November 29:  Reflection Makes Me Better

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NaBloPoMo 2019

How was 2019 for you, friends?

Looking back, what stands out?  What gives you pride and joy?  Guilt and regret?  What’s the best thing you learned?  What do you look forward to the most in 2020?

In the first post of this month, I described my last role play experience, one marked by intensity around domestic violence and dense communication skills practice.  Dr. Orit Kalnieri-Miller led the workshop, and I will forever be grateful for her groundbreaking work incorporating reflective practice in medical education.

Wikipedia says reflective practice is

 the ability to reflect on one’s actions so as to engage in a process of continuous learning.[1] According to one definition it involves “paying critical attention to the practical values and theories which inform everyday actions, by examining practice reflectively and reflexively. This leads to developmental insight”.[2]A key rationale for reflective practice is that experience alone does not necessarily lead to learning; deliberate reflection on experience is essential.[3][4]

Regular reflective practice, I think, is mindfulness in action.

This whole month I have been reflecting.  Looking back, seeking patterns.  What really does make me better?  Better for whom?  For What?  How does it all help me going forward?  I have probed my habits, my relationships, roles, activities, ideals and attitudes.  Writing the reflections every night as a blogging challenge probably does not give each idea much time to sink in.  But now they are recorded.  They are a collection that I can review over time; I can revise, rewrite, and continue the reflection-learning-practice cycle of self-improvement.  Reading past posts reminds me of where I was then, which allows comparison and contrast to today.

I am, still and always, me.  I’m also always learning and changing.  Reflection helps me to know myself better and more deeply, to claim and exercise my authentic agency in service of the causes that matter to me.  Reflection keeps me focused on my Why.  In the coming year, it will help me identify, refine, and enact my next Just Cause.  Very exciting!

But maybe the best part is that reflective practice is not a solitary activity.  When I have any opportunity to get feedback from those whose perspectives I respect, the learning is that much deeper and more meaningful, even (especially) if it challenges and agitates me.  People mirrors do not always show the reflection I want, or the self-delusions I believe–they call me out.  But sometimes they show that I’m living exactly and fully in my integrity and values.  Both are equally valuable.

So I will continue looking for reflections everywhere.  They keep me honest, and that makes me better.

November 28:  Gratitude Makes Me Better

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NaBloPoMo 2019

Haha, DUH!

How cliché to write about gratitude on Thanksgiving, right?  Kind of feels like professing love on Valentine’s Day.  At the same time it’s nice that we have a day designated to acknowledge all that we are thankful for, it also feels a bit contrived, perhaps?

But seriously, gratitude really does make us all better.  Read more about this here and here.  In summary, practicing gratitude seems to correlate with improved physical and psychological well-being, better sleep, increased empathy and self-esteem, and decreased aggression.  But how do we feel this on a daily basis?

As some of you know, I started a daily thank you note practice in January.  I’m proud to say that on average, I have written at least one note per day since I made the commitment.  Occasionally a few days go by and I write none.  But many days I write multiple.  I love to use my washi tape cards, but sometimes it’s an email or Facebook message, other times I post on a website or in feedback comments to a company.  It’s become a habit now.  Every day I feel gratitude acutely.  I recognize the people who make a positive difference in my life, repeatedly, reliably, and without expectation of anything in return.  My expression of gratitude connects us further, holding us all up through days of mundane grinding.  If I use my washi tape cards there’s also a flourish of color in there.  This practice has given me leave to reach out to authors, companies, people and organizations who may not otherwise know the positive impact they have on any given individual.  It feels good.

Tonight I’m grateful for so many things—nature, the most meaningful work I can imagine, all of my first world comforts and resources.  But no question, I am most thankful for people. My parents, holy cow.  My sisters, husband, children, extended family.  My friends—the family I choose.  Colleagues, students, patients.  Fellow activists and volunteers.  Challengers and worthy rivals.

