Tunnel of Oppression

Slut. White trash. Skank. These are just some of the words that stared me in the face, causing my stomach to lurch and tie itself in knots, as I entered a most dark and gloomy tunnel, one of which I hope I never have to face in real life. Upon entering the Tunnel of Oppression, I did not think that I would feel victimized. But I did. I knew that I would feel pain in regards to the events of the past and people who were targeted, but I had no idea that the pain would feel so real. Even though these words were not specifically yelling at me, at some point in time they were in somebody’s face and their stomach was lurching, too. And this was just the beginning.

As my girlfriends and I turned the corner, we were faced with political scandal, media slander, and to top it all off, a detailed time-line, photos and all, of historical events that have, of course, shaped our country, but at the same time do not shine good light upon our society.

I took my thumb and pressed it on a dark, red ink pad, on a wall covered with photos of girls also bearing red thumbs, and stamped my commitment to voting. The shock of seeing all the discrimination and prejudice in one big blow had shocked me enough, but as I made my way to the next area, Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit” overflowed my ears, and I knew what was coming next. Lynching. Everywhere. Photos. Names. Statistics. It made me sick, but I walked ahead, angrily clutching the lyrics to Holiday’s sad, but true song.

Child soldiers surrounded me next. I had no idea this was happening, and now felt worse for being oblivious. This room shocked me the most. Bloody descriptions and photos of four-year-olds carrying artillery. I wanted to cry. I felt everything bad in the world was coming towards me at full speed. Next molestation. The statistics caused the familiar lurching once again. The artistic paper display of a women’s body, wearing only a bloody, dirty bra and panties sucked the life out of me even more.

I knew all of this existed. I knew from history lessons, warnings from my parents, the late night news, and articles in magazines. I knew all of this had happened and was still happening. But I had never felt it before. I’ve written about it. Been tested on it. I’m educated and worldly. But no matter how prepared anyone is, they will be surprised by what they feel when they come face to face with the truth.

In the last room, I felt relief. It stood in a room of “Childhood Memories.” Yet, it was eerie just the same. I knew, after going through all the other “tunnels” that these pictures of happy children were just moments in time and that much more bad things were happening than any of us could care to believe.
After walking through the past and present, I can only hope that the future Tunnel of Oppression is less oppressing than this one was, but offers just as much realization, causes more emotional feelings, and ultimately makes a difference in the lives of all who experience it, such as this one did for me.