It’s wrong to judge a book by its cover isn’t it? But we all do it sometimes, in our haste. To judge someone for the colour of their skin has to be wrong. We’re all capable of racism, whatever colour we are. It doesn’t stop at skin, though. All through my school life, I was judged by some of my village peers because I didn’t speak with the same accent as them. I was hurt because I didn’t understand why they did that and with cruel words too. My mother helped me not to be ashamed of who I was and to speak my mind regardless. I thank her for giving me the strength of character to fight my own battles and not be bullied. I never judged my classmates by the way they spoke, nor for what church they attended but I had a mind of my own and was not afraid to voice my beliefs in public regardless of how they judged me. I said what I thought but without using words to hurt or ridicule others for their ideas.
Growing older, mixing in wider society, I found that I was judged on the basis of what part of the country I came from, what school and university I went to, what job I did, what gender I am, what sort of home I live in, what car I drive, how much I spend on my clothes, what sort of food I eat, who I spend time with and what political party I might choose to support. I lived abroad for two decades outside the pale of modern civilisation where, because of my country of origin, I was judged by a completely different set of rules and often made to feel unwelcome. I returned in middle age to my birth country. I now entered a world of technology I didn’t understand and had to learn quickly how to resist fear of judgement by others on social media. Instead of being so ready to judge others, we should take a little time to get to know them better, even if we can, to live the same lives they do, so we can better understand them.