I will pay more attention and reflection to this last group in the coming year.  When I accepted my new leadership role two years ago, Coach Christine had me identify my ‘allies.’  Of course all of my loving, supportive friends and family came to mind first.  But Christine also pointed out the challengers—those who vex me, the thorns in my side, the dissenters–they are also allies.  Of course!  Some of my best growth and progress is born of struggle, interpersonal and otherwise.  So how can I be but grateful for the people in my life who make it a little harder?  Whatever doesn’t kill us, right?

I hope you all had a loving, delicious, and fulfilling Thanksgiving, friends.  May we all carry some of this warmth and connection forward through the holiday season and beyond.  We only have one another.  We will not always agree.  We will all struggle.  We can only do our best every day.  Grateful for each day to try to do better, again and again.

November 24:  Alone Time Makes Me Better

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NaBloPoMo 2019

How many hours do you get to yourself at a time?  I mean not just in the shower or commuting, or to work out. I mean how much time do you get to really, only take care of yourself?  When there are no kids to pick up or drop off, no meals to plan or prepare, no immediate work deadlines, no call, no commitments?

I had 36 hours this weekend—there are about 25 minutes left.

I realized at the end of Wednesday that my irritation at fellow drivers was probably a projection of anxiety and agitation about my kids being away this weekend, each to a different place, a first experience for both of them and me.  Anxiety often manifests as anger and irritability for me.  I called forth many of my cognitive behavioral and mind body practices to manage the fear and worry, so that I could actually enjoy this amazing alone time—the first such stretch since the elder kid’s birth.

And holy cow, I’ gotta do this more often.

I will spare you the list of restorative activities!  But suffice it to say that I managed to balance sleep, music, food, productivity, creativity, solitude, and connection.  It really was a perfect rhythm.  Deep breath.  And now I’m ready for the family’s return and re-entry into life as usual, a little more relaxed and peaceful.

This year has been intense, fast-paced, and dense with learning, both personal and professional.  I think we all appreciate the idea of alone time, and we understand its importance intellectually.  But like so many things, to actually experience it first hand, for real, is completely different and profound.  I finished listening to Range this morning.  In it David Epstein describes how teams do best when members have a balance between solitary and interactive, collaborative work, as opposed to all one or the other.  Coaches know that training for any skill, be it athletic, musical, or otherwise, requires alternation between periods of sustained, focused practice and rest, time away.  New neural pathways require downtime to fully integrate.  This weekend, I was able to synthesize ideas from Epstein’s book on diversity of experience, and assimilate them with what I’m reading in Ozan’s book, Think Like a Rocket Scientist, on combinatory play.  In the quiet of an empty house, freed from rushing off to the next activity, insights arose more freely, and I connected dots to previous experiences and learning much more easily.  Today I started The Infinite Game by Simon Sinek.  More transformative ideas (simple and profound) to start incorporating into my world view and leadership practice, and to write about later—Yahoo!

I wondered if I’d be lonely this weekend… Nope, not at all.  This time alone was exactly what I needed.  Loving thanks to the family for gifting it to me.

Tribe, Community, and Mission to Connect

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Fruit for Regina’s sweet galettes.  These are tiger figs, available at Trader Joe’s. 🙂

Friends, don’t you love those synthesis/cohesion moments when all of a sudden something important to you—a passion, a core value, a project—is validated from multiple angles?  That happened for me this weekend and I am positively giddy from it!

Tribe

My new group of medical students promises to be just as engaging and fun as every other I’ve had, yay!  They are only three rotations into their third year and already wise beyond their training.  This month we discussed tribalism.  They considered stereotypes, barriers to overcoming them, and how they might lead by example.  And they identified experiences in which such barriers are already breaking down.  “Finding your people” came up as both an aspirational as well as a potentially divisive ideal.  We discussed the benefits of ‘We’re Great!’ and the risks of ‘They Suck’ attitudes.  The conversation did not veer into political arenas, but it crossed my mind.  I tried to point out how the skills of professionalism we address in medical training apply well beyond the bedside and medical teams.  Our tribal memberships can save us and also keep us from living fully.  I’m so grateful to have these reminders on a regular basis.

