Column: Racists Die Every Day
When I was seven years old, I started thinking seriously about my death. I vividly remember my brother warning me about the impending end of the world in 2012, and for the following weeks it was all I could think about. I became preoccupied with the idea that soon, I too would die. Yes, as a seven year old I thought my death would be soon. I wouldn’t be anymore. I couldn’t understand how everyone else could go around and live a life that seemed to have virtually no effect on the world as a whole with the knowledge that they would one day die.
The whole concept of death is hard for even the most enlightened adults of the world to deal with, so as a first grader it was nearly impossible for me to make any conclusions on the topic. Most of the time, when death crossed my mind, I would just try to distract myself, usually with the intellectually stimulating genius that could only be provided by the masterpiece of Spongebob Squarepants.
As time went on, I matured, and the fear that came with the concept of death dissipated, but it wasn’t until this year that I truly realized death’s value. The turning point in my understanding of death came one fateful day in APUSH. We were going over the Newsflash, discussing the idea that soon there will no longer be any Holocaust survivors left to directly share their stories. A heavy idea to think about. Mr. Johnson paused, and then a moment later shared one of the wisest statements I have heard in my long seventeen years on this planet. In the midst of the heavy silence in the room, he imparted the wisdom that “the good news is, racists die every day.”
Truer words have never been spoken. Oftentimes, we get bogged down with the idea of our own mortality, but there is certainly an upside to death. Every day, along with the elderly, old ideas die, and with them their nuanced forms of oppression that they have branded as “tradition.” The misinformed, the stubborn, the roadblocks in the path to change cease to exist. New, ethical, and more logical ideas can be presented as time goes on, but some minds just cannot be changed. New ideas would never permeate the barriers created by stubborn thinking if it weren’t for death. Death provides for progress – it allows the in-touch to become the majority.
The only true downside to death is that unlike the old racists who die each day, death does not discriminate. One could live the most pure and open-minded life and will still die. The truth of the matter is that while almost everyone has a blend of good and bad, it’s the good ideas that live on. Take Aristotle, for example. His contributions to science have long outlived his misogynistic preachings. Survival of the fittest applies not just to tangible creatures, but to ideas as well. Because of this, the ethical elders of the world can take comfort in knowing that they will not slip out of the human conscience.
The point is, death is not inherently sad or scary. There are cases in which the death of some contribute to the well-being of the masses. After all, if death didn’t exist, the world would be an overpopulated space rock where no one would be able to take a breath without unintentionally touching the person next to them. But there’s certainly more to it. Ideas would never change if it weren’t for death. Without death, Aristotle would still be around preaching to the masses that women are less than men. Death is the bouncer that finally kicks out the stubborn and handsy drunk when nobody and nothing else can get him to leave his barstool.
