Passing

 

To the degree that one successfully conceals that one belongs to a particular marginalized people, one escapes whatever stigma, glass ceilings, and persecution one would be subject to if the truth were known. But at what price?

The verb to pass takes on a four-layered meaning here.

In the first sense of the word, one passes as, passes for, or passes oneself off as something one is not, like passing a counterfeit hundred-dollar bill off as a real one. This is the original etymology of the expression, and the commonly intended meaning.

The second sense is in which one “passes” is the implicit goal of any attempt to “pass” in the first sense of the word. This second sort of “passing” is passing in the sense of passing through or passing by: one passes unmolested through the territory of the dominant group one is imitating; one passes through doorways that are closed to those who are known to belong to one’s people; one passes through glass ceilings into the upper echelons of society; one passes unchallenged through gates marked White Only or Juden Verboten; one passes by police, soldiers, and guards without being stopped, abused, arrested, or shot; one passes inspection; one is passed over on the night they come for the rest of one’s people.

The third and fourth senses of the word are unintended but inevitable consequences of "passing" in the first and second senses of the word. In the third sense, one passes in the sense of passing one’s turn: declining an offer or an opportunity, declining a turn to stand up and speak, a turn to drink from the cup, a turn to make one’s move in the game. In choosing to pass in the first and second sense, one also passes up one’s opportunity and responsibility to represent one’s people, to make a difference for them, to be a hero of and for one’s people. One says “I pass” to the angel of one’s destiny; one chooses the relative comfort and safety of the shadows over one’s chance to step up to the sword in the stone and give it a good hard tug.

And finally, by not taking a stand for one’s people, by passing in the third sense of the word, one also passes in the fourth sense of the word, the sense of passing it along: all the hardships that one seeks to avoid by “passing,” one passes along to the next generation. When one takes a stand for one’s people, one leaves behind a legacy: perhaps a door that was closed to one’s people but is now open; at the very least an example for young people, a tale to teach them what they are worth and what they can aspire to. When one yields to fear and shame and oppression and chooses to pass in silence, then that fear and shame and oppression become the legacy that one passes along to the next generation of one’s people.