Some people count their blessings. Lately, I’ve been counting my prejudices. I have several.
A prejudice is an unfair feeling of dislike or hatred toward a person or group based on race, sex, religion, or on judgments about their character, intelligence, or any of a host of other indicators.
The defining feature of a prejudice is that it is irrational. It’s rooted in some ignorant belief or other that is destructive and degrading.
Within my great duffel bag of prejudices, racial prejudice is not packed. Not even way down at the bottom. I’ve cleared it out.
I sometimes have reticence, shyness, discomfort around people of other races than my own, because I’m not sure how to behave given the cultural, attitudinal or political differences that may exist between us. I feel, rightly or wrongly, that there may be boundaries that I don’t want to trample with bravado and easy familiarity.
Those qualities are not symptoms