Inclusion Vs. Exclusion: It's All Around You, and You Don't Even Know It

The cold is taking over the senses; the jacket blockading frigid winds from behind is doing little to help. The dark skies foretell of more dangerous weather. And during this time, all of those people, the ones you wish you could be friends with, are sitting inside, enjoying the fire, oblivious to the current predicament for someone right outside their window. The laughing, the warmth..."so close, and yet so far" never meant so much before. Finally, after an obsessive knocking on the window, you're let inside, shown the refreshments...and then left alone by the punch bowl. Sure, it's warmer in here, but the temperature is doing nothing to help with the lingering cool wafting your way. This is a simple metaphor to explain what being excluded may feel like sometimes; while it is certainly not life threatening, the cold shoulder can feel extremely hurtful, and when a person finally does gain access to a group, many times they are still excluded. Why do people welcome some people and patronize others? Why is it so easy to be excluded from one's surroundings? If we had all the answers, perhaps many travesties could have been avoided.

My time in middle school was, for lack of a better term, absolute hell. It wasn't because I was a Baptist attending a Catholic school, though it could have been a premise for what was to come. Sporting a haircut not unlike what Pee Wee Herman had on television, and, with an almost pasty complexion that complained of too many video games, I headed into the whirlwind of social drama we refer to as the middle grades. These two years were the worst of my life to date; being excluded from every group of friends and seemingly shunned when I walked through every doorway, the only solace was in three people who were not afraid to step out of their respective cliques and hang out. People would come up from behind me and try to rip out my "Tech Deck Ramp" hair; others would shove me around because I was so scrawny. The rest either ignored what was going on or didn't acknowledge my existence. The point of this story is not sympathy; instead, I share it to raise questions. What caused such a reaction from others my age? Many of them had grown up together, going to the same private elementary school, whereas I hailed from a public school a half hour away on the opposite side of town. But not everyone was from the same school. Could there have been a massive difference is what was deemed acceptable and what I was? Perhaps; many other kids were beginning to mold themselves to the stereotypical "preppy," with the I-am-richer-than-you mindset that helps them separate themselves from the rest of the world. After all, wasn't that why private school was originally created, so the rich white folks could stay away from integration? My family has never been rich. In fact, there were two reasons why I went: The public middle school I was zoned for was practically a gang center, and my father taught at the private school, giving us a major discount on tuition. But I never let others know our financial position, because nobody ever spoke to me long enough to care. Was it just my social awkwardness? Maybe, but everyone at that age has their moments. The fact is, there may be no good reason, except I fit the bill as a geek, and in a time when social placement becomes a premium, I didn't realize the importance of how I was viewed and was cast aside.

Perhaps the answers to the aforementioned questions can be found in other stories. In the novel Purple Hibiscus, Kambili and Jaja are secluded from the rest of their community by their father, Eugene. He is beloved by the community for his generosity and willingness to help others, yet he continues to keep his children away from life outside the walls of his home, simply because he thought his family better than them. Eugene was a one-dimensional thinker in many ways; it seemed to either be his way, or you'll pay until you "come to the light." However, this environment Kambili was forced to grow in affected her at school and at her aunt's. Because the other girls were "evil" or deemed sacrilegious by her father, Kambili was afraid of what consequences could come about if she spoke with them; instead, she secluded herself and became an outcast. The same was true even when Eugene was not around; the religious views were radically different in her aunt's village, incorporating what Kambili's father would refer to as pagan gods. This is emphasized when, upon her return (the first time) to Eugene's domain, Kambili was brought under interrogation in reference to the devilish ways: "Did you eat any of the native foods sacrificed to idols?" "No, Father" (Adichie 108). Kambili was meant to be excluded from the normal culture surrounding her, because of her father. Like my time in middle school, she became a castaway from the new-found cliques because she didn't know better.

The impact of a person in power not listening to "underlings" can be far-reaching; for Kambili, it was a lack of communication with the outside world, neglecting her social and cultural development in addition to excluding her from life in general. I was subjected to ridicule and loneliness because the power-that-be, the other kids, deemed me unfit to be associated with. The truth is, sometimes what is wanted is not given; a great example of this is the current bowl match-ups in college football. The system in place has a number of bowls that have tie-ins to specific conferences; for example, the Chic-fil-A Bowl pits the #3 or #4 team from the SEC and ACC against one another. The problem is, the best possible games are not produced. This year alone, there are games pitting perennial powers against undermanned opponents, such as USC-Illinois; USC has won 3 national championships in the past 5 years, but Illinois is in their first major bowl game ever, and they stand no chance in the Rose Bowl. Meanwhile, other games have an ACC Championship game participant against the #8 school from a weak conference, and two games are rematches of blowouts earlier this season.

