I am a bigot.

A professor once told me the first, and the most important, step in eradicating racism, sexism, gender role oppression etc…is to first acknowledge it in yourself and constantly work on it. Whether it’s you acting or thinking in a discriminatory manner towards others, or yourself, we all have prejudices somewhere within us. How can we not? Our histories and lives are filled with all types of prejudice; even saints or respected figures had them ie Gandhi, Mother Teresa, MLK, Nelson Mandela etc…Mandela himself owned up to that.

So I’m always uncomfortable around self-righteous types who point the finger a lot but never look at themselves. When people judge too much, I wonder what they are repressing and thus projecting. I don’t trust them. I think most don’t, hence we roll our eyes at “do-gooders” sometimes. Many don’t feel they’re coming from an authentic place because they are not – they are annoyingly, hypocritically “holier than thou” acting out roles rather than being themselves, and coming from an honest, inspired, heart-filled place. The ones who are legit, however, like Mandela – we feel inspired by.

I get it because I was once like that myself – not just with societal issues but personally – until I realized I was so motivated by fear and sometimes societal definitions of “good”, “acceptable” “perfect”, I wasn’t really growing or self-actualizing as a person. I felt so trapped. And like a disgusting hypocrite, I was afraid others would find out the darker side of me, the side that believed more in certain prejudices or was weaker than I would outwardly convey.

Honestly, because I was like that, I thought everybody was too – politically correct, perfect beings on the outside, but not so much on the inside. I felt pretty bitter, guilty, and inferior – a huge fraud. But to admit this would make me look bad, so I tried to pretend these things weren’t there. I was so ashamed, but I had no way to communicate or deal with it, so I projected it outwards and got even angrier and judgmental of others. And I most likely alienated and turned off more people.

Now I’m more self-aware and comfortable in my own skin, I’m not like that anymore, or at least am not most of the time. And I’ve noticed now in my own life – and others experiences – that people tend to listen to and respect those who have the courage to own up to their intolerance than those who are always angry and fail to look in a mirror. Judgment, labels, self-righteousness, the words “You are so this and this”, “People, or this group, are sheep, lazy, complacent, dumb, ignorant, self-absorbed” doesn’t really do a whole lot when trying to resolve issues. It just creates shame and guilt, and as anybody with an understanding of psychology knows, those are the exact emotions people do anything to avoid – and thus will avoid anything that triggers it off, whether through avoidance or anger.

A lot of people are generally loving and caring, willing to listen, learn, grow, and change when you communicate to them from a down to earth, humble, understanding, problem-solving way/approach. Or at least that is my experience and observations. It’s just all about honest communication and self-awareness.

Representation

One woman’s/man’s views ≠ all women’s/men’s views.

One LGBTQ individual’s views ≠ all LGBTQ’s individuals views

One *insert cultural/religious/socioeconomic group here* views ≠ the views of all *insert cultural/religious/socioeconomic group here* viewsWhy? Each man, each woman, each poor person, and so on is different. Why? Each are ultimately individuals with unique experiences.It is impossible, ultimately, to be a true voice for all groups or even people. Not even the most immaculately-designed research in the world can claim to be fully representative.This sounds really obvious, but it isn’t. I often read articles about people claiming to represent entire groups, sometimes of those I belong to, but I cannot relate at all to despite the fact they claim to speak for me. Then there are times I most certainly can, but many from the same groups I belong to do not.

For example, I am a woman and I think and talk a lot about gender issues. And while sometimes I spout certain views I know many women agree with, or from my own personal experiences, I still cannot sit here and say I speak honestly on behalf of all women. Because I am not (sorry Whitney Houston, RIP) “every woman.” My experiences derive from my unique life circumstances that differ remarkably from another woman’s. There are many who disagree with my views, and they have every right to being women themselves. Their voices are as legitimate as mine, even if I may disagree passionately with them.

But sometimes I meet people who, when trying to argue a point, bring up certain individuals who agree with them from that group. Or they state they are a woman/from that religious group etc…as if that rests the case. When it doesn’t at all. Be humble enough to realize your life does not represent everybody else’s, not even your sister’s, the most genetically alike to you.

I think it bears reminding because it is easy to forget that each individual is different; we cannot always claim to know what they are thinking, or who they are, what they feel and believe, simply based on the group they come from. Sometimes we can have a good, general idea, but never the whole. And that is because each individual is more than the boxes the world artificially constructs for them.

When we forget that the tribe one hails from does not fully represent one’s life, we forget to truly listen and hear another person’s voice. Sometimes, we can even forget our own in all this group identification. We cannot truly be there for another if they need help. We cannot authentically connect. We can even end up imposing our own will onto them because “it worked for one person from your group/country/gender etc…”, so it should work for you.

Just take down your preconceived notions from time to time and hear another out.

