Willing The Good of the Other

This essay originally appeared in the Monday morning newsletter on 6/1/20.

This past week was heavy and filled with horrific events deeply impacting the black community. As mentioned above and below, I feel heartbroken, but also acknowledge that I can’t even begin to understand what others are feeling.

I know I have a long way to go with a lot of listening and learning ahead of me, but today, I want to humbly share one thing I’ve personally reflected on while processing what has happened.

I hope something in the below resonates with you. Above all, I want to listen and learn. I am always all ears for your feedback, challenges and ideas.

In college, I was involved with an organization that put on a leadership workshop for high school students. Students from across the state of Florida would travel to our school’s campus and participate in a variety of activities for a weekend. Each year, the weekend was absolutely magical. We built community, talked about leadership tools, expanded our perspectives and had a lot of fun.

But there’s one memory in particular that I’ve thought of more than once in recent weeks. It was an exercise done on the first night of the conference called “The Privilege Walk.” 

For the exercise, we would all line up in the middle of an empty ballroom with a “finish line” designated on the other end of the room. We were told our goal was to make it to that finish line. We closed our eyes and the facilitator began reading prompts. Depending on your answer, you would take a step forward, backward or stay still.  

I stepped forward for many things and I took step backs for a very small handful of things. There were also many prompts that didn’t apply to me. I didn’t take a step back when asked if I had worked a part-time job that morning or if I sometimes went to bed hungry. I didn’t take a step back when asked if I had ever been stopped by the police just because they thought I was suspicious.

The exercise ended with us opening our eyes and racing to the finish line. Although we had all started in the same place, we were now scattered and had runs requiring different amounts of effort. Some could reach the line with an easy jog and others had to sprint. 

This week I’ve felt heartbroken over the horrific things that have happened to the black community. And I know I can’t even begin to understand what others are going through. But what I can do is look at my own actions… or lack thereof.  

Once I was willing to take off my defensive and my shame armor and be real with myself, I realized something. I realized that my focus has been off. 

I’ve been focused on the distance between me and that finish line. And with that as my focus, all I see is the distance left for me to run and the people in front of me. With that as my focus, I’ve missed out on opportunities to take my eyes off the finish line, look over my shoulder and extend a hand.

Many of us have been pushed so close to the finish line or have had so many hands extended to us that we don’t even realize there’s a room full of people behind us. 

Author Austin Channing Brown writes the following quote in her book I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness (a book I am looking forward to reading):

“When you believe niceness disproves the presence of racism, it’s easy to start believing bigotry is rare, and that the label racist should be applied only to mean-spirited, intentional acts of discrimination. The problem with this framework—besides being a gross misunderstanding of how racism operates in systems and structures enabled by nice people—is that it obligates me to be nice in return, rather than truthful. I am expected to come closer to the racists. Be nicer to them. Coddle them.” 

This quote really made me take a second look at my actions. Sure, I’ve shifted my focus off the finish line and looked over my shoulder before. Or, I’ve looked over my shoulder and been nice. But it’s not enough. I need to look over my shoulder, listen & learn and extend a hand. 

Thomas Aquinas said it simply: “to love is to will the good of others.“

To love our neighbor is not to hope for the good of others. It’s not to wish for the good of others. Instead it’s to will – to take action for – the good of others.

It starts with us shifting the focus from our own path to others. It starts with us focusing on listening and learning from others and expanding our perspectives. It starts with the thoughts we cultivate, how we talk and the media we consume.

It starts with us taking our eyes off our own lane, looking over a shoulder and extending a hand from a place of love for our neighbor. 

If you still feel at a loss as to where to start, I encourage you to look to activist and artist Cleo Wade’s beautiful painting, aptly named “Where to Begin.” It reads: 

“The world will say to you: we need to end racism.

Start by healing it in your own family.

The world will say to you: how do we speak to bias and bigotry? 

Start by having the first conversation at your own kitchen table.

The world will say to you: there is too much hate.

Devote yourself to love. Love yourself so much that you can love others without barriers and without judgment.” 

– Cleo Wade 

Sadly, the painting is currently sold out. But 100% of the proceeds were going to The Antiracist Research & Policy Center, an organization that is always accepting donations (you just email the Director of Engagement)… in case her words resonated with you. 

“Devote yourself to love.” How powerful could that be, right? 

Friends, it starts with us. Let’s shