As a former librarian and a lifelong reader, I’ve always used stories to make sense of the world. The heroes and heroines I read about become my friends, their triumphs and failures a reflection of my own. I’m certainly not alone in this; this is a universal truth. Further, people remember information easier when shared in the form of an anecdote. That’s why ancient civilizations have used storytelling as a means to convey their history, passing stories down through subsequent generations. Stories provide context to understand and appreciate on the deepest level.
Everyone has an interesting origin story and when we listen to understand rather than listen to just reply, we connect to others in an authentic, meaningful way.
This blurs the line between speaker and audience, bridging the gap between opposites and reminding us that separation is an illusion. In the same way that we relate to fictional protagonists, we can relate to other human beings by listening to their story. Knowing someone’s story humanizes him or her. Listening requires our participation, a showing up, and a commitment to healing the schism that exists.
Isak Dinesen reminds us that, “To be a person is to have a story to tell”. Sharing personal narratives is incredibly healing. We’re all guilty in some way of cultivating a polarized, divisive community, creating a world of “us” versus “them” by relying on snap judgments. Using snap judgments without truly getting to know someone is how racism, misogyny, and homophobia persist in our culture. It is delusional to believe “they” are the sole perpetrators of prejudice and “we” are shameless in the current culture. We’ve all, at some point this past week, spoken out of fear. We need to see people as individuals, not by who they voted for. That sort of reductionist thinking won’t heal us as individuals or as a community.
All week, I’ve been asking people on the other side of the political fence to help me understand their views. I’ve been doing this face to face, as I encounter friends or strangers and the topic arises (and it hasn’t taken long for the topic to arise). After hearing their stories, I freely and gladly admit that most of these people do not seem racist, misogynist, or homophobic. They do feel unheard and unseen, left out of a prosperous economy, frustrated by their meager wages and lack of affordable health care. I personally know several friends an family members who voted for a candidate I consider repugnant. That makes them repugnant, right? Not so fast. The inconvenient truth for me is that these people are loving, generous people. They’ve proved this over the years by their actions. They cast their vote based on what they felt was in the best interest of their loved ones and selves. Just like each and every one of us who entered that voting booth last week.
Hearing someone’s personal narrative triggers empathy, promoting compassionate conversation and respectful debate. When we present our views through a keyboard, we miss the human connection that encourages us to talk TO each other, rather than AT each other. The echo chamber has become our prison. I’m not suggesting we abandon our morals or back away from social justice. Of course we are being called to stand up against any sort of intolerance.
I’m suggesting that we simply listen a little bit more and talk a little bit less.
That we spend time trying to connect with those we see as “the others” so that we can strengthen our muscles of empathy and understanding. If we ever want to truly comprehend, we have to start listening more. Because when we know better, we do better and love harder. And moving forward from a place of more love and understanding is our only real choice.