Prejudice starts with a few choice deeds. Mr. and Mrs. Maron were expecting a child. Both had a light complexion to their skin, and they were financially stable. Mr. and Mrs. Maron named their son Charles.

On the day of Charles's fifth birthday, new neighbors moved across the street from the Marons. They had a darker complexion. The family was busy with business affairs, so Charles was able to slip out. The new neighbors next door have a child as well. His name was Anthony. The two children played and laughed for hours. Suddenly, Mrs. Maron screamed. Charles turned to see her standing behind him and Anthony.

Anthony's parents walked toward them. Charles's mother screamed strange words at them that Charles did not understand and told the neighbors to go back where they came from. She picked up Charles and carried him away. She said that he could no longer play with Anthony. Charles asked why.

“You'll understand when you're older, son. But know this; those people aren't like us. They’re different.”
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The toddler Charles now holds twelve years of age. One day, he spotted his friends in the parking lot. They were beating up a darker-toned student.

“What are you guys doing?” asked Charles.

“Oh hey, man. Want to help us out beat up this ****?” asked his friend, Gary.

The victim's eyes were wide with fear. “Please help me!” he gasped hopefully.

“Shut up!” Charles's friend kicked him in the stomach. “Stupid ******.”

“What has this kid done?” asked Charles.

“This kid is one of them. He doesn't belong here.”

“You're beating him up? That's horrible!!” Everyone stopped.

“You're defending him? Are you serious? He's a ******! They don't belong here.” reasoned Gary.

“They're weak!” another friend cried. “They shouldn't be in this country! They all deserve to die!” She turned to Charles. “Charles, are you stupid? Wait, are you a ******-lover?”

Charles paused. He realized that if he defended him, his status in school would be diminished. That would mean he would lose his friends. That would mean he'd be hated by everyone he knew. That would mean he would be beaten like the poor kid in front of him.

“No, I'm not,” Charles replied shakily.

“How do we know, huh? We do we know you're not a traitor?”

“I'll- I'll prove it then!” Charles was desperate. He ran up to the bruising boy and kicked him right in the stomach.

Aghh!” The boy screamed in agony.

“Good,” replied his friends, “glad you're not a ***-lover Charlie. I'd hate to see people bully you.”

When Charles got home, he told his parents about what happened to the kid getting beat up by his friends.

“Did you stand up for him?” Asked his father.

“No,” muttered Charles, “I hurt him instead. Kicked him right in the stomach.” He was ashamed he didn't stand up for him. His parents always taught to be justify the wrong.

“That's good.”
Charles was confused by his parents' remark. “You're okay with this?”

“Son,” replied his father, “your friends are right. I know I told you to always do what was right, but this is different. Those people are different. They don't belong here. Not in this town, nor this province, nor this country! Don't you see, Charlie? They're outsiders, and they're terrible people. Evil! Those animals don't deserve our respect, nor our care. Do you understand now, son? I need you to understand that we shouldn't care for them. We're better than them.”

Charles sat down on the sofa. “That's what my friends said, too.”

“And they're right.” Mr. Maron sat down next to his son. “You know,” he said. “When your grandfather told me the truth about them, I was skeptical too. But this is how we are. And let's pray that it stay that way.”

Charles nodded. “You're right. That kid getting beat up look like an animal too.” Both of them laughed at this.

This was the final step in his development of hate. In time, he would grow to be as hateful as his friends and his family. He was violent to his victims, never looking. Charles's has learned so much. He learned from his family. He learned from his friends. He learned from his society. Because when hatred beckons, Man will always come answering...