Where We Begin Counts
So back when I was in law school, I landed an internship at an amazing non-profit law firm called The Center for Death Penalty Litigation (definitely click that link and learn about the incredible work the CDPL does!).
When I got the internship, a friend of mine gave me a magnet for my fridge that has moved from home to home with me ever since and now resides in Kippee. It’s one of those humorous magnets made to look like a classic 1950s-style advertisement.
This one features a Shirley Temple look-alike perched on the quintessential ‘50s sitcom Dad-in-a-suit’s knee and the words, “Daddy, why do we kill people who kill people to show that killing people is wrong?”
You see, I’ve long believed that “fighting fire with fire” simply leads to burning the whole world down.
Before you jump to hit the unsubscribe button, I invite you to hear me out, to pause for just a moment and consider what I’m about to say.
We can do this better.
We can be outraged at injustice. Livid at inequality.
We can rage as we dismantle systems of oppression and accept nothing but change as we stand as part of this long overdue movement.
AND
AND
We can choose not to become the other side of the dehumanizing coin while we do it.
A copywriter I follow recently had an Instagram post that was pretty great. She said, “Talking about racism is like a colonic for your subscriber list,” implying, of course, that it will, ummm, flush the $h!t out of your list.
That people who have a problem with it will unsubscribe and you can wave “buh-bye” as they go.
But here’s the thing...
My list is full of big-hearted people who want to be having these conversations.
People who are engaged and ready to work for change.
And they’re dropping like flies.
Most of them have been ‘kind’ enough to send a note with an explanation.
It’s usually taken the form of listing the many ways I’ve done this wrong, from “centering myself” in last week’s email to not having been vocal enough on social media to having failed to address something or mentioned someone or generally not been quite good enough in one way or another.
Which is fine— truly— my feelings aren’t hurt and if you remember, I actually asked you to call me out if you felt like I’d missed something and I appreciate it.
I’m not being snarky here— I really do appreciate it.
I want to learn, to do and be better.
This is not me asking any of you to reach out and make me feel better— I’m totally good. For real. I promise.
What I think is interesting, however, and I feel like I can’t just not talk about it, is the lack of compassion or grace I’m seeing here.
I think the conversation around taking full responsibility for our actual impact is an absolutely critical one.
That our intentions are irrelevant if our actions cause harm.
Yes Yes Yes.
This is so important.
AND ALSO.
I think we are capable of balancing that with allowing that we are human.
That to be human means we are imperfect and flawed and full of vulnerability and fear.
That to be human is to also be a product of conditioning and trauma and a variety of lived experiences.
That to be human is to make mistakes, to change our minds, to learn and grow.
Look.
I get it.
There are ideas and viewpoints out there that are more than just different from my own, more than just frustrating. They cause real harm in the lives of others. And I feel compelled to do everything in my power to ensure that those viewpoints aren’t the ones that our policymaking is based on.
I want change to happen now.
I’m horrified that it’s taken me this long to fully step into my own responsibility for why things haven’t changed yet. That it’s taken me this long to really own just how much work I need to do on myself while I’m also working to be a part of dismantling these systems.
It is not easy to face these things inside of myself.
And I understand the appeal in to pointing out the flaws in how other people are doing this work— it’s a far more attractive prospect than the discomfort of really digging into my own. I just wonder if that would be helpful or actually move us forward.
The last time I checked, dehumanizing one person doesn’t generally empower that person to treat others as more human.
Eviscerating one person or one group is not actually the same as uplifting or showing greater compassion for another.
I’d rather spend my energy and time and resources empowering people and contributing to the organizations and leaders who are affecting meaningful change.
I’m not asking you to agree or accept injustice or inequality or to shy away from the difficult conversations that have to happen in order for those things to end.
Please don't.
On the contrary— I sincerely hope that you will be a part of the change that is so overdue.
What I am asking is that you pause and take a breath before you go on the attack.
What I am asking is that you show up in your full humanity and allow that others may be doing the same.
What I ask is that you begin from a default belief that every human you are dealing with is doing the best they can with the tools they have in this moment, and I challenge you to ask yourself, before you attack, whether or not perhaps you can help provide that person with better tools, deeper understanding, a wider perspective by meeting them where they are instead of tearing them apart because they aren’t where you believe they should be.
Remember that what we see of other’s lives is only a small fraction of their truth.
We are multi-faceted beings capable of feeling more than one thing at a time. Capable of doing more than one thing at a time.
We can do the work of dismantling oppressive and unacceptable systems while uplifting people who have been too long unheard and undervalued.
We can do that work from a place of love.
I would argue that we must do that work from a place of love.
Anger is too exhausting to sustain us as long as we will need to be sustained in order for us to ensure that every layer of the changes that must happen do happen.
If we aren’t rooted in something more, the movement won’t be able to last.
And we need this movement to last as long as it takes for real change to occur.
So find your love. Find your compassion. Find your humanity.
We have too much work to do for you to do anything else.
Stay curious out there, my friend.