I listened to a piece on NPR today in which a man who had shipwrecked on the coast of Newfoundland in 1942 described how the experience changed his life. The man, in the Navy at the time, is black. The St. Lawrentians who picked up him and his white shipmates, washed, them, tended to their injuries, fed and clothed them, were white. (So white than one woman tried to "scrub the black off him" - she literally through he'd gotten coated with tar that had soaked into his pores.
What changed his life was that the people who helped him treated him as a human, as deserving of help as his shipmates. It made him see the whole world, white people and himself differently for the rest of his life - he was 83 when interviewed. Whenever he gets a little spare cash, he donates it to St. Lawrence, so they will know what they did for him. And all they did was what a decent human should do for another in need - only literally no one had ever reated him as a human of equal worth before.
My point is that I agree with you: it's always worth it to keep trying, even if you're not sure you're doing it right. You never know what little thing will bring a great change.
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What changed his life was that the people who helped him treated him as a human, as deserving of help as his shipmates. It made him see the whole world, white people and himself differently for the rest of his life - he was 83 when interviewed. Whenever he gets a little spare cash, he donates it to St. Lawrence, so they will know what they did for him. And all they did was what a decent human should do for another in need - only literally no one had ever reated him as a human of equal worth before.
My point is that I agree with you: it's always worth it to keep trying, even if you're not sure you're doing it right. You never know what little thing will bring a great change.