The bowl directors choose who to invite to their respective bowls, but it is almost always determined by the previously mentioned tie-ins and factors such as strength of fan base, their willingness to travel, and proximity to bowl location; the fans, as a result, are not getting the best possible game to watch, simply because the people in authority decide otherwise. Everyone loses; the highly-rated team doesn't get a chance to prove itself one last time, the coaches are berated for being chosen for a lesser bowl than they expected, and the fans don't get the entertainment we are paying for. Thus, everyone not involved in the selection process becomes unhappy because they feel excluded from the proceedings, just like Kambili and I felt after being excluded from our surroundings.
Removing people from events that impact them can have major consequences; the ruling monarchies in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries found that out the hard way, when the working class, tired of being excluded from political affairs and having to pay abnormally large taxes, revolted. Germany, after World War I, was the kid sitting in the hall while others determined their fate at the Paris Peace Conference. The resentment built up after Article 231 was introduced, which blamed Germany for the entire conflict, coupled with already sad state of the economy, led to perfect conditions for Adolf Hitler's rise to power, whose power-hungry goals eventually caused the greatest conflict the world has known. If only the negotiators had paid attention the signing of the Treaty of Paris in 1815, which ended Napoleon's reign, they could have avoided this screw-up; although France was the loser, the French foreign minister Talleyrand was involved throughout all treaty proceedings, and the agreement was signed by all parties willingly. Thus, the resentment evident in Germany after WWI was virtually non-existent in France, and further conflict was avoided. Because they were included, France had no problems to complain of, at least about the terms of the treaty. Imagine if Kambili had come to a mutual agreement with her father to her seclusion; she probably wouldn't have gone behind her father's back to reach out to the social opportunities available. If the fans were involved in the bowl selection process, we could have games between traditional superpowers that have never faced off, and much more entertainment (for those who care), instead of mundane match-ups that cause people like me to complain.

Sometimes, however, people want to become excluded for a time, like Chris McCandless who decided to trek into the Alaskan wilderness with just the essentials, trying to escape from his modernized world and live as if he was 50 years in the past. As Jon Krakauer tells us, "The boy could hardly contain his excitement. He was, at long last, about to be alone in the vast Alaska wilds" (Krakauer 289). Chris was initially enthusiastic about his journey, but reality quickly hit when he found killing animals wasn't the easiest thing to do. His journey had highs and lows, as evidenced from his journal entries: An unusual thaw revealed a large mass of berries he could eat, and he stumbled across an old bus that other trekkers had used for shelter. However, when he takes down a moose, because he could not use it all, it became "one of the greatest regrets of my life" (Krakauer 293). Near the end of his journey, the effect of seclusion perhaps is taking over, as he is looking forward to swapping stories over a drink in town. He also marks an ironic passage in Tolstoy's "Family Happiness" in which Tolstoy realizes being useful to others in what brings about contentment. McCandless writes a note saying Tolstoy was right (Krakauer 295); perhaps the ultimate lesson learned on his trip was not how amazing the wilderness could be, but how important other people are to a person's fulfillment.

McCandless was considered an outsider in Alaska, just a fresh kid with unrealistic dreams, who knew what he wanted and how to get it. But even he realized how social interaction fit into the equation of a productive life; the saying "You don't realize what you had until it's gone" seems to apply. In the same way, I was pumped about starting middle school, a fresh start in some ways, but that rapidly turned to fear at my failure of making friends. Because of my ineptitude with establishing connections with others, I was unhappy. We both had to survive adverse conditions, and although my situation seemed life-threatening at the time, it was nothing compared to the danger of the wilderness. In addition, we both had issues of separation from our parents; he rid himself of his life-givers as he became disgusted with them, I was entering adolescence and beginning the rebellious stage of my life. McCandless began to realize as his adventure went on, just like Kambili, that the joy of conversation is a greatly underappreciated commodity and the feeling of inclusion is a warm and welcome feeling. Even though one was forced into exclusion and the other welcomed it, they both looked forward to times when they could be immersed in a group setting and enjoy speaking with others because of their exclusion.

The unfortunate truth is people can be included or not because of race or religion; what is scary, however, is how people may be excluded simply because they're there. Take, for instance, the community of Farmingville, New York. When an estimated 1,500 Latino immigrants took up residence in Farmingville, an instantly the town changed. Have you ever seen those "A House Divided" front license plates on cars, symbolizing two different sports teams allegiances? Here's a moneymaking opportunity: "A Town Divided" line of merchandise. In the once-obscure town, it seems everyone is either of the same mindset or a polar opposite his/her neighbors. Farmingville is a documentary of the community reaction to the infusion of Latinos into the community. Their reception was been mixed; workers standing on street corners can be viewed as cheap labor or eyes watching someone's daughter walking home. At the city council meeting, members were to vote on a proposed building where a company would help the immigrants find jobs; because the biggest issue was having immigrants stand on street corners looking for work, this would resolve a hot issue and benefit the immigrants. However, the proposal was voted down; a councilman during the debates said, "You [dissenting members of the council] say you're so opposed to this idea, yet this is the only one on the table" (Farmingville). Confusion and chaos reign in this small town, because those who don't want the immigrants around have no viable solution to the problem, but they keep fighting suggestions that will keep the minority "problem" off the streets. The issue is not that those in power are not listening to the majority, but there is no discernible popular opinion.

