To Be Tolerant


Once when I was in the 5th grade I got called to the office. With no context as to why I was needed, fear settled in. I contemplated any logical reason why I could be in trouble; there was nothing I had done wrong. I put away my notebook and headed anxiously towards the front of the school. Even though I was sure I had done nothing wrong, a feeling of disquiet set in with each step I took.
        When I arrived the school secretary notified me that I was needed in the room to the left. As I entered the office I heard a woman speaking in Spanish to one of the teachers; I was confused as to why I was here and whether I had entered the wrong room. While the teacher eagerly tried to understand the woman, I looked to the right of the room and noticed a small child, much younger than me, sitting on a chair with a confused gaze. The teacher had finally noticed my presence and made a face of relief. She then asked me, “Do you speak Spanish?” I shyly responded with a nod. She then answered, “I’ve been trying to understand what this mother has been trying to tell me but no one knows any Spanish.” The mother then looked at me with eyes of hope and began telling me she simply wanted to pick her child up early from school for an appointment. Realizing as to why I had been called, I then began translating her request to the teacher and helped facilitate their conversation to one another. That day I went home feeling proud of myself for being able to help someone out. I felt proud to be bilingual.
        That pride and joy I felt that day did not last. Though since then I have continued to help translate for others when I can, the contentment I once felt to be bilingual slowly turned into insecurity. Though I wish my tongue could move swiftly and dance with every word I say, it instead stumbles and ties with the intricate job of pronunciation.
        As I entered middle school I noticed kids became insolent and adapted the intolerant beliefs of their parents. Oh, what a slippery slope intolerance can lead to. Kids would quickly pick up on my accent and ridicule me for it. I would be mocked for the way I spoke and how I stuttered. I became so insecure that I begged my parents to sign me up for speech therapy in the 7th grade; I did not want any trace of my Hispanic heritage.
        I felt embarrassed for speaking the language from the home countries of my parents. The same language that breaks any barriers between me and my family from Latin America. The same language that allows me to communicate with thousands of more people than the average person. However, I am not the only one who has been shamed for the heritage I carry through my words.
        Today in America, intolerance has plagued our society. Minorities are harassed in stores, streets, parks, or even schools for speaking a second language. People have grown fearful of the words we speak simply because they do not understand them. They fear what they cannot comprehend and as a result, we get the short end of the stick. We get harassed and discriminated against. First, it’s our language, then what we wear, then to the color of one’s skin. It starts with something as simple as making fun of an accent but progresses to something as serious as a hate crime on the news.
        All of this is a result of the barriers we have built ourselves. Walls we have become too stubborn to tear down. It has become such a rooted hatred within our country. We are so unwilling to accept any views, any languages, other than our own because we allow this fear we have of the unknown to dominate our actions. 
        We need to do better. As a society, we must take on the individual duty to educate ourselves on the cultures and heritage of others. If we wish to eliminate the barriers that have long separated us from one another, tolerance is key. As a society, we must become tolerant of others and their beliefs in order for us to finally move forward.