Holding the Space for Connection Through the Hard Conversations, Part II

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Today I watched this video of Trump supporters at his rallies.  Their words, actions, and expressions represent the basest human emotions.  I posted the video to my Facebook page, commenting:

(Donald Trump incites rage and hate) in his followers. He stokes the worst in people. He provokes the emotional states that preclude rational thought and reasonable behavior–he is the king of emotional hijacking. Nobody ever makes a good decision while emotionally hijacked; that is when relationships and connection are destroyed, often violently and permanently.

And here’s another irony:  We non-supporters are similarly hijacked by his belligerence.  He and his supporters incite us to rail against them all, collectively and wholly as individuals, as racists, bigots, idiots, haters, etc.  Name-calling is the easiest and most convenient way to separate ourselves from what we disdain, what we fear, and what’s too uncomfortable to tolerate.  But how does this help anything?

On my last blog post I wrote:

I intend to avoid:

-Speaking and writing in sweeping generalizations

-Following snap judgments about groups, or individuals based on their group membership

-Labeling and shaming people or groups as ‘racist,’ ’ignorant,’ ‘stupid,’ ‘lazy,’ etc.

Today I wrote about Trump’s supporters:

I’m trying not to label and pigeon-hole these people, trying not to judge them and discard them, just by what I see here.  That only advances the exact mentality I seek to reverse: more separation, more hatred, more “you are less than me, you don’t matter.”

I guess I have to keep reminding myself.

I can hardly imagine what it would be like to sit down, one-on-one, with someone who sincerely supports a Donald Trump presidency, and have a conversation about it.  But I can easily imagine talking to a Trump supporter about the trials and joys of parenting, the breakneck evolution of technology, and a mutual love of Marvel movies.  Who knows, maybe I already do.

I think most of my friends know my political persuasion.  Most of them also share it.  But probably more than I realize don’t share it, and we avoid talking about it.  Why?  Because it’s uncomfortable.  We don’t trust ourselves to avoid the emotional hijacking.  We’re afraid we’ll say something we’ll regret and damage the relationship.  Or (and), we see the only objective of such conversations as trying to change the other person’s mind, or having our mind changed, which feels at the same time futile and scary.  So our avoidance of the hard, uncomfortable conversations is an attempt to maintain connection (with ourselves as well as one another).  We intrinsically understand that our relationships are important.  So we limit our conversations to topics on which we agree.

At this time in our human evolution, however, we are called to do more.  It’s too easy to live in the echo chambers of like-minded friends and media sites.  It’s too easy to filter our perceptions through repetition and reinforcement, to think that our point of view is the only one, or worse, the only right one.  It’s too easy to label others as wholly racist, sexist, bigoted, idiotic, communist, misogynist, mindless, right-wing, extremist, or evil, based on impulsive interactions in comment sections on a blog or Facebook post.  It is simply too easy to fall victim to premature judgment and conviction based on skewed and incomplete evidence.  We are called to so much more.  We are called to the hard conversations, the interactions that require effort and persistence.  Why?  Because the rewards of this work are understanding, compassion, empathy, connection, and love.

My friend wrote to me, “We have to do this work for your beautiful children.”  Yes, my dear friend, for all of our beautiful, innocent children.  Let us model for them what it means to Hold the Space for Connection, even, and especially, when it’s hard.  This is the work we are called to do.

