone who felt like a goose in a duck world, I did not appreciate when that was brought to everyone's attention. It didn't matter to me at the time that the game can help teach all children that exclusion is a reality, that there is often an odd man out and that, at times, we are all that person. 

It's hard to be the outsider. It's hard when we don't understand why we are being left out. It's hard when we realize the why and that the reason is beyond our control or is based on unfair or unrealistic criteria, like the color of our skin, other appearance characteristics, the dollars in our bank accounts, our address, education, accent or belief system.

I had started writing this before the events of Friday night in Paris. Before lives and a nation were changed. Before we all experienced a collective fear, a joint rage and a common confusion about how such things can happen, how anyone can think that such acts are justified. These terrorists whose extreme ideologies negate a personal connection to the rest of humanity, deliberately divide the world into ducks and geese.

As we watched with horror that evening, I turned to PBS Newshour. That program incorporated updates on the tragedy in France along with their prescheduled segments. So, in the midst of hearing of hostages and updates on the number of casualties, there was an interview with an expert on the topic of microaggression. Now, I work in microlending and therefore am accustomed to incorporating micro into my language, but this was a whole new use of the prefix. Microaggression is the casual degradation of any socially marginalized group. As I listened and learned, I realized how real it is on a daily basis and that I've been a unknowing perpetrator, making others feel like a goose.

How? The professor gave the reporter a personal example and showed how subtle microaggression is and how it often occurs unintentionally. He described the common social setting where a new acquaintance asks a non-white American where they are from and doesn't accept the answer of "Portland." They press with a follow up question of, "No, I mean where were you born?" and get confused or even belligerent when the answer is still the same. The underlying message is if you don't look like me then you can't be American. Microaggression is an unexamined part of a world view that has minorities, like students in Missouri or actresses in Hollywood, saying that there is still prejudice despite good strides.  (You can read a very public example of Joe Biden and Barack Obama if you go to wikipedia to further understand the topic.)

Being introduced to microaggression in the midst of reports on a terrorist attack was a startling juxtaposition about inclusion and exclusion. Better philosophers, theologians, diplomats and historians than I can discuss the evolution of extreme groups and attack tactics. They can theorize and strategize the big picture. All I know is that those who constantly feel like a goose in a duck world are vulnerable and susceptible to any welcoming message. Beyond that I can't begin to understand the powers at play here, but do understand that I can play a small part in my corner of the world. I can be more aware of the ducks and geese around me. I can search for common ground and seek ways to honor differences so we all - ducks and geese - can swim in the pond of life without fear. Perhaps you can pledge to do the same, regardless of the feathers you wear, and together we will make a difference.

Marilyn