When reading copious amounts of writing by Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., some quotes just stick with you.
“I am convinced that for practical as well as moral reasons, non-violence offers the only road to freedom for my people,” is one powerful quote that you aren’t likely to forget, (“Nonviolence: The Only Road to Freedom,” 1966).
What can a little white Jewish girl like me have to say about such a powerful writer, inspirational speaker, and brilliant man as King?
What can I, who have never known a struggle even close to the monumental struggle King championed for non-violence, possibly add to a discussion about non-violence? Let me tell you.
As one of seven Jews in a school of 1,600 students, it never crossed my mind that I would be bullied because of my religion. Then, during my sophomore year, someone graffitied my locker.
No stranger to high school, I assumed that it was a mindless prank, and I put up stickers to cover the ugly word. The next day, I arrived at school to discover crosses drawn on my Hello-Kitty stickers, accompanied by the words “Jew Mad?”
This kind of thing doesn’t happen in high school anymore, and it sure doesn’t happen at Rufus King High School. It sucked away some of my hope in humanity.
In my situation, I didn’t use violence because I couldn’t. I had no idea who did it, and no motivation to fight even if I knew who it was.
But when King advocates for non-violence, he has to convince people that can and will use violence to love instead.
When he writes: “Through violence you may murder a murderer but you can’t murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar but you can’t establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can’t murder hate. Darkness cannot put out darkness. Only light can do that,” he doesn’t mean it lightly.
Only through trust, emotional appeals, and logic can King convince his audience that non-violence is the only way.
Instead of installing a surveillance camera above my locker, I initiated a series of interfaith events at Rufus King. Instead of hiring a squad of students to beat up whoever wrote on my locker, I chose to continue a tradition at King that is still thriving today.
Through these interfaith events, I have taught about Judaism, and learned about Islam and Christianity. I have listened to speakers on tolerance, and spoken myself about intolerance.
We have done art projects, creative responses, and help numerous discussions about what makes interfaith work tick. I spread love of other religions instead of spreading mindless hate for whoever did this to me.
The graffiti was cleaned off my locker, and I have heard nothing further from this mysterious anti-Semite, but King’s fight wasn’t as easy as mine was. He died long before the fight for racial equality ended, and some argue that it is not over today.
I know that someone writing “bitch” on my locker is nothing compared to the ordeal that King went through, and is completely insignificant compared to the atrocities suffered by the entire African American race, but I guess that by going through my own mini- struggle against anti-Semitism, I can better relate to King’s fight for non-violence.
Meredith A. Gingold is a senior at Rufus King High School. This essay won first prize in the grades 11-12 division of the 31st Annual Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Writing Contest, sponsored by the Milwaukee Teachers’ Education Association and the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. It was first published in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on Jan. 19 and is reprinted by permission.
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