Community

Some of you may notice I reference Ozan Varol increasingly this year (see coda below for why I think he’s so great).  I started following him in the winter after reading his post on why facts don’t change people’s minds.  This summer I joined his Inner Circle, a private forum of diverse and like-minded folks who subscribe to Ozan’s newsletter and wish to connect.  Yesterday Ozan generously hosted a conference call for three of us to get feedback on current projects.  At 2:00pm Central Daylight Time, I logged on from Chicago.  I met Ozan and his wife in Portland, OR.  J, a Canadian, called in from the Dominican Republic, where she has lived the past 24 years.  C, an organizational psychologist interested in humane-ness in the workplace, logged on from Germany.  And R, an education leader working on emotional intelligence workshops for schoolteachers, called in at 12:00am from India.  C, R, and I presented our projects and everybody gave generous, honest, and encouraging feedback to help us all do and be our best.  I could hardly contain my enthusiasm, gesticulating wildly and barely staying in the webcam frame sometimes.

I wrote to Ozan afterward:  “I’m still wrapping my brain around what you have done here–stimulated so many people to think more critically and also openly… Convened a community of us all and given us a forum to interact, at our own pace and in our own words, from around the world… and invited us to help one another, to contribute to lives that we would never otherwise touch…  What a privilege, a pleasure, and an absolutely ecstatic experience!!!”

Mission to Connect

I think it’s fair to say that part of Ozan’s mission is to connect people.  But not just for the sake of connection—to make us all more thoughtful, curious, and collaborative beings.  A man after my own heart!

Maybe my passion for such connection stems in part from my immigrant roots?  Today my daughter and I embarked on another food adventure at home:  Onigiri and chong you bing (but ours are much easier than the linked recipe!).  The former turned out to be less labor-intensive than I expected, so we made a bunch, both salmon and chicken versions.

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Tonight’s teriyaki chicken onigiri selection

My Korean-American friend of 20 years, Regina, posted photos of her own culinary accomplishments today—savory and sweet galettes.  Mei and I may try those next!  Our ensuing text thread included my laments about the unhealthiness of onion pancakes (but oh, salt, fat, and starch—yummo!).  Her kind reply: “Making food together with your kids, carrying on food culture, bonding, it’s a win-win!!”  I knew I loved her for good reason.  And how lovely that we have stayed in touch all this time!  If not for that, I could never have recruited her to join my work team this year.  And holy cow, talk about a win-win!  Her kindness, generosity, curiosity, openness, and conscientiousness have elevated the team even higher than we could have dreamed—Thank you, Regina!  What a blessing our connection has been for so many.

My new German friend C is thinking of launching a blog to explore humane-ness and its effects and importance in the work environment.  She thinks maybe next year.  Yesterday Ozan and I both encouraged her to start now.  Asked whether I would follow, I said HELL YES.  Not only will writing about her topic develop her ideas and thesis faster; the interface with fellow readers and writers on a blog, the opportunity to join a community of thinkers, and the connection with folks from who knows where, doing who knows what amazing things, may very well yield untold treasures of relationship and development—as it has for me—so why wait?

Tonight my heart bursts with gratitude for membership in such thriving, complex, diverse and overlapping tribes.  I treasure the various communities that welcome me and give me a chance to contribute.  And my mission to make as many and meaningful connections as possible between all people stands validated and sustained once again.

Onward, my friends.  As Simon Sinek says, Together Is Better.

