Tolerance

A Story by Lina

What it is to be tolerant from my perspective

I was always, I think, a tolerant child, but perhaps this was because I, myself, needed to be tolerated. What does it actually mean to be someone who needs to be tolerated, or to be someone who is tolerant? What is tolerance? Perhaps it has some relation to patience, some not so distant cousin that’s always pushing you not roll your eyes or make fun of someone or something that you don’t think is “right”. It’s being kind to people you’ve never met and to throw them a smile when they ask you for directions in the middle of the road. Tolerance comes easy to people who come from circumstances that aren’t tolerated! Or does it? Doesn’t the lack of tolerance that people get turn them into intolerant people... merely as a form of monkey see, monkey do? I don’t think one statement can be made. I think it’s something that’s personal, subjective... as is everything else.

One word that seems to form a repetitive nature around me, making me wonder if it forms the same repetitive nature around anyone else, “subjective”... but that in itself is subjective and personal! It’s a never ending loop! AS IS EVERYTHING ELSE!

I’m trying to think of a way that we are all connected, but, I don’t think I need to, because it just seems to be there everywhere you turn. Feelings... BAM! we all have them, we’re all connected. I’m sitting and trying to think of more connections, but I don’t think that I need them. Feelings are pretty big in themselves... AS IS EVERYTHING ELSE!

I’ve diverted.

Back again.

Tolerance. It’s the same as parenting. You either become your parents or you become the opposite. If you haven’t been tolerated, then you either become intolerant or you become tolerant because you hated the feeling that not being tolerated felt! It’s like autism. If you are around someone who clearly has autism, or some form of disability, then you either feel sorry for them, or just find them weird and what to get as far away from them as possible. I guess that’s a form of intolerance... Because you’re not finding a way to connect with them, of understanding them, of knowing what it is that they have or what they’re going through. I, myself, much prefer sympathy and empathy rather than having someone feel sorry for me or trying to avoid contact. Firm and steady, looking at you straight in the eye. That to me is tolerance. Someone who can look me straight in the eye and not just tolerate me, but try and understand me and who I am, and why I may be the way that I am. Because why are we the way that we are?