Check out columnist Saralee Perel with your library card
Beginning at 10 a.m. on July 14, you can take me out on loan from the Osterville Village Library.
The Human Library originated in Denmark in 2000 and is now a global phenomenon in over 85 countries. It is a profound, immersive experience where various distinctive people are designated as books. Patrons can read the numerous (about 16) books’ synopses, and then borrow (for around 30 minutes) the book/person they want to read/talk to. More info is at: www.ostervillefreelibrary.org/. Just look under Programs.
When Cyndy Cotton, the library’s Executive Director, encouraged me to be a book, she flattered me immensely by saying, “We would be beyond honored to have you as a book.”
“Me?” I said. “Trust me; there’s nothing special lurking in my soul’s hallways.”
She said, “People know you from your Cape Cod Times columns. You would be a great book. You’re a disabled person with a spinal cord injury and you’re a 24/7 caregiver for your husband.”
You may know that my husband, Bob, has dementia and needs me around the clock.
She added, “As someone who worked in hospice, I know caregiving is the most challenging job on earth. I can’t imagine being a disabled caregiver. You have a powerful story that people can learn from.”
And so, "Disabled Caregiver" is my book’s title. Other titles include: "Tattooed, Nonagenarian" (I had to look that up too; it’s someone in their nineties), "Cult Survivor," "Black Advocate Mom" and lots more.
Three years ago, I came to the library’s Human Library not as a book, but as a reader. Like this year, many of the books were about discrimination and intolerance. Readers are encouraged to ask probing questions, and the books/people come ready and willing to speak with ruthless honesty.
I borrowed two books. One was titled: "A Jordanian Princess," who’s Nsreen Alkhatib. The other: "An African American Policeman"; that’s Brian Morrison ― who I describe as Cape Cod’s one-person social justice army.
Nsreen, a tall gorgeous woman, as you can see in the picture, scared the heck out of me. She has a passionate fierceness about her. I was too intimidated to open my mouth. You see, she has a look about her that says, “Just try to take advantage of me. Just you try.”
When I forced myself to talk with her, I was startled to find a sweet, vulnerable, even shy young woman.
See how first impressions can be so wrong? And that, in a nutshell, is the purpose of the Human Library. On the website: www.humanlibrary.org, it reads: “A chance to unjudge someone.”
My police officer, Brian, said he wants others to, “see past the badge, past my skin color.”
Yet, there was not a moment when I saw past the color of his skin.
Nsreen adheres to a Muslim tradition of wearing clothing that covers her body and head. There was not a moment when I saw past her hijab (head covering).
When I mention Nsreen, I call her my Muslim friend. But when I talk about Marilee, I never call her my Caucasian friend. I don’t call Catherine my Christian friend. You see my latent prejudice there?
The first thing I see in a person is how they are different from me (in whatever cockamamie way I decide makes them different). Could there ever be a time when I see past peoples’ differences and only see their humanity? What’s taking place on the 14th gives rise to that rare opportunity.
My Jewish parents, who frequently spoke Yiddish, always had housekeepers. But they were never referred to by their names. Instead, my folks called all housekeepers, “the schvartza,” a derogatory term, which is from the German word for black.
So, African Americans were on their “different” list, as well as anyone who wasn’t Jewish. When my Christian girlfriend, Sandy, once took a bath in my parents’ bathroom, my mother then got on her hands and knees and scrubbed the heck out of that bathtub.
It stands to reason that I too would have the same biases that my parents did. However, I believe that regardless of my upbringing, I am responsible for the choices I make and the opinions I hold. How we were raised certainly has a big influence on our ways of thinking, but ultimately our choices are up to us.
At the Human Library, it is our duty to bring our tainted biases from the unconscious to the conscious. To learn of our inner presumptions about skin color, religion, age, gender, oh you name it. Only when we bring our attitudes to our attention and boldly realize what we’re really thinking, can we go about choosing to change. If we don’t acknowledge we’re, let’s say racist (if we are) then how could we possibly make a deliberate effort to change that?
And that is why I call the Human Library a powerful, transformative experience. By asking questions, not only do we learn how others think and feel, we learn how we do. And I promise you that for the rest of your life, you will never again judge a book by its cover.
Award-winning columnist, Saralee Perel, lives in Marstons Mills. She can be reached at sperel@saraleeperel.com or Facebook. Her column runs the first Friday of every month.
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This article originally appeared on Cape Cod Times: Columnist Saralee Perel takes part in Osterville's human library