 

Ozan about

Why Ozan’s So Great:

  1. Humility.  So many bloggers and podcasters are so full of themselves.  It’s obnoxious.  They may have expertise and knowledge, maybe even wisdom.  But I cannot get past my aversion to their ego.  I have no such issue with Ozan. 🙂
  2. Goldilocks content.  The blogs are the perfect length!  Enough words to make his point eloquently, and not so many that I lose interest before the end.  He contacts subscribers at just the right frequency–weekly emails and biweekly podcasts.  And the newsletters are also the perfect blend of blog, quote, and other interesting material.  So many other authors inundate the inbox that I first ignore and then unsubscribe.  Ozan has really found the perfect touch.
  3. Resonance.  Though Ozan’s podcast topic is failure, what he really addresses is humanity in all of our complexity and fascinating ironies.  I LOVE that!  And he does it nonjudgmentally, always from the perspective of curiosity and learning.  I really respect that–the generosity of spirit and growth, exploratory mindset.
  4. Consistency and reliability.  Ozan is clearly disciplined and intentional when it comes to this work (and so I imagine he is also this way in life).  His podcast script has a reassuring cadence and authenticity to it.  When he says he’ll reply to all messages, he actually replies (that is what most impresses me about him–his responsiveness and how he makes me feel like I matter).  He says he will update us on something and then he does.  All in all a truly stand up and stand out guy among so many!

 

Good Doctor and Good Mom

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What do you sacrifice in pursuit of your dreams?

What does your calling cost you?

What are the returns on your investments?

* * * * *

Last week I mentioned Dierks Bentley’s, “Woman, Amen”, a song I love.  After listening to it for many days on repeat this past week, I decided to tour his nine albums this weekend.  His songs vary in topic and form, and at the same time he has a consistent style and vibe.  I like it.  Yesterday I heard his song, “Damn These Dreams”:

Now honey I know you miss me, I feel it when you kiss me

Trust me when I say every goodbye hurts

Well damn these dreams

Playin’ my heart just like a guitar string

Pullin’ me away from you and everything I really need

Well damn these dreams

Chasing that same old whiskey melody

All up and down these Nashville streets

It’s hard to look true love in the eye and leave

Damn these dreams

 

Instantly I remembered two other songs with similar themes:

 

Goodbye Again”, by John Denver:

Other voices beckon me, and for a little while

It’s goodbye again, I’m sorry to be leaving you

Goodbye again, as if you didn’t know

It’s goodbye again

Have to go and see some friends of mine

Some that I don’t know

Some who aren’t familiar with my name

It’s something that’s inside of me

Not hard to understand

It’s anyone who’ll listen to me sing

…Lying by your side’s the greatest peace I’ve ever known

But it’s goodbye again…

 

And “I Play the Road”, by Zach Brown Band:

…She says daddy where to you go

When you leave me all these nights

With a suitcase and guitar in your hand

Kissing me and mom goodbye with a tear and a smile

Where do you go? 

Daddy where do you go?

I play the road

And the highway is our song

And every city’s like the same three chords

Been helping us along when the story’s told

And the crowd is done and gone

Shaking off the miles and trying to make it home

…Mile after mile… 

Baby, I’m comin’ home

Years ago, I think it was either Dana Carvey or Martin Short who said something like one can only tolerate the life of a comedian because s/he simply cannot do anything else—they must do comedy.  If anyone can find the reference, please share!

* * * * *

As it is in music and comedy, so it is in medicine.  For many of us, we simply must do it; we have no existential choice.  These songs describe well our pain and conflict when we take call or have to work on weekends, or miss the kids’ school and sports events, and spend hours at home on the medical record or answering pages.

I recently read an article, “A Good Doctor or a Good Mom, Never Both”.  Early in this physician mom writer’s career, an elder colleague told her, “’You can be a good doctor, and you can be a good mother, but you can never be both at the same time.’”  The author disagrees, saying it’s either/or, never both, ever.  At once hearing Bentley’s song, I felt a moment of panic, mortified that I’m destroying my family for my job.  Am I totally selfish for choosing this career, and are my priorities so distorted that I so often put work before my family?  Have I chosen to be a good doctor and a horrible mom?