Holding the Space for Transition


Two weeks of summer vacation done and gone, holy cow! And the hot, muggy Chicago summer has begun in earnest.
Gone are the manic-depressive weeks of sixties one day, eighties the next, keeping jeans and shorts, tank tops and sweaters, all on hand because I never know what I’ll walk out to in the morning. The summer schedule is always looser: later starts at camp, no homework, and ooohh, the longer days! The extra sunlight saves me every year. Just as I think I’m going to lose my mind from the dreary gray of this lakeside climate, I’m suddenly able to start a 90 minute bike ride at 6:30pm and still get home before dark.
Every year it feels the same–summer sneaks up on me in late June, arriving suddenly and with great force, like opening the front door to a smothering blast of hot, humid air. But sometimes I’m able to pay a little more attention, and I may notice the trees budding and the crocus shoots pushing through still-cold soil, as early as April. The Transition is actually quite long. Maybe it’s Mother Nature’s way of teaching me patience. Every year I lament (loudly) the halting, stuttering, ever agonal and prolonged Chicago ‘spring.’ I swear, it feels like winter refuses to let go its death grip of cold and clouds; it must be pried away like the fingers of a long dead frost bite victim, hands wrapped around the city like a vice, contractured muscles rendered immobile at a cellular level.
But now it’s officially summer and I’m going to make the most of it. My youngest is getting confident on her bike. Soon we can all get out on the lake path to access Chicago’s beaches, no fighting for parking. We will also be road-tripping more this year–why else should I have the giant SUV with such a sweet sound system?? I will weed that garden, plant more herbs, and use them all up in my recipes this year. We will visit the Art Institute, go to free concerts downtown, and spend as much time outside as possible! Hallelujah, it’s SUMMER!!!
Now is the season to reframe my use of time, to do it better. Perhaps this Transition has also been more gradual than I realize… The urge for more efficiency and productivity has lurked around my consciousness for a while now. So many things to do, so precious little time–take care of patients, participate in professional societies, present talks on physician wellness, spend quality time with the family and friends, move my body, eat healthier, and write this blog!! This year’s spring to summer Transition feels in some ways, so typical, and in others, a little revolutionary.
I have ten more weeks to make it all count, and then the next Transition begins–summer to fall. That may be my favorite part of the year–harvesting apples and squash, putting the cozy sweaters back on, and witnessing the visual symphony of leaves turning. Somehow I’m always able to slow down and savor this period a lot more easily; it feels more peaceful, less frenetic.
How fascinating! I’m in such a hurry to escape winter’s cold, dark grasp, that I miss (or ignore, fail to appreciate?) the small but reliable signs of a Chicago spring. But then, after a couple months of sweltering heat and humidity, I welcome the crisp autumn air–I relax. And though I know the long, dark winter approaches, I can revel in the colors, the school supplies, the new academic year. Our friends who left for the summer return, and I look forward to the holidays, with the food, the gatherings, and the exchanges of greetings, gifts, and warm wishes… And did I mention the FOOD?? 😆
So I set myself the task hereafter, to slow down and Hold the Space for Spring, the most challenging Transition of the year here in Chicago. I can continue to practice patience, calm, and appreciation for all that nature must do to bring forth the glory of summer here. Maybe I should set an alert to reread this post next March…

Holding the Space: Beyond ‘Agree to Disagree’, or, A Discussion of White Male Privilege

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I recently found myself engaged in another oppositional conversation on Facebook… and it was a very good thing.

It was the ‘Week of Brock Turner,’ the Stanford swimmer convicted of 3 felony counts of sexual assault of an unconscious woman behind a dumpster. He was sentenced to 6 months in the county jail, only 3 months of which he would likely serve.  Social media erupted more violently each day with outrage and revulsion.  I, like many others, concluded that this represented a stark case of white male privilege at play, and I stated as much on my page.

A friend quickly denied the concept. We agreed that the sentence for Brock Turner’s heinous crime was absurdly lenient.  I wrote that I might have been more accepting of the outcome if he had owned his wrongdoing, and conveyed a sincere apology to the woman for violating her so egregiously.  My friend replied, “You’re nicer than me, I think he should have his balls chopped off.  But I’m old school.”  We both saw the result as unacceptable, but explained it from totally different points of view: he attributed it to the Turner family’s high socioeconomic status, and not to privilege of race or gender.

