I’m a hater.
Never really thought of myself like this but after responding, “I hate that,” to a number of family members and friends in recent days, I just need to admit — I’m a hater.
I embarrassed to admit but I’ve always harbored a little hate. I hate mushrooms. I hate moving my clocks forward to Daylight Savings Time every spring and then back to Standard Time ever fall. And I hate being late, especially to a movie and missing the previews.
Lately, though, I’ve been feeling a little more hateful than usual:
Of all my hatred, here are the three things I hate the most these days.
#3. I hate that we’re having crucial discussions in 280 characters.
We must have deep dialogue about racism in America. We need to discuss immigration, gay marriage, and free speech.
But we can’t do that through tweets and blogs. At least we can’t do it well.
And yes, I hate that I’m adding to these “shallow” conversations through my own blogs and tweets. My hope is these written words lead to spoken dialogue for many people.
We must push through the uncomfortableness of these discussions and start talking to people different than us. That’s what I did last year a couple of times with Elena Gerstmann. Elena and I are very different yet we were able to have a civil conversation about my political choices. Was it difficult? Yes. Was it uncomfortable at times? Absolutely!
Did we change each other's mind? Yes! We both realized that the other person is likable! We may not have changed our political stripes but we did enjoy the opportunity to learn from one another.
When was the last time you calmly had a discussion with someone who thinks differently than you?
#2. I hate the dishonest conversations we’re having.
As I continue my own journey into Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging, I follow and learn from some great people on LinkedIn. Lenora Billings-Harris. Dr. Shirley Davis. Tara Jaye Frank. And many more.
I’m grateful for their DEI leadership and truly thankful for the opportunities they have given me to ask real, sensitive, and truth-seeking questions.
There are many times, though, when I’m silent, when I don’t seek the truth. While I’ve replied to many stories and posts on LinkedIn, there are many more comments I could make but don’t. I hesitate because my comments will be taken out of context, someone will read in a tone that isn’t there, or someone will accuse me of being defensive (which actually happened just recently!).
I’m extremely thankful for my conversations with Dr. James Pogue. We’ve had some wonderful discussions when I’ve asked him some very pointed questions from an old, white, male perspective. Questions that were not easy to ask with answers that were not always easy to hear. Some answers I readily accepted. Other answers I have to wrestle with some more. And a few answers I totally disagreed with.
But they were honest conversations.
Conversations that were enabled because we thought the best of each other. I didn’t have to hide or soften my comments and questions because James believed my heart was in the right place. And most of all, because James showed me grace when I said something wrong, pushed back on a statement, or admitted that I simply didn’t understand.
That’s where we must go as a society:
#1. I hate that some people reading this post will get the wrong idea about me.
That’s especially true if they stopped reading early in this post after they learned I voted for President Trump.
Over the last year or two, I’ve been called pollution and a terrorist. I’ve been compared to Hitler. I’ve collected so many verbatim quotes and tweets that I no longer collect them. I don’t think there’s an adjective or word combination that can be used to describe me that hasn’t been used already (on a positive note, there are some very creative writers out there!).
Sadly, the people labeling me with these names or making these comparisons don’t even know me. They simply call me these names based on one action — the little circle I colored in next to Donald Trump’s name.
These people don’t know what went into that vote. They don’t know how I think. They don’t know the struggle I had matching my civics worldview and my faith with a Presidential candidate that I sometimes disagreed with and often winced at when hearing or reading one of his bombastic comments.
These people who judge me for how I voted or a comment I make on LinkedIn also don’t know how hard I work to bring people together. That's the entire goal of my speaking and consulting business.
They also don’t know that I spent four years in Bulgaria leading a small English-speaking school so other Americans could work in the country. They don’t know that I paid for groceries for the person in front of me at Target recently. They don’t know how I recently donated blood, donated a Saturday to hand out Christmas gifts to those less fortunate, and donated a Sunday afternoon to sort food for a local food pantry. Would a terrorist do these things?
Bonus hate: I hate that we’re letting so many things divide us while ignoring all of the things that bind us.
Here is a partial list of things I love:
Finally, one of the things I love the most?
Writing about and delivering keynote presentations about the uniqueness of people and how we have so much more that connects us than separates us.
We need to talk about our differences. We need to talk about race, religion, gender, sexual preference, and politics. We need to explore and understand white privilege and unconscious bias. I want to understand a black man's or woman’s life and their perspective on racism. And I want to explain my life, my experiences and my feelings about white privilege without being called a racist just because it doesn’t match your definition of white privilege or because I have questions.
I’m working hard to do my part. I’m reading. I’m studying. I’m engaging in conversations with my black, Hispanic, Asian, gay, liberal, and Millennial friends.
I’m showing grace to people who yell at me, curse at me, and turn their back on me because of how I vote or how I think. And I’m asking for grace in return when I say something off the mark.
We are all together in this thing called life. How much better it is if we show each other love and offer a helping hand instead of shouting hate and shaking our fist.
Will you join me in this quest for civility and unity? Leave a comment with your thoughts about my thoughts. And if you’re in the Lewisville, TX, area, let me know and we’ll have one of those deep, meaningful conversations over a taco and margarita — my treat!
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.