Discrimination remains a pervasive issue in the 21st century, deeply affecting children in ways that are often underestimated. Drawing from my own lived experiences—as an immigrant child and a mother witnessing my children's struggles—this article explores the profound short- and long-term consequences.
According to Google, discrimination involves distinguishing between people or groups based on traits like origin, race, religion, sexual orientation, age, and more. It violates the core principle that all individuals are equal and can even be illegal.
It's hard to pinpoint exactly why, but parents often model biased behavior that children carry into adulthood—'learned young, done old.' Feelings of superiority or unfamiliarity with other cultures and customs frequently fuel it.
Fear of the unknown drives discrimination, which can start subtly but escalate to affect entire groups, leading to conflict or even war in extreme cases.
In the late 1980s, my family emigrated from rural Germany to The Hague in the Netherlands. At age 10, I was thrilled by the adventure. My parents enrolled me in a Dutch primary school, repeating fourth grade to learn the language. I adapted quickly, excelling in all subjects—including Dutch—by year's end, outperforming native peers.
Initially, I felt accepted; neighborhood kids played with me from day one. But when our small school merged, the bullying began: slurs like 'moff' (a derogatory term for Germans) and worse, exclusion, and nasty insults. School lost its joy.
High school improved slightly, though whispers persisted. I saw others—children of immigrants—face similar prejudice despite anti-discrimination efforts.
Adulthood brought no relief. My husband's grandparents rejected me for my heritage. During my driving test, the examiner's 'Oh, you're German?' doomed me despite flawless driving. Gender bias and judgment as a teenage mother followed.
I hoped to shield my kids, but in 2004, we moved to Suriname as a white family. Initially welcoming, the friendliness faded. While preschoolers accepted differences, primary school teachers and parents highlighted our 'otherness,' inciting bullying.
My son endured severe harassment, forcing us to withdraw him; even the next school required ministry intervention. My daughter internalized it quietly, her pain surfacing years later in secondary school.
These experiences linger. Though resilient, I still feel the sting occasionally—but it reflects the discriminators' flaws, not mine. My diverse friendships and family remain a source of pride.
For my children, the effects are deeper: eroded self-confidence, feelings of unwelcomeness, and distrust. Rebuilding identity amid rejection is challenging; openness has given way to wariness. Time may heal, but I hope they respond with greater empathy.
Beyond discrimination, simple exclusion devastates children—something I've seen firsthand with my son.
Imagine a world without it: children growing up prejudice-free, embracing diversity. Until then, those affected must overcome it, though scars remain.
The video below powerfully shows why discrimination is senseless—we share far more similarities than differences.
Have you or your children faced discrimination? How did you cope?