Why is a small town so divided over this one issue? Is it because the immigrants are so different, the knee jerk reaction is to exclude them from the established lifestyles, similar to what I faced in middle school? Some must think so, because the immigrants have become targets of brutal violence, including firebombing and murder. But others are choosing to help them gain admission into the society and workforce. It is here, in Farmingville, New York, that both inclusion and exclusion have taken place, splintering a once-unified community and leaving tensions high between those in power and the people represented.
Being included is not defined solely to a political or social aspect; Afghanistan is an example of how exclusion affects entire lives. Ethnic violence is not uncommon, and the only way to survive such a battleground is to ally oneself with a warlord who offers protection. The Pashtuns are currently being persecuted for previously being favored by the Taliban regime, and are now being forced to look for protection. Land is being taken from the Pashtuns, and often because there is little documentation, upon return the Pashtuns find they have nothing left. Reports of targeted police attacks are rampant, and although the reality is the vast majority of Pashtuns do not feel the immediate effects of this discrimination, they do experience a "common sense of alienation" (Simonsen 719). Why is it when a member of their ethnicity is unfairly treated, they all feel threatened? Have the Pashtuns found inclusion in their own group through the exclusion of the group from others? The Pashtuns have a lot in common with my classmates; Courtney Manson experienced exclusion when she told her best friends she's be going to a private school; Jessica Moon confronted her friends about their motto of "drinking equals good times" because they conflicted with her own, and instead of an acceptance of different standards she was cut out. However, the exact opposite can be true-exclusion can be found through inclusion; just ask Brandon Williams, the only religious person in a group of seven people just looking for friendship at the start of this semester. Now, they still hang out, but there is always this awkwardness whenever somebody wants to make a Christianity-themed joke because of Brandon's beliefs, although his sense of humor normally would not take offense.

The question, then, should be this: What does it take to fully include somebody? The answer varies depending on the situation, academic or social. However, for kids with disabilities, the fight in continuous, no matter what setting; I can't truthfully claim I see somebody my age in a wheelchair and view them as an equal, at least initially. Schools use programs that try to put disabled children on equal terms with "normal" kids. Coral Kemp and Mark Carter examine the results of a test, when 24 disabled students were placed in regular classes for over a year. The results? It's a struggle for them; standardized test scores were generally lower, and teachers viewed them as needing extra help. On a survey of 19 teachers involved, no more than 4 ever described a disabled student as equal or better than their average peer in 7 categories ranging from handwriting to reading comprehension (Kemp 137).

The band Disciple may have an anthem for those that have been excluded at some point in their lives in the song "Go Ahead": "I feel the poison cutting through me, spreads like a cancer all over me. Could it be that you're so insecure that you had to curse me?" The truth is, maybe they have it right; it's only natural to become defensive when something makes you uncomfortable. From the French and British at the Paris Peace Conference to the classroom with a handicapped child, the reaction is the same-exclude the problem. Even if someone desires to get away for a while, it's only a matter of time before the need for interaction arises. Exclusion is everywhere, driven by people who don't know a better option. Ignorance may be bliss for some, but when the ignorant take action, people are hurt thanks to an inability to accept another's unique characteristics. What does this say for America in general? It may be a melting pot, but ignorance doesn't mix well.

Works Cited:

Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. Purple Hibiscus. New York: Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill. 2003.

Krakauer, Jon. "Into the Wild." The New Humanities Reader. Ed. Richard E. Miller. 2nd ed. Boston: Houghton. 2006. 286-306.

Farmingville. Dir. Carlos Sandoval and Catherine Tambini. Documentary. P.O.V., 2004.

Kemp, Coral, and Mark Carter. "The Contribution of Academic Skills to the Successful Inclusion of Children with Disabilities." Journal of Developmental and Physical Disabilities. 18.2. June 2006: 123-147. Academic Search Complete. EBSCOhost. 6 Dec. 2007

Simonsen, Sven Gunnar. "Ethnicising Afghanistan?: inclusion and exclusion in post-Bonn institution building." Third World Quarterly 25.4. June 2004: 707-729. Sociological Collection. EBSCOhost. 4 Dec. 2007