I sat down at a table in Panera’s to eat a bowl of soup for lunch. The woman seated across the aisle complimented my sweatshirt. I was flattered because it’s my favorite, a farm scene at night. I immediately decided she and the man across from her must be farmers going by their clothes and suntans. I had grown up in a rural home and was familiar with the look.
Whenever we encounter someone new, we start pigeonholing them, putting them in familiar categories, but there are many differences in people. Standing on a busy, city street corner is an eyeopener to how diverse individuals are. Yet, many statics are reported by groups such as percentage of men and women or Black, Hispanic and white or those under thirty and those over sixty-five. For example, looking at my husband, Ken, a retired county deputy, and Warren Buffet, an investor and philanthropist, who were both born in the 1930s, I see various characteristics but, in a survey, they would be lumped together as old, white men.
During the feminist movement of the seventies, I argued with several guys at various parties that girls are not born knowing certain things–we are taught “women’s work.” For my generation, it began with Christmas presents of baby dolls, small brooms and toy stoves. It continued when females contemplated attending college either to become nurses or school teachers.
We each have certain innate abilities. A few guitar lessons can start a child with a musical talent strumming away. A sibling with a “tin ear” hits many sour notes.
A couple years ago our family doctor sent me to a specialist. I was unhappy with my session with the new physician because I felt he was talking to his stereotype of “a little, old lady” instead of listening to me.
Have you ever met someone who turned out to be a much different person than you had pigeonholed them to be?