Understanding the “Privileged”

Another piece I wrote for The F-Word UK: http://www.thefword.org.uk/blog/2014/07/understanding_the

Individual #1: Racial minority, woman brought up in a single-parent household with a deceased Dad, experienced financial hardship as a young child.

Individual #2: British citizen, well-educated, from a loving family, raised in some of the world’s safest areas, no physical impairments, middle-class upbringing.

It’s easy to identify which is the privileged one, yet they both describe the same person: me.

For a long time, I identified more with the first description. While aware of other types of privileges, the predominant in my mind was wealthy white male heterosexual privilege. Consequently, I was on the losing side.

That is, until I had a conversation with a white male heterosexual friend about race and gender. We discussed the concept of wealthy white male heterosexual privilege, which he found offensive.

I initially felt anger, but as he was my friend, I thought I’d calmly explain why he was wrong to feel offended. I elaborated by talking about how white male privilege adversely affected my life.

My friend listened compassionately, and seemed shocked.

“I’m so sorry to hear about that. I knew before that it’s hard to be a woman and an ethnic minority, and wasn’t trying to say it wasn’t, but I get it now. I am so sorry.”

I felt pride and asked if that helped him understand his privilege.

“Well, I still feel there’s something wrong I didn’t communicate well before. It’s more the way it’s often spoken about,” he replied. “I feel there’s this underlying assumption many have when they speak of the concept. Like that because I experience privilege as a white heterosexual man means I have the overall better life, when that’s not the case.”

He went on to talk about his past. He’d experienced tremendous poverty and abuse growing up. He felt he suffered from depression, but never asked for help due to the stigma he felt as a man he’d receive for it.

It was now my turn to feel shocked. All I’d known was his current situation – in which his family was wealthy – and the image he conveyed: tall, confident, and muscular.

It made me re-consider my belief that because I was less privileged in some ways, I had the worse life. While I lost my Dad at a young age, I lived a safe, stable middle-class upbringing. As a child, my supportive family and education-oriented culture taught me to value academics and family. My friend, on the other hand, suffered from neglect, experiencing brief stints at foster homes and street fighting.

It was like I’d created this mental hierarchy measuring people based on privilege, rich white men and women were further up, and thus had greater lives. When I realised I was more blessed in some ways than my friend, I saw how flawed that logic was. After all, I hadn’t had it easier than him in life overall just because I grew up with love. I’ve battled with emotional health issues, some actually indirectly a result of sexism, racism, and my socioeconomic background.

Yet I also asked for and received mental health treatment because I knew my family would help me. Reflecting on it deeper, I likely also benefited from the fact it’s societally more acceptable for a woman to ask for help than a man.

I realised what my friend was saying: just because you’ve the upper hand in one area of life doesn’t mean you’ve the happier life. Nobody’s immune from pain, no matter her or his gender, race, or wealth. After all, depression and suicide can affect anybody.

My heart softened. I learned an important lesson: if one wants real understanding between the sexes, or even non-white feminists and white feminists- we’ve got to respectfully talk and call somebody out on their privilege. The intention has to be to promote unity rather than separation, which is more likely to occur when one communicates as opposed to aggressively confronts.

In similar past situations, I’d get mad. Why should I “respectfully” educate and listen to him when I feel disrespected? It shouldn’t even be my responsibility as a non-white minority to teach him in the first place.

Yet because of structural racism, the average person isn’t taught about these concepts. I myself didn’t know about white male privilege until university. Is it really productive to get mad at him personally, taking out what is actually my anger at society, for being born into a world that didn’t teach either of us better earlier? Wouldn’t it be more productive to instead respectfully explain it to him and hear him out, given people usually listen when they feel heard?

It turned out it was. That day my privileged white male friend became an advocate for women and racial minorities’ rights, and I became a better human being.

Blackfish

Watched the CNN documentary Blackfish via Netflix which slams Seaworld for their unethical practices towards both their whales and employees.

It made me think: some ways we treat animals reminds me how the colonies, non-whites, women etc…have been treated. We fear the different so we control, break, and make small – attack, weaken, objectify or make cute, a source of entertainment – so the seemingly intimidating and threatening become manageable. That is, until they naturally rebel and go “crazy”. Then we slap the word “psychotic”, “criminal”, “savages” and inflict other labels onto them. But that is another story…

A neuroscientist from the documentary said whales and dolphins have more complex brains than us with a very developed sense of self, intelligence and family bond. The part of the brain that controls sensitivity and emotions in them is actually more developed than it is in us!

So when you think of the implications of that – that they are psychologically in some ways more sensitive than we are – us throwing them into tiny tubs for our amusement, making these very strong predatory but also very social creatures our little cute toys and clowns, completely isolated….well, it makes sense the creatures held captive have attacked and killed trainers.

I highly recommend this film to all and encourage my friends to never go to Seaworld again. I am re-thinking zoos too and want to learn more about these kind of issues.