Thank goodness for Simon Sinek who, in his 2014 book, Leaders Eat Last, referenced a 2011 study that showed “a child’s sense of well-being is affected less by the long hours their parents put in at work and more by the mood their parents are in when they come home.  Children are better off having a parent who works into the night in a job they love than a parent who works shorter hours but comes home unhappy.”  This idea has saved me from countless episodes of self-flagellation and guilt.  It was so instantly redeeming that I recall the exact moment I heard it—I was at the airport, traveling solo, likely for a work related conference.  I can’t say I’m ecstatic every evening coming home, but I generally feel satisfied by a fulfilling day doing something I love.  I can confidently report that my husband feels the same.

I’ve attended one swim meet in two years.  I miss any school event that occurs during the workday.  I still get lost walking the maze that is the kids’ school, though we (they) have been there over a decade.  But I get to choir and orchestra concerts, and dinner potlucks.  I know my kids’ friends and am friends with their parents.  The kids’ teachers think they feel loved by us.  I think I do okay.

My kids hear me on the phone with patients and colleagues.  They know it takes time and understanding to take good care of people.  I’m confident they see and feel how meaningful this work and these relationships are to me.  And the science is pretty cool, too.  I would never pressure my kids to go into medicine, but I would not be surprised if they did.  I would absolutely encourage it, if it gives them the joy it gives me.

“You can be a good doctor, and you can be a good mother, but you can never be both at the same time.”  I respectfully agree and disagree.  You can absolutely be both, often at the same time.

 

Inclusion and Belonging

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What do diversity and inclusion mean to you these days?

Honestly for me, they mean different things depending on the context in which I think about them.  Cathy the Cynic thinks diversity initiatives too often feel trendy and superficial, like a knee-jerk response to the social pressure to check a box.  Cathy the Optimist believes that those who direct such initiatives honestly see the communal value in a truly diverse and inclusive work environment.

A wise friend recently pointed out to me that inclusion can be a challenge even in a homogeneous group.  “You could have 25 white men in a room and everybody may not feel included.”  So, he said, perhaps we should work on inclusion first, and diversity will come more naturally as a result.  Brilliant!  If we make it safe for everybody to be themselves, no matter who they are, then they feel free to bring their best, authentic selves—it’s a win-win for each individual and the organization.  An inclusive work culture supports and values each person for their unique contributions.  In such an environment, diversity is achieved because people value their differences as much as their similarities.  They live in curiosity and awe, always in a learning stance.  Inclusive cultures seek more perspectives, experiences, expertise, and backgrounds—they cultivate depth and breadth in the humanity of their workforce.  People from divergent walks of life seek to join such cultures, drawn to vibrant cohesion, synergy, and creativity.

This idea marinated in my mind for some weeks until an article from the Wharton School of Business crossed one of my online feeds last Thursday.  It says diversity and inclusion are not enough; we need to cultivate a sense of belonging in our workplaces.  The article quotes Sam Lalanne, a senior vice president of Global Diversity and Talent Management at Citigroup:  “…whereas diversity often gets linked to numbers and percentages, belonging ‘is about how you feel’ when you’re at work. ‘Do you feel valued? Do you feel like you should be there? Do you feel that your insights, commentary and perspectives matter?’”

“Rebekah Bastian, a vice president of culture and community at Zillow Group, said that the superior business outcomes often associated with having diverse teams can’t be achieved without a sense of belonging. It’s not enough to simply include people at the table, she said, but to ‘amplify everyone’s voices, clear barriers … and appreciate each other for our unique backgrounds.’ Both she and Lalanne said that a sense of belonging means that people can bring their full selves to work, and not feel like they’re a different person there than at home.”

A different person.  So what I described above as inclusion is really what these leaders define as belonging.  We want each person to feel they belong in the work tribe, that their presence and contributions are valuable and worthy, as themselves.  When we include, from our hearts, each person in their wholeness, only then will they truly belong.  And that is the sweet spot where teams thrive.

