I have spent some time posting on P&N often in topics which relate to race relations, police shootings, BLM, etc. I have been quite frustrated because I have felt that there is such a lack of understanding and empathy in our navigation of these events. I had even brainstormed some ideas toward that end, but I have been ambivalent toward enacting them. Much of it comes from a lack of comfort with some aggression I feel, but I think I have stumbled upon (quite accidentally) something that would help me utilize it. To wit, I'd like to share a story and see where it goes from there, as I am just one person and I can only imagine what might go on in the minds of others.
The story is my own experience, a memory that had struck me recently. I was 9 years old, and my childhood was not what anyone considered normal. My father and I in particular were quite contentious. I have learned since how good of a man he was and to love him for it, but his limitations and my temperament were not made to go together.
He was a particularly self-sufficient man, handy, loved my older brother and I, and wanted to impart his handiness on us. We had a peculiar kitchen in our house whose pantry was on a far wall in the eating area. Well, we were building a separate one near the cooking area. He was trying to teach us to put on the doors. I was not an attentive child, and I remember understanding something of how things might work together and trying to figure that out. My father, of course, was trying to instruct me on what to do. I did not have the capacity to comprehend his goals and follow the directions, and he did not have the capacity to imagine what I might be thinking behind my approach. Unfortunately, he did not also have the patience to set aside the need to accomplish the task for the sake of learning to accomplish it together. And so I could not take one false action without his redirection, and eventually he would start doing the next task for me without recognizing my attempts or even efficacy in helping and understanding. So we fought, yelled, I cried. I do remember retreating to the other pantry and shutting myself in it in the end.
The irony here is that we understood each other perfectly but did not know it. I, of course, was feeling incapable, frustrated, wanting to do well and accomplish a task and master it with my father, and pissed off that I was not recognized, my awareness not appreciated, and imagining if only he would stop and listen and consider what I was going through for 1 second we could succeed.
But if I stop to consider my dad, who wanted nothing more but to work with me, teach me, show me his love, and provide for me skills and independence I needed, how he might have felt that he was incapable of doing this, frustrated at his attempts, wanting for himself to do well and master this task, and also so angry that I was not trying to see his attempt, that if only I was aware of him wanting us to do better instead of him being my enemy, if only for 1 second I could stop and listen and consider how he felt that way.
We were exactly the same then and miles apart at the same time.
My dad passed away May 31st. In the end, we both learned I believe why we struggled so and how we were so different and exactly the same and how much we loved each other and wanted to do better, but sadly we never did much better together.
When I look at racial conflict in America today, I do not see people who do not care for each other and believe that each other are the enemies and hate each other. Some have such extreme reactions that they cannot even see what is inside, that they must resolve this conflict by making the other out to be the enemy.
But I think most of us are inherently wanting to work together, to not see each other as different, to believe that we can demolish barriers and construct a better world together. And I think we are all feeling incapable, frustrated, angry, out of control, and deeply sad that we are in such a state.
But this sense that we are feeling exactly the same is not a new conclusion. This is where the anger comes in. Why can't we just set ourselves aside for a moment and empathize, to understand what is there, to make ourselves vulnerable?
And since we do not want this divide, we try solutions. We try to eliminate the idea of being different and any actions which might mark us as different or having differential power. And I think at these are merely a fantasy compromise so that we cannot feel so vulnerable any more, to avoid taking responsibility for these feelings and our contributions to them.
But we are all doing the best we can at any given moment. This is not a bad thing. I think it is the wrong compromise, but it is not being selfish or malicious. It is born from being human and in a place where we cannot win, so we must choose the best losing solution we can.
The part that is new to me, though, is that I can suspend the anger a little bit. In my story, since I knew my dad did not deserve all the anger, in reality I was feeling quite a bit of anger to myself for failing to see his love and desire and goodness, failing to act accordingly.
But the solution could not have been to try to eliminate the power differential, to parent in such a way where a kid is expected to have full autonomy of their environment. Kids are freaking kids. They need their parents to know better. To protect. To be bigger and wiser. And also to allow them to find these abilities for themselves.
So I could not demand from myself a skill I could not possibly have possessed. I was a 9 year-old boy and my father a 50 year-old man. If he could have done better at the time, I know he would have. It was still his job to do so.
I am a white man. I had no part in enslaving Africans nor the human rights violation that followed its abolition, but I will not deny that I have been advantaged as a result of such actions. And I am feeling frustrated, conflicted, wanting to help, angry, and vulnerable. And I need to admit these things freely. And I don't think we can accomplish much by trying to abolish what makes us different, but rather to help us identify what makes us the same and work from there.
The story is my own experience, a memory that had struck me recently. I was 9 years old, and my childhood was not what anyone considered normal. My father and I in particular were quite contentious. I have learned since how good of a man he was and to love him for it, but his limitations and my temperament were not made to go together.
He was a particularly self-sufficient man, handy, loved my older brother and I, and wanted to impart his handiness on us. We had a peculiar kitchen in our house whose pantry was on a far wall in the eating area. Well, we were building a separate one near the cooking area. He was trying to teach us to put on the doors. I was not an attentive child, and I remember understanding something of how things might work together and trying to figure that out. My father, of course, was trying to instruct me on what to do. I did not have the capacity to comprehend his goals and follow the directions, and he did not have the capacity to imagine what I might be thinking behind my approach. Unfortunately, he did not also have the patience to set aside the need to accomplish the task for the sake of learning to accomplish it together. And so I could not take one false action without his redirection, and eventually he would start doing the next task for me without recognizing my attempts or even efficacy in helping and understanding. So we fought, yelled, I cried. I do remember retreating to the other pantry and shutting myself in it in the end.
The irony here is that we understood each other perfectly but did not know it. I, of course, was feeling incapable, frustrated, wanting to do well and accomplish a task and master it with my father, and pissed off that I was not recognized, my awareness not appreciated, and imagining if only he would stop and listen and consider what I was going through for 1 second we could succeed.
But if I stop to consider my dad, who wanted nothing more but to work with me, teach me, show me his love, and provide for me skills and independence I needed, how he might have felt that he was incapable of doing this, frustrated at his attempts, wanting for himself to do well and master this task, and also so angry that I was not trying to see his attempt, that if only I was aware of him wanting us to do better instead of him being my enemy, if only for 1 second I could stop and listen and consider how he felt that way.
We were exactly the same then and miles apart at the same time.
My dad passed away May 31st. In the end, we both learned I believe why we struggled so and how we were so different and exactly the same and how much we loved each other and wanted to do better, but sadly we never did much better together.
When I look at racial conflict in America today, I do not see people who do not care for each other and believe that each other are the enemies and hate each other. Some have such extreme reactions that they cannot even see what is inside, that they must resolve this conflict by making the other out to be the enemy.
But I think most of us are inherently wanting to work together, to not see each other as different, to believe that we can demolish barriers and construct a better world together. And I think we are all feeling incapable, frustrated, angry, out of control, and deeply sad that we are in such a state.
But this sense that we are feeling exactly the same is not a new conclusion. This is where the anger comes in. Why can't we just set ourselves aside for a moment and empathize, to understand what is there, to make ourselves vulnerable?
And since we do not want this divide, we try solutions. We try to eliminate the idea of being different and any actions which might mark us as different or having differential power. And I think at these are merely a fantasy compromise so that we cannot feel so vulnerable any more, to avoid taking responsibility for these feelings and our contributions to them.
But we are all doing the best we can at any given moment. This is not a bad thing. I think it is the wrong compromise, but it is not being selfish or malicious. It is born from being human and in a place where we cannot win, so we must choose the best losing solution we can.
The part that is new to me, though, is that I can suspend the anger a little bit. In my story, since I knew my dad did not deserve all the anger, in reality I was feeling quite a bit of anger to myself for failing to see his love and desire and goodness, failing to act accordingly.
But the solution could not have been to try to eliminate the power differential, to parent in such a way where a kid is expected to have full autonomy of their environment. Kids are freaking kids. They need their parents to know better. To protect. To be bigger and wiser. And also to allow them to find these abilities for themselves.
So I could not demand from myself a skill I could not possibly have possessed. I was a 9 year-old boy and my father a 50 year-old man. If he could have done better at the time, I know he would have. It was still his job to do so.
I am a white man. I had no part in enslaving Africans nor the human rights violation that followed its abolition, but I will not deny that I have been advantaged as a result of such actions. And I am feeling frustrated, conflicted, wanting to help, angry, and vulnerable. And I need to admit these things freely. And I don't think we can accomplish much by trying to abolish what makes us different, but rather to help us identify what makes us the same and work from there.
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