Outwards

Last night, I was having a conversation with Tristan. In many ways, Tristan is 15 going on 29, an old soul. The 15’ish part of him is still learning how to navigate relationships. In all honesty, though much more weathered, so am I. But the 29’ish part of him gives him the ability to see himself and others more holistically, above and beyond the mere words that are spoken. Another thing we share in common is that we are naturally self-reflective with a tendency towards auto-criticism. So we have interesting conversations.

Last night our conversation ended with a conclusion, that in the course of our discussions and relationships with others, we don’t always have to look inwards. Sometime, often times, we should focus outwards. What I found myself repeating to him was a simple phrase, “you’re good”. Meaning many things all at once. You’re ok. You don’t need to question yourself anymore. You’ve done enough self-reflection. You don’t need to defend yourself to yourself, or to others. You’ve already taken stock of yourself. You’re good. When you’re confident enough in who you are, in what you believe, look outwards.

By looking outwards, I meant for him to understand that relationships, conversations, the things people say – they are as much, if not more, about others than they are about you. So focus on them. Get in their heads. Don’t seek their love, give your love to them. If they say things that hurt you, then yes … reflect. Assess whether there’s anything you did to hurt them, but also realize that they are just as likely to be dealing with their own issues, their own irrational behaviors. So if you can, help them. You’re good. Look outwards.

And he nodded his head, and we went to bed - each dozing off to the echoes of our own thoughts.

This morning, the themes from last night’s conversation rippled, within me, into the background conversations always murmuring in my head. Work, relationships, social issues – look outwards.

And I found myself settling on today’s topic, which is also yesterday’s topic since the time of Babel: racism.

What I found myself thinking is this – racism is not about me.

I recognize a universal truth – one that if you’re still reading this, is painfully obvious - that the value of a person is not measured by the color of their skin - just as much as one would not be measured by their height, or by the shape of their ears – each of those equally absurd.

I hope to measure people by the contents of their character, by their morals, by their ability to love and extend to others, by whatever material comprises their soul.

Racism, expressed in the world of words and ideas, is not about me. The words, written or spoken, may be directed at me, or at people who look like me. But if I have the conviction to truly think and act by the beliefs I hold true, about how a person is measured then … I cannot be a victim of another person’s racist words. I’m good – so I look outwards.

And I imagine the life of someone who excludes others based on the colors that they see, and I imagine the hatred, and I know they are missing out. They’re missing out on a world of possible relationships, on potential experiences of culture and cuisine, on conversations and laughter that could be had. Instead, they choose to let hatred into their hearts. And I feel empathy towards them, that they would choose this blindness. And I realize I could easily be them, letting hatred into my own. But I won’t. At least I hope I don’t. I’m good.

The images of the world today – on our TV screens and media feeds – it shows a world in turmoil. But I also know it’s not the whole world. I know that there are many, many of us that walk hand in hand, and take social equity for granted. Because we should. Because it’s right.

And for those that have abused their civic authorities with hurtful racist acts, I believe the voice of the people roaring in solidarity is a welcome affirmation of what is right – that we should all be treated equally, at least by those who govern and tend to this Republic.

But racism among citizens will unfortunately persist. It has, and it will.

Like many conversations and relationships, those ideas more about the speaker than those to whom they’re spoken. And those ideas – they’re not about me. I’m good. If I can help you, I will. If you accept my friendship, even better. But that’s on you.

I’m good – look outwards.

Author’s note: On the same day I wrote this, the day after our conversation, Tristan wrote his own blog of his thoughts. It’s interesting how the themes of a conversation spur into different, unique ideas. If you have a moment, please have a read of Tristan’s bloc: https://thefreesquid.weebly.com/ Thanks!