So what do we do?  How do we create such loving cultures of true belonging?  According to panelists quoted in the Wharton article (and we all know this), it comes from the top:  “Lalanne also commented on the importance of ‘tone at the top’ toward fostering a sense of belonging. ‘Our CEO, Mike Corbat, has really pushed us on our diversity, inclusion and belonging agendas. And it really comes from, what does he preach, what comes out of his mouth, how does he execute against the things that we see around us.’”  Simon Sinek calls us to live our values with clarity, consistency, and discipline.  So if you’re a leader who talks about diversity and inclusion, about belonging, then we workers have to see you, to feel you, living these values out loud and in front of us.

Belonging is more about how we are toward each other than how we act or what we do, which is inclusion.  This is the key to successful ‘diversity and inclusion’ initiatives—they must be sincere.  Humans are intuitively social animals.  We smell insincerity and reject it, because it is unsafe.  We cannot trust it.

A garden of belonging must be grown organically.  There are no shortcuts.  It takes time, and the gardener must tend it regularly.  Young seedlings require protection from weather and predators.  She must bring in pollinators and other helpers—one person cannot do it all.  So we can all pick up a trowel and participate.  We look to our leaders to set the path, and when we see the shining hope of our collective destination we follow willingly, eagerly, and together.

Humanity

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NaBloPoMo 2018: What I’m Learning

I have festered all day drafting this post in my head.  Procrastinating.  It’s still a jumble, so I’ll give it my best shot:

Donald Trump is a human being.  As much as I want to hurl epithets and lob rotten tomatoes at the television every time his face appears, or take a sledgehammer to whatever device I hear his voice on, I know these are unproductive responses to the emotions he triggers in me.  Breathe.  Must. Do. Better.

Ever since the 2016 campaign started in June of 2015, three and a half years ago already, I have felt an almost daily rage like nothing in my life yet.  I’m happy in some ways to report that it has not improved—I have not normalized this aberrancy of an administration.  But the constant animosity is not good for my health.  And the escalating divisions and vitriol between various groups of people, ever more visible on phone cameras and instant video, erodes our humanity every day.  I think I’m also increasingly sensitive to it all now.  On one hand I’m glad because awareness of humanity, and opposing those who diminish it, is good.  But again, it costs me.

Donald Trump is the personification of dehumanization (oh, the irony).  Some may feel this is an exaggeration, too strong a word to use.  It is not.  He is a hardened master of this insidious craft, and we are each capable of the same, whether we admit it or not.  It starts with making people abstractions—by seeing them, even very subtly, as less than whole people with feelings and needs equally important as our own.  Simon Sinek discusses it eloquently in his book Leaders Eat Last; you can read an iteration of his thoughts in this interview.  He describes CEOs like Jim Sinegal and Bob Chapman who, in hard times, gave employees raises and decreased workers’ hours, respectively, rather than laying anyone off.  I learned during a lecture, though I cannot find the citation (Boehm, 2015?) that only 17% of healthcare CEOs take the well-being of their employees into account when making decisions.  Sinegal and Chapman sacrificed some numbers to save people, Sinek says.  Too many leaders sacrifice people to save the numbers.  Turning people into abstractions is both akin to and a step toward dehumanizing them.

I have a friend who used to criticize people, ideas, or things by saying, “That’s (he’s) so gay.”  He would deny his negative attitude, deny that he was using ‘gay’ as a derogatory term.  He would also deny that he was biased against homosexuals.  I believe he would never treat anyone badly because they were gay, let alone commit any kind of hate crime.  But ‘being gay’ was a negative abstraction to him.  It was abnormal, something to be derided and shamed—to be scorned.  His objection to the idea of homosexuality made homosexuals, as a group in his mind, less than.  I think we all do this more often than we know.  I wrote about it last year, describing how doctors in different medical specialties talk about each other in pejorative stereotypes.  We dehumanize each other every damn day.

Brené Brown describes this clearly in her book Braving the Wildnerness:

Dehumanization has fueled innumerable acts of violence, human rights violations, war crimes, and genocides. It makes slavery, torture, and human trafficking possible. Dehumanizing others is the process by which we become accepting of violations against human nature, the human spirit, and, for many of us, violations against the central tenets of our faith.

