Discussing gender differences is always fun - and of course, challenging, and we do a lot of it in my adult online college psychology classes at Granite State College. We also discuss other interesting variations in humans - size (taller people, for example, fare better, sadly, in some instances like hiring, presidential elections, etc.), geographical location (where you live and grow up can influence your behavior), SES (a very complex idea - the initials stand for "socioeconomic status"), and of course, racial characteristics.
This latter is, as you can imagine, a topic that's near and dear to the hearts of psychologists as we research every imaginable concept, with some fascinating findings that relate to prejudice, an interesting idea called "outgroup homogeneity bias" (people in any racial group tend to have a hard time differentiating people in other racial groups: "They all look alike, but we all look distinctive") and other areas that pertain to that questionable and artificial attempt to distinguish people by their race.
I remember I had a young female student when I taught at the University of Massachusetts Lowell in the 1990's. She was from Taiwan, and said that when she first came to America, she had a hard time telling Americans apart. Other students were stunned: "But Americans look so different: different color hair, different facial characteristics...." She could understand what her fellow students were saying, but she said that, particularly with regard to the women, she just thought "they were all beautiful. But I couldn't tell them apart."
My grandson, who lives in Kansas, had his own solution to racial distinctions. (Just to give some background, his mother is "white" and his father is Salvadoran.) He's five, and came home from kindergarten discussing a "black boy" in his class. His mother, ever the sensitive person, said there was no need to refer to a child by the color of his skin. He asked how he should describe the other child. His mom said, "Well, just because his skin is a different color, you don't need to say that. Just use his name." He seemed to mull this over, and after a couple of days, he said, "Mom, you know how I shouldn't call a kid 'black'? Well, I just figured out what I should call him: 'A kid whose skin is a different color.' " Our daughter wasn't exactly thrilled with that distinction, so she pointed out that if skin color seemed so important, "How would you describe Daddy?" "Hmmmm..." said the budding diplomat. "I dunno."
I guess one social solution per day is all that a five-year-old can handle.
This latter is, as you can imagine, a topic that's near and dear to the hearts of psychologists as we research every imaginable concept, with some fascinating findings that relate to prejudice, an interesting idea called "outgroup homogeneity bias" (people in any racial group tend to have a hard time differentiating people in other racial groups: "They all look alike, but we all look distinctive") and other areas that pertain to that questionable and artificial attempt to distinguish people by their race.
I remember I had a young female student when I taught at the University of Massachusetts Lowell in the 1990's. She was from Taiwan, and said that when she first came to America, she had a hard time telling Americans apart. Other students were stunned: "But Americans look so different: different color hair, different facial characteristics...." She could understand what her fellow students were saying, but she said that, particularly with regard to the women, she just thought "they were all beautiful. But I couldn't tell them apart."
My grandson, who lives in Kansas, had his own solution to racial distinctions. (Just to give some background, his mother is "white" and his father is Salvadoran.) He's five, and came home from kindergarten discussing a "black boy" in his class. His mother, ever the sensitive person, said there was no need to refer to a child by the color of his skin. He asked how he should describe the other child. His mom said, "Well, just because his skin is a different color, you don't need to say that. Just use his name." He seemed to mull this over, and after a couple of days, he said, "Mom, you know how I shouldn't call a kid 'black'? Well, I just figured out what I should call him: 'A kid whose skin is a different color.' " Our daughter wasn't exactly thrilled with that distinction, so she pointed out that if skin color seemed so important, "How would you describe Daddy?" "Hmmmm..." said the budding diplomat. "I dunno."
I guess one social solution per day is all that a five-year-old can handle.
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