Respect people’s differences

Being different shouldn’t be something we feel the need to hide. Yet being proud of who we are doesn’t always mean feeling safe enough to show it. What should be our strength can become the very thing others use to shut us out. 

Last week, I was talking to someone I’ve vaguely known for years. They knew I was a journalist. They knew I was divorced and had two kids. They even knew the area I lived in and where I had lived 20 years ago. But when we were chatting last weekend, they asked where I worked now, and I told them. There were a few moments of silence before they visibly jumped back and blurted out, “So, you are a Jew!” Obviously a little taken aback at this reaction, I said “yes” as if I was offering a piece of information that I had purposely hidden, which I hadn’t. 

While they went on to brush over their shock at my revelation, they had quite clearly put me into a pigeonhole with other unsavoury people – those you don’t mix with. The conversation ended fast, before I could ask what their problem was. 

I am a proud Jew and a Zionist and I have nothing to hide. If anyone wants to know my political affiliation, I am happy to discuss it. But to many in our South African society, I and we are different. To some, we are an oddity, an “other”. Many people out there don’t know many Jews and some have made clear decisions that Jews who believe in the State of Israel are genocidal maniacs and child murderers. Good news for those people, I have no murderous tendencies nor do any other Zionists I know. We simply believe that Jews have a right to live in peace in Israel, which is our biblical and historical homeland. And judging by the hatred being spewed at Jews the world over, I stand by that even more. Israel is our superstrength, our Kryptonite. 

However, being different from the norm is often like running up a cliff. It is often extremely difficult when faced with people who look at your “difference” as if you are evil, bad, subversive, or even a criminal. For this reason, Jews often feel safer and more comfortable with their own. In truth, since 7 October, I have definitely found that to be true, not least that some of those I thought were “friends” in my industry don’t really want to have to deal with me. What have I done wrong? I am openly a Zionist in a time when this is unacceptable to many. 

What stayed with me was how quickly a person can become a label. And it left me with an uncomfortable question: when someone reveals a difference we didn’t expect, do we always offer the acceptance we want for ourselves? 

The truth is we are all different. Some of us have parts of our lives, or histories, we’d rather not share. That is okay. Keeping something private is not, in itself, evidence of wrongdoing. We remain responsible for any harm we cause, but we don’t owe everyone an account of every part of our lives – whatever social media may sometimes lead us to believe. 

If you are a respectable, respectful businessperson who may have an alternative lifestyle, that is your choice and right. It doesn’t mean that anyone has the right to look down their nose at you or dismiss you in your career for this. If you are part of the LGBTQ+ community, what you do for a living should have no bearing on that, or vice versa. 

There is someone I know who died earlier this year. He was extremely smart, talented, thoughtful, and respected for his work. However, he may have had a secret that he didn’t share publicly. 

Nothing about this should alter how all the people who’ve respected him and held him in high esteem feel about him. It is nobody’s business but his, and shouldn’t in any way demean him. 

In the same way as we despise people who look down at us as Jews, we dare not do the same to people who are different and have secrets they never wished to share. That isn’t who we are and not who we want to be. 

Some people avoid telling colleagues they are Jewish because they fear it will affect how they are treated and their careers. We shouldn’t mistake that caution for shame. They have a right to decide what to share, and we should respect that decision. I don’t live in their shoes. I don’t get to decide what they should or shouldn’t disclose. 

While I believe it is so sad that anyone feels they have to hide who they are because they are afraid of people’s reaction, I understand it. 

In the same way as some gay people choose not to make their sexual preferences known publicly. Again, it is heartbreaking that anyone has to hide something intrinsic to who they are, but it is their right. 

Some people keep private the fact that they don’t have a tertiary education or that they have learning difficulties. That need not be an invitation to scrutiny or judgement. Keeping something personal to yourself isn’t the same as misleading someone about a qualification you need for a job. 

I want to live in a world where we don’t feel the need to hide anything because we are afraid of others’ reactions to us. I want to live in a world where the term “unity in diversity” is our lived experience. The truth is people’s differences make them interesting. As Jews, we have a lot to teach others. In the same way as a Muslim person has a lot to teach us, if we fully accept their difference. 

Our Constitution recognises dignity and privacy as rights, not favours. Yet there is a distance between having those rights on paper and feeling safe enough to live openly. 

Accepting someone’s difference doesn’t mean you have to live their lives. It means respecting their dignity, even when you don’t understand every part of their life. That is the acceptance we ask of others. We must be willing to offer it, too. 

Shabbat Shalom! 

Peta Krost 

Editor