What happens to a soul that it must constantly justify the suffering of others to maintain its own peace?
The words are from Miral Askar, a palestinian journalist, but I found them doom scrolling at 3am and read aloud by Misan Harriman, a black man; wide, strong, settled, his voice resonant with feeling. I had never come across him before but as it is with 3am deep dives, they go from Trevor Noah and some light humor on America’s idiosyncrasies to the dark real moments of now.
I have been in the USA for a month now. I arrived asking myself if it was time for me to return, if there was work to be done that I could uniquely do. I arrived looking for an opportunity to contribute or a place to land. Denver, New York, California… are these my people? I applied for roles in education and social justice, both things I feel deeply about and in some perverse way, also incredibly unqualified for. Yes, I’ve dedicated every moment of my adult life to build bridges and pathways of educational opportunities for those with less, in particular young Mexicans in families with limited resources of every kind. But, especially right now as I stand on the soil of the USA, learning to speak this specific language of social justice, I must also own that those pathways, were, and in many ways still are, just kinder evolutions of colonialism. Yet, those kids, the ones who studied in University because of my fierce advocacy that they deserved the opportunity, don’t understand the experience as an expression of colonialism, they see a life that they designed and chose for themselves.
Ahh… the lens from which you look makes all the difference.
I am struck by the ease and comfort of the lives that I have walked into here. A gorgeous new duplex, every amenity, a daily delivery of packages and gadgets at the door, hot yoga, organic food, busy restaurants with waitlists and white people, lots of us. I was in Denver to interview for a role to support leadership pathways for black, brown and LGBQT+ educators. As I scanned the packed room of us dutifully doubling our bodies into “down dog” it was evident that the black and brown leaders were not finding their renewal in class today.
New York… specifically Brooklyn, a three bedroom apartment, wood floors, giant rugs, two cats with three litter boxes. The diversity of people and realities in the street was a gift of humanity that I needed. We rode subways, we passed each other bundled up in the street, we avoided eye contact until we didn’t and I will admit that it felt like a little win if someone looked up long enough to lock eyes and nod in acknowledgement. This is America, I thought to myself with a smile that was warm from the inside.
Also in New York, I spent time with a childhood friend, his design firm with offices in the posh streets of Manhattan. We met for dinner on a cold night, “this is where people go to be seen,” he said with a wry smile. He was a regular, but I don’t think his comment was intended to show off, I think he was making fun of himself and everyone there in their perfectness. I couldn’t help but notice that every single person, even in their versions of ethnicity, every single one in this bustling restaurant of prestige, every one would pass as white. I am not sure if it was a different trip, in a different moment in time in our country, if I would have even noticed. I own that.
And now, with family in southern California, I am sitting in a community coffee shop as the locals wander in and the American flag flies outside. I just dropped off my niece at the Christian private high school, a 90min round trip twice a day for her to attend this school that aligns with the values of her family, my family. I always struggle when I am here to be with such kind, loving, thoughtful and generous people and hold the truth of who they voted for in the last election, who their worldview excludes forcefully, and in the course of history and today in Palestine, violently. There is no intentional hurt by any one of these people that I love.
I know this, but this is what is so hard for me to reconcile. What is our responsibility to think deeply, reflect deeply, about our worldview, our comfortable lives, and consider the impact? I know that the news that I choose to see, the algorithm that shows me the world on fire with fascism and social injustice, I know that this world is not the same one that my Christian family is scrolling through. I asked my college educated, liberal leaning brother in Denver if he was worried about the state of the world and his answer was, “everyone always says it will fall apart, and then it doesn’t. So no, not really. That said, I am thinking about buying a gun.”
“People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls.” – Carl Jung
During these same travels, I dipped back into Mexico for a quick keynote for 80 business leaders of Cambridge University Education, a publishing enterprise that stakes a claim in 500 years of operation. I had been asked to speak on something that might shake them up, “just a little,” I was gently admonished. I shared that systems thinking teaches us that there is a cycle, much like a life cycle for everything, even the big things, like democracy, capitalism and colonialism. I used the two-loops systems model to explain that this moment of chaos, upheaval, climate tragedies and violence reflects the decline of a worldview that is built on a global commitment to the GDP as our only measure of “success.” Our education system, following our financial system, is also in failure. The rise of suicide and mentall illness, educators fleeing the profession and students failing to find either decent work or meaning after 12+ years “learning” – all of this, just indicators of a system in failure. But even in a failing system, there is work to be done and people who aren’t yet ready to cede their power or imagine something new. In fact, in failing systems, many dig in deeper to what they know, to hierarchies that once worked, “so don’t worry Cambridge sales team, there is still plenty of business to be had.”
Yet, although seemingly too large and not ours, what responsibility do we have to own our roles in this decline? Are we willing to examine a world view that has always served (some of) us? What will it take to crack open the comfort and ask ourselves hard questions, even more so, to cede our privilege to make room for everyone?
This is what is striking me hard on this trip as I have entered momentarily into the comfortable homes of friends and family, while trying to hold open my intellectual and emotional attention to the inequities and gross injustice of daily life. How am I contributing? What can I really do? Is there a role for me in all of this? Who holds a vision for all of us? Quite honestly, I also wonder why I am feeling called to question, isn’t it easier to just look away?
The text accompanying Misan’s reel, also words of Akar, was a reminder I needed. “The most philosophical act of resistance today is the stubborn, relentless refusal to be indifferent. The choice to keep your heart soft in a world that profits from making it hard. Because once you refuse to look away, the hierarchy collapses. You realize there is no “them” and “us” – there is only the shared, fragile thread of being human.”