I shared this article, which I thought explained the phenomenon, one of unconscious bias, with relevant scholarly references.  He shared this article, claiming that white male privilege is an idea promoted by the political left to retain power over minorities.  I posted a link to Michael Kimmel’s TED talk, explaining the essence of privilege—that it is invisible to those who have it.  My friend then posted this article, a logical refutation of white male privilege based on what the author describes as the fallacy of critical race theory.  We each followed the other’s links, and criticized the content thereof (with civility, of course).

Several screens into the thread I realized we were each trying to convince the other, to change the other’s mind. It wasn’t working, duh.  I found myself sucked, again, into a typical tit-for-tat, back and forth argument over positions.  It started to feel like an exercise in futility.  Finally I wrote to my friend that I will study more (I still don’t really understand critical race theory), and meanwhile we can agree to disagree.  I thanked him for engaging, and we concluded the conversation amicably.  It got me thinking though:  Once we agree to disagree, what then?  Where do we go from there?  I still believe strongly in the existence of white male privilege, and he still strongly does not.

Let’s assume that both he and I—indeed most of us—are, in fact, kind, decent, compassionate, and intelligent people. Let’s assume also that we all seek productive and positive relationships with others.  What, then, are the best and worst manifestations of our respective beliefs?  I think it’s an important question.  How could we Hold the Space for the answers?  Here is my attempt:

 

White Male Privilege Exists

Worst manifestations

  • “All white men are misogynist pigs, oblivious to their inherent, unearned privilege, who perpetuate the oppression of women and people of color.” This attitude oversimplifies, generalizes, and stereotypes.
  • “All institutions are insidiously and irrevocably driven by white male privilege, and the only way to overcome this oppression is to treat it/people aggressively. We need to shame them in public until they get it.” This militant attitude incites and provokes, further alienating the very population it seeks to convert.

Best manifestations

  • “We all cannot help our unconscious biases—they are indoctrinated from a very early age and operate beneath conscious awareness. It does not automatically make anyone an inherent racist, sexist, or otherwise a bad person.” I see this as a nonjudgmental, objective, and mindful framework. It recognizes things as they are, however much we dislike them, with patience. It does not pit one group against another, and allows us to approach one another with openness.
  • “We can do our best to call attention, with civility, to white male privilege when we see it playing out in the workplace, social settings, etc.” The goal here is to bring it from unconscious to conscious awareness, where it can be better managed by intellect and reason. This is exactly how we work to overcome stereotypes and other unconscious biases. The first step is awareness, which can come much more easily in settings of nonjudgement, curiosity, and shared humanity.
  • “I will monitor my own biases in all realms, and look for contradictions to my assumptions.” Because I believe white male privilege is so prevalent, I risk over-attributing. It is my responsibility to check my perceptions against reliable and objective truths, or at least seek others’ perspectives for balance.

 

White Male Privilege Does Not Exist

Worst manifestation

“The concept of white male privilege is colossal lie, confabulated by the political left to wield power over minorities. Anyone who ascribes to this fallacy is unworthy of intellectual discourse.”  This attitude dismisses not just the idea, but the people who believe it.  It leads easily to name-calling and accusations, defensiveness and contempt.

Best manifestation

“I don’t believe in white male privilege, but I recognize other important contributors to poverty and social disparities. I will reject attempts to shame my point of view, and refrain from slinging insults in kind.  I pledge to work with others to effect positive change though good-faith pursuit of shared values and common goals.”  This is what I wish for someone on ‘the other side’ to say.  It takes the conversation beyond ‘he said, she said,’ and allows both parties to stand side by side to tackle important issues from different, and possibly complementary perspectives.

 

I am grateful to my friend for engaging with me on this topic. If not for him, I would never have come across the articles he posted.  I would not have questioned my position, or thought to consider the origins and merits of an opposite one.  The conversation called on me to practice critical appraisal as well as openness.  And while my opinion remains unchanged, its application is now more nuanced and thoughtful.  I like this idea of getting beyond ‘agreeing to disagree.’ By identifying the best manifestations of our respective beliefs, we can all contribute to a more just future.