How does this happen? Maiese explains that most of us believe that people’s basic human rights should not be violated—that crimes like murder, rape, and torture are wrong. Successful dehumanizing, however, creates moral exclusion. Groups targeted based on their identity—gender, ideology, skin color, ethnicity, religion, age—are depicted as “less than” or criminal or even evil. The targeted group eventually falls out of the scope of who is naturally protected by our moral code. This is moral exclusion, and dehumanization is at its core.

Dehumanizing always starts with language, often followed by images. We see this throughout history. During the Holocaust, Nazis described Jews as Untermenschen—subhuman. They called Jews rats and depicted them as disease-carrying rodents in everything from military pamphlets to children’s books. Hutus involved in the Rwanda genocide called Tutsis cockroaches. Indigenous people are often referred to as savages. Serbs called Bosnians aliens. Slave owners throughout history considered slaves subhuman animals.

Again, you may think that I over-exaggerate here.  What’s the big deal, you say, when surgeons say internists wear flea collars (stethoscopes)?  Or when Trump calls Mexicans criminals and rapists?  When he calls women dogs, Miss Piggy, and Horseface, you say, it has no real effect.  Sociology begs to differ.  It is a slippery slope from thoughts to words to action, and Donald Trump has poured oil on the Slip ‘n’ Slide by the bucketful.  Don’t believe me?  How else could we countenance forcibly separating toddlers from their parents when they arrive on our doorstep, fleeing violence and seeking asylum, sending the children across our country and deporting the parents, with no intention of ever reuniting them?  If that’s not dehumanization I don’t know what is.

Once again, Brené Brown says it much better than I:

Today we are edging closer and closer to a world where political and ideological discourse has become an exercise in dehumanization. And social media are the primary platforms for our dehumanizing behavior. On Twitter and Facebook we can rapidly push the people with whom we disagree into the dangerous territory of moral exclusion, with little to no accountability, and often in complete anonymity.

Here’s what I believe:

  1. When the president of the United States calls immigrants animals or talks about grabbing pussy, we should get chills down our spine and resistance flowing through our veins. When people call the president of the United States a pig, we should reject that language regardless of our politics and demand discourse that doesn’t make people subhuman.
  2. If you are offended or hurt when you hear Hillary Clinton or Maxine Waters called bitch, whore, or the c-word, you should be equally offended and hurt when you hear those same words used to describe Ivanka Trump, Kellyanne Conway, or Theresa May.
  3. If you’re offended by a meme of Trump Photoshopped to look like Hitler, then you shouldn’t have Obama Photoshopped to look like the Joker on your Facebook feed.
  4. When we hear people referred to as animals or aliens, we should immediately wonder, “Is this an attempt to reduce someone’s humanity so we can get away with hurting them or denying them basic human rights?”

When we engage in dehumanizing rhetoric or promote dehumanizing images, we diminish our own humanity in the process. When we reduce immigrants to animals… it says nothing at all about the people we’re attacking. It does, however, say volumes about who we are and our integrity.

Dehumanizing and holding people accountable are mutually exclusive. Humiliation and dehumanizing are not accountability or social justice tools, they’re emotional off-loading at best, emotional self-indulgence at worst. And if our faith asks us to find the face of God in everyone we meet, that should include the politicians, media, and strangers on Twitter with whom we most violently disagree. When we desecrate their divinity, we desecrate our own, and we betray our humanity.

So I resolve to stop participating in the erosion of humanity.  When I hear dehumanizing language from anywhere, especially among my own tribes, I must resist the urge to respond in kind.  I will look for opportunities to call it out.  It is so damn hard, I feel so often like a pressure cooker waiting for the valve to release.  So I must practice patience, kindness, mindfulness, deep breathing, and all of the habits I reviewed here yesterday.  I must find it in myself to always hold another’s humanity as sacred as my own, even (especially?) the people I despise the most.  It will be a lifelong exercise in discipline and agape love.  As the Obamas teach us, we must stay Fired Up, Go High, and Be the Change.  I can do this.  Donald Trump is a human being.