Karalis: “For some kids at school I and my sister were just the blacks”

In the book “Emmanuel Karalis: When you look from above», The Greek invitement of-among others-and for his racism who experienced in his life. The publishing house “Diopters” published, on its website, an excerpt from the book. In this, the Olympian recounts the years that for their classmates, he and his twin sister, they had no names and were just “blacks”. Their mother defended his right and “every day our colorful company was growing,” as he says.

In detail the excerpt:

A hand -handed hand with my sister Angeliki, we crossed the school door, ready to live again the joy of the kindergarten and kindergarten, which was just opposite our home in Chalandri.

Angeliki has always been bolder and she was always my heroine. It’s still! I didn’t take a step without her approval. After all, it was my big sister. He was born a minute before me.

If it didn’t bind my cords, I couldn’t start. Even when I wore my sportswear upside down, with my right -wing shoe on the left foot, if she said it was okay, I was going as if nothing was happening. I needed her approval and protection. I trusted everything on her and she knew it and enjoyed it. It was the leader and this role was going a lot. Even when they separated us, so as not to be together in the same section, and I felt I missed the earth under my feet, she tightened my hand even louder and showed me the corner where we would meet in breaks. Only for a while with railings around us, inside the school anymore, although there were no really railings. For some kids we had no names. We were just the blacks. And that hurt us.

What might have gone wrong? What had changed from kindergarten to elementary school, except perhaps from the suburb where they belonged? And yet it seemed like another planet.

Why can some young children become so hard? Difficult questions to answer them then. But not for my mother, who because of this was slowly began to transform in front of our eyes to the school mascot. After hearing us carefully about what was happening, he came to our teachers immediately and claimed our right. My mother always has her own way of claiming her right and, while studying her for so many years, I am still looking for it. It is certain that he does not tolerate injustice. And this is something that is very intense, now that Angelica has grown. This unique sense of law, which puts the most perfect dividing lines in what you claim, but also in what you decide to do.

There are a few things in life that are not learned in words but are shown by deeds, and when a few years later, in the track, I would make the decision to defend myself with whatever legal means I had my dignity and pride, leading them to the courts of those who tried to kneel me, They didn’t even want to learn our name, but they only saw our color, trying to make them understand this simple thing, perhaps the most self -evident thing in the world, that we may not all be the same, but we are equal.

“How do you say, baby boy, you?‘

“Costa, Mrs.”

“Would you like Kostaki to call you “milk” from today?‘

“Why, lady, to call me “milk”?‘

‘Cwhy are you white”

“And what about that? I have a name”

“And these little ones have a name. It is Emmanuel and Angeliki. So why are you saying blacks and don’t shout at their names?‘

A strange silence was spread out.

Her look was taking an expression that I still can’t describe in words today. But every time I see it, it fills me with confidence and goes back to that moment, when everything was so simply in their place.

“Give, please, hands. So today I want to shout them by their name. This is Emmanuel and this Angelic. Kids, from here Kostas”

And the circle was growing. Every day a kid more in our company. Every day a little kid in the group of those who only saw white and black in their lives. And the team of colorful suddenly decided in a way of abnormally naturally defending us, now trying to broaden our circle. Our corner no longer could us. We had begun to occupy the space we were rightly appropriate.

Then I didn’t understand it. Now I am fighting for myself for this space. And I know where I have taken the strength for this struggle. I know most of the time I can’t just wait for the right time. Sometimes I have to jump to catch it. I can’t wait for the acceptance of others. I have to create the conditions for this.

The right time or acceptance of others or the luck or the opportunity or say it as you want, is something real. Some call it a juncture, others a gift. But stretching out your hand to grab it when it passes in front of you, and even ready for it, is something completely different. The concepts of luck and opportunity are tied to each other with an inextricable bond. You are waiting for her to knock on the door, but after you first told her where you live. You win the lottery after you have bought it first. In your life, roads must be open, but sometimes you need to set aside the stones.

The lucky man actually knows that his fate has created himself, constantly sending messages to the universe that he is there and waiting. Fortune loves the good hosts who know how to welcome it in the way it deserves, and avoids those who set up traps to catch it.

Because luck is energy. It is that magical process of preparation, faith, perseverance, patience and will that ultimately turns it into creation. Fortune is the camouflage of creation, and this is not everyone can understand it, except those who enjoy the moment they wear their goodies, they smile at her and wait for her to smile. To be able to enjoy your good luck, you have to feel that much of it has created a large part of it. When you grow within you, you don’t just win your good luck, but you deserve it. And when you think you deserve, you win.

Fortune has two faces. One is the cause of our existence, without being able to do something about it. It is the reason for our birth here and not there, without anyone asking us. The other is the cause of our happiness and the reason to create the conditions for it. The one who works for his fate feels lucky, and because he feels lucky he can be stronger, and so, at the festival of life, the lucky one always drags the dance.

I think I learned this from the first moment that I gave my hand to Kostakis and made him see more than my color.

I gave him the opportunity to find out my name. So what is the opportunity. So what it means to create it or what it means to stretch my hand and make it mine when it passes in front of me. And their hand is almost always stretched out by those who believe in themselves. Others just sit down and notice all the good in front of them, believing that they are not for them. And when the neighbor extends his hand to do what he wants his own, for them he is only a lucky and nothing else, while in fact he is the creator.