Reagan said, “Standing before the Brandenburg Gate, every man is a German, separated from his fellow men. Every man is a Berliner, forced to look upon a scar.” His words recall Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall”, in which the author’s neighbor insists that “Good fences make good neighbors.” On the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, an important question nagged me: What walls (literal or figurative) continue to distance friend from friend, and neighbor from neighbor, leaving lasting scars on our nation?

A recent shooting in Texas points dramatically at wounds that have not yet healed.

After a Muslim army doctor opened fire at Fort Hood, killing at least 13 and wounding many more, the Internet was peppered with stories and blogs denouncing his ties to radical Islamic groups. In response, Islamic leaders called for “calm”, asking the “public to refrain from judging all Muslims” (PBS, Religion & Ethics Newsweekly). I noticed Muslim friends (and their friends) post comments on Facebook, fearing that their own Arabic-sounding names might make them targets. This reminds me of the days following the September 11 attacks, when female students wearing traditional Islamic dress on the campus of the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill were attacked and even spat on.

Haven’t we learned anything? Radical ideologies are not the norm, and Major Nidal Malik Hasan, the alleged Fort Hood shooter, is not representative of mainstream Islam. I defer to the U.S. Army’s Chief of Staff, General George W. Casey, Jr., who expressed concern that the shooting in Fort Hood might “cause backlash” against Muslim servicemen and women. “Our diversity, not only in our Army but in our country, is a strength,” he said on Meet the Press. “And as horrific as this tragedy was, if our diversity becomes a casualty, I think that’s worse.”

Well said, General.

So we knock down one wall, but by maintaining our fear and refusing to let go of stereotypes, aren’t we just building other barriers?

I sound preachy, but I am not infallible.

On November 9th, I asked myself: What walls do I continue to ‘mend’? What insignificant slights do I refuse to let go? It’s incredible that after almost 20 years, I still feel bitter towards a high school classmate who called me a name, after 5 years, I struggle to forgive a man who pushed me a little too hard at a political event, and after 3 months, I can’t forgive myself for bungling an interview. Furthermore, I allow my own insecurities to keep me from initiating conversations with certain people, and am still pretty certain that that handsome stranger at the coffee shop wouldn’t want to hear what I have to say.

Perhaps what we need is to stage a toppling of our own insecurities and prejudices. Here’s the strategy: Take 10 domino pieces and assign each an irrational thought (“All [members of a specific religion] are [adjective]”; “People don’t like me because I am [adjective]”; “[Name of person] made me so mad because [action or words]”). Next, line them up, and knock them down.

Use a sledgehammer if necessary.