Since I moved to London last summer, I've been living in an area in Hackney called Stamford Hill. If one starts to look it up, one may encounter documentary series on the Hasidic Jewish community in London. I live not just alongside them, but at the very heart of their community. This means that I see numerous synagogues, Jewish-owned shops selling groceries, kosher meat and yummy pastries, I hear beautiful hymns and chants on some evenings of the week, I hear upbeat music during their weddings and other festivities, and of course I encounter the very people that make up the community everyday. When I get lucky, I manage to catch glimpses of beautiful stacks of books and libraries inside their homes when the front doors happened to be open. I see children running around freely, because it is the community's responsibility to watch over them, even if they are not theirs. This is the benefit of living in a tight-knit community. Recently while under lockdown during the Easter weekend which also happened to be Sabbath, I caught glimpses of people sitting in front of their doors, swaying back and forth and reciting what I think were their holy verses in unison with others doing the same at safe distances. These recitations were music to my ears, and there's something about the air that reminded me of the same atmosphere where beautiful verses of Qur'an are recited.
The first time Tolu brought me to Stamford Hill was in late autumn 2018 because he wanted to show me the neighbourhood he grew up in, and also to show me Springfield Park to impress during the date. I'm not going to lie, I was what the Malays would call 'jakun' because I've never encountered any Hasidic Jew in my life; to see so many in an area was a lot to process. I tried not to be too obvious but I was observing to satisfy my curiosity, to understand their dressing and their appearance. Tolu then told me that in order to identify whether a home belongs to a Jew, there will be a block of wood plastered on their doors. I started to notice and learnt new things that I never knew before.
When I share about my area of residence and its demographics, there is a tendency for responses to be slightly on the negative and rife of Othering. There is the tendency to see them as different and strange, a community of people with irrational rituals, and to generally speak of them as suspicious subjects. This isn't about theological disputes between Muslims and Jews or even with other communities. But on this particular aspect, I can see the inner workings of prejudice. It gives me insight into how others perceive my own community and my identity. On this front, we are the same. Indeed, there were banners in Stamford Hill and on telephone booths encouraging people to report hate speech and discrimination. And guess who were depicted on them? The Hasidic Jew and the visibly Muslim female. Indeed, we are the same when it comes to this aspect.
From the way people are so quick to judge their community, I can see better why people are so quick to judge people like me who dresses differently, speaks with an ethnic accent, is visibly Muslim and coloured and whose practices, lifestyle and life choices may seem strange and irrational. Even back in Singapore, discourses on the Malay-Muslim identity are filled with unhelpful stereotypes and there is a tendency to see Malays as backward, savage, unindustrious, and so forth. And on the global stage, the Muslim is always a terrorist, without any doubt. Do people even know what a terrorist means? And if so, many crimes today can be seen as an act of terrorism, so why are there often these double standards? Isn't it so easy to develop an instant prejudice towards someone who looks, speaks, and believes differently than you? Especially when years of social conditioning cast that community in a particular way, there is so much that needs to be done to rewire that connection we make and ascribe to others, to unpack and to unlearn and relearn. This is the serious work that we need to do. Me and you are not free from prejudice.
Last week, I asked Tolu, 'So tell me honestly, who do you think you are prejudiced against?' When I asked him that question, I suddenly wondered why I had become so bold to ask such a blunt question, but I was so glad that Tolu responded positively to it. We took turns sharing on this topic and we also helped each other understand why we developed and maintained certain prejudicial leanings against a group of people or individuals. We also reminded ourselves that we shouldn't see prejudice in a linear fashion, that hate breeds hate, years of oppression and discrimination also lead to the oppressed developing similar antagonistic stance towards the dominant group, and in some unfortunate cases, to develop hate and turn against their own communities.
The most important takeaway for us is to firstly sit with ourselves and unpack these layers of prejudice we may have. I believe that many of them can be unconscious. This would take some nudging and uncovering. It is very easy for those who are familiar with the lingo of prejudice, subtle racism, condescendence and marginalisation to easily dismiss or get angry towards those who use these languages innocently and are genuinely unaware about the harm it can bring. But it also takes some part on the former group to exercise patience and explain to them. It is difficult, but it is crucial. It is also crucial for the other to listen, attempt to understand, ask questions, seek clarification and follow-up on feedback. It is important that they do not accuse the other of being 'too sensitive' because it is their lived experiences. Together, we can help each other call out unhelpful prejudiced thoughts and views, and understand why they are harmful.
I also believe that we know some our prejudices too well but we have become too arrogant to claim that we are prejudiced. There is this quiet conviction that 'we are better than them', allowing our moral righteousness to fester within ourselves. This is precisely why we live in society rife of tribalism and polarised groups, unable to dialogue and gain deeper understanding of one another. The truth is, we are more prejudiced than we think. I have spent years hearing people who have blatantly and indirectly expressed their prejudicial views about my identity, religious beliefs and ethnicity. I've spent years debating and discussing about prejudice both in everyday talk and in academia. But it's also time I work on my own views about others. It is time we all do this inner work - unfold our own prejudices, disrupt the caricature of others we created in our minds, ignore misinformation and correct them.
It isn't an easy task especially when we like to view ourselves more positively than we truly are. But I hope with radical honesty, we can address our own prejudices, start to gain understanding about others who may seem different and be kind anyway. I still hold steadfast to the belief that we are equal in humanity, but the realities reflect how far we are from achieving that. It makes me sad and angry, but I hope we can all make a difference in our little ways. I hope to still have hope that we humans are capable of reaching the lofty qualities we have inside us.
The first time Tolu brought me to Stamford Hill was in late autumn 2018 because he wanted to show me the neighbourhood he grew up in, and also to show me Springfield Park to impress during the date. I'm not going to lie, I was what the Malays would call 'jakun' because I've never encountered any Hasidic Jew in my life; to see so many in an area was a lot to process. I tried not to be too obvious but I was observing to satisfy my curiosity, to understand their dressing and their appearance. Tolu then told me that in order to identify whether a home belongs to a Jew, there will be a block of wood plastered on their doors. I started to notice and learnt new things that I never knew before.
When I share about my area of residence and its demographics, there is a tendency for responses to be slightly on the negative and rife of Othering. There is the tendency to see them as different and strange, a community of people with irrational rituals, and to generally speak of them as suspicious subjects. This isn't about theological disputes between Muslims and Jews or even with other communities. But on this particular aspect, I can see the inner workings of prejudice. It gives me insight into how others perceive my own community and my identity. On this front, we are the same. Indeed, there were banners in Stamford Hill and on telephone booths encouraging people to report hate speech and discrimination. And guess who were depicted on them? The Hasidic Jew and the visibly Muslim female. Indeed, we are the same when it comes to this aspect.
From the way people are so quick to judge their community, I can see better why people are so quick to judge people like me who dresses differently, speaks with an ethnic accent, is visibly Muslim and coloured and whose practices, lifestyle and life choices may seem strange and irrational. Even back in Singapore, discourses on the Malay-Muslim identity are filled with unhelpful stereotypes and there is a tendency to see Malays as backward, savage, unindustrious, and so forth. And on the global stage, the Muslim is always a terrorist, without any doubt. Do people even know what a terrorist means? And if so, many crimes today can be seen as an act of terrorism, so why are there often these double standards? Isn't it so easy to develop an instant prejudice towards someone who looks, speaks, and believes differently than you? Especially when years of social conditioning cast that community in a particular way, there is so much that needs to be done to rewire that connection we make and ascribe to others, to unpack and to unlearn and relearn. This is the serious work that we need to do. Me and you are not free from prejudice.
Last week, I asked Tolu, 'So tell me honestly, who do you think you are prejudiced against?' When I asked him that question, I suddenly wondered why I had become so bold to ask such a blunt question, but I was so glad that Tolu responded positively to it. We took turns sharing on this topic and we also helped each other understand why we developed and maintained certain prejudicial leanings against a group of people or individuals. We also reminded ourselves that we shouldn't see prejudice in a linear fashion, that hate breeds hate, years of oppression and discrimination also lead to the oppressed developing similar antagonistic stance towards the dominant group, and in some unfortunate cases, to develop hate and turn against their own communities.
The most important takeaway for us is to firstly sit with ourselves and unpack these layers of prejudice we may have. I believe that many of them can be unconscious. This would take some nudging and uncovering. It is very easy for those who are familiar with the lingo of prejudice, subtle racism, condescendence and marginalisation to easily dismiss or get angry towards those who use these languages innocently and are genuinely unaware about the harm it can bring. But it also takes some part on the former group to exercise patience and explain to them. It is difficult, but it is crucial. It is also crucial for the other to listen, attempt to understand, ask questions, seek clarification and follow-up on feedback. It is important that they do not accuse the other of being 'too sensitive' because it is their lived experiences. Together, we can help each other call out unhelpful prejudiced thoughts and views, and understand why they are harmful.
I also believe that we know some our prejudices too well but we have become too arrogant to claim that we are prejudiced. There is this quiet conviction that 'we are better than them', allowing our moral righteousness to fester within ourselves. This is precisely why we live in society rife of tribalism and polarised groups, unable to dialogue and gain deeper understanding of one another. The truth is, we are more prejudiced than we think. I have spent years hearing people who have blatantly and indirectly expressed their prejudicial views about my identity, religious beliefs and ethnicity. I've spent years debating and discussing about prejudice both in everyday talk and in academia. But it's also time I work on my own views about others. It is time we all do this inner work - unfold our own prejudices, disrupt the caricature of others we created in our minds, ignore misinformation and correct them.
It isn't an easy task especially when we like to view ourselves more positively than we truly are. But I hope with radical honesty, we can address our own prejudices, start to gain understanding about others who may seem different and be kind anyway. I still hold steadfast to the belief that we are equal in humanity, but the realities reflect how far we are from achieving that. It makes me sad and angry, but I hope we can all make a difference in our little ways. I hope to still have hope that we humans are capable of reaching the lofty qualities we have inside us.
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