Confront, question, discuss to break down barriers

I was standing in front of the Chapel passing out fliers. I gave one to the four men who were approaching, and they asked me to read it to them. I did so, and when they heard that a Jewish group co-sponsored the advertised event, they promptly began a conversation that I still think of often a full year later.

First, they asked if I was Jewish. I said I was. They were surprised; they had never met a real live Jew before. Then they asked if I really had horns on my head. When I said no, they asked if I had gotten them surgically removed like they'd heard Jews sometimes do. Finally, they rattled off a list of inflammatory "Jewish" traits they had learned and asked to hear my opinion.

Their ignorance nauseated me, but I was somehow riveted. I realized later that I stayed because I saw through the content of what they were saying and understood why they were saying it. They weren't heckling me. They weren't being malicious. They weren't trying to degrade me. Bizarre though it may seem, they spoke sincerely and listened to me with interest. Apparently, my inquisitors viewed my heritage as a novelty of sorts to which they could compare their own views. That is why, despite my shock, I stayed.

We spoke for approximately 20 minutes. Hoping to scratch the surface of their oblivion, I asked them questions and tried to correct some of their myriad misconceptions. When it was over, I took comfort in the belief that nobody that went to Duke could ever be so ignorant . . . and that if they were, they would definitely do something about it. In the following months, however, I realized that, while many of us have understandable gaps in our knowledge, we often choose to ignore those gaps rather than take the risks of confronting our own ignorance.

We, as the Duke community, don't like to break certain barriers. While we are willing to learn from each other about life in different parts of the country or in different families, our discovery of each other stops short when our backgrounds differ in more than just geography, crossing lines of race or religion. Embarrassment about our ignorance and fear of offending others stop us on the brink of asking vital questions and effectively relegate us to a state of terminal ignorance.

To make matters worse, stumbling blocks continue to stand in the way of those who do dare to ask questions. Many people resist answering certain questions because they fear their opinions will be taken as representative of their entire group, and they grow resentful of this potential misperception. But taking offense at a well-intended--though misguided--inquiry only punishes the questioner for the ignorance he or she is trying to overcome, and often breaks down lines of communication .

This downward spiral of ignorance and resentment continues until people simply stop talking. Here at Duke, many of us have fallen into a pattern where, rather than seize upon our differences, we push them aside and consider ourselves homogeneous. In doing so, we doom ourselves to complacent ignorance.

Last year, black and Jewish organizations sponsored an unusual forum that encouraged people to ask the questions of race and religion usually considered taboo. More than 100 students showed up and immediately began throwing out scores of questions, many of which were based on little more than stereotypes, prejudices, myths and flat-out ignorance. But because the participants agreed to engage in a candid discussion, they were able to surpass the possible tensions that could have arisen from this dialogue. I attended this forum and thought of my discussion in front of the Chapel. No, no one asked if Jews have horns. But after hearing the endless series of questions that emerged, I imagined all the Duke students out there, full of questions they don't think they can ask.