Cybernethics / Cybernéthique

My first encounter with racism was early in elementary school. Three boys were picking on another one for some reason I didn't know, notably calling him a "kike" ("youpin", in French). The victim looked peaceful and innocent, and I felt sympathy for him (probably I now realize because he looked more intelligent than the average, and I was looking for an equal to befriend). So I went to his rescue. I peacefully asked the boys to justify their aggressive stance, and even offered to side with them if the "kike" kid were indeed the egregious offender they were seemingly accusing him to be (had he and his friends beaten some innocent comrade?), maybe to denounce him to the adults had he stolen something from them; if on the other hand, he was as innocent of a former crime as he was peaceful now, I would have to defend him, even if it meant two weak kids against three stronger kids (or only one against three, for the victim seemed even less prone to fighting than I). I had little chance of overcoming them, but I was both excited at the prospect of taking part in a just fight, and fearful of bruises that would leave long-term scars. But they had no intelligible justification except for more insults to proffer, and eventually went away, being surprisingly cowardly in front of such little opposition. Now for helping this boy in what could have otherwise led to a satisfactory (to them) one-way beating (had the boy given them the least pretext to hit, I now realized), I ended up with the same epithet of "kike".

I was excited to discover a new name to be called, and immediately asked my new friend what that insult meant. Was it referring to a penis? to an asshole? to another body part? Was it describing the perpetrators of some odious crime or taboo practice? Was it a dirty profession? My comrade gave me most confusing explanations. Apparently the word described people indeed, not body parts, and some people were kikes. Moreover, the aggressors were indeed correct that he was one, though it was not a nice thing for them to say, true as it may have been. What more, though it was told him in a tone suitable to shame him, he felt no shame at being one; indeed there were no particular actions or behaviors, either objectionable or laudable, associated with being one. It sounded almost like a good thing to be. How did he know he was one? He had always known. Which didn't make sense for babies don't know anything, so when asked to be more specific, he'd say his parents told him. Was I one myself? I probably would know if I were one. Except I didn't. So he said I wasn't one. Which hurt my pride. How could he know more than I about my own kikeness?

When I came back home that day I asked my mom what it meant to be a kike, and whether I were one myself. It turns out I wasn't, but the next door neighbors were, though I better not call them that. How did she know I wasn't? Because she wasn't. And how did she know she wasn't? Because vietnamese people aren't. But how do vietnamese people know they aren't? It turns out you didn't become a kike (or "jew" ("juif in French) would be a non-insulting name), but were born that way, and your parents knew you were, and their parents before them, etc. And it didn't happen for the vietnamese. What about my father's side? It could not be known for sure, but it wasn't likely, though his family practiced a variant of the jewish religion; somehow only the mother's side really mattered. But were did the first jews come from? They became it by following some dude long ago. Hah, so somehow you could become one! Could you become not one? Could I try become one to see what it meant and deserve my new epithet, and stop being one if I didn't like it? I probably wouldn't like all the rules she argued (but what relationship was there between being born one way and following complex rules?) and it involved chopping a part of my body that I couldn't grow back when I'd want to stop being one. It turns out my mom didn't particularly like jews either, though she was not vehement about it. But I couldn't understand her explanations why she didn't like them, or the explanations why other people in general would hate them, which included the ancient and modern history of a tiny far away country I had never heard of before. It was all so very confusing. I wouldn't understand it for years.

Still, I earned the title of kike on the battlefield of my elementary school playground, by defusing an aggression with inferior force and superior argument. And ever since that day, I have been a proud non-practicing non-ethnic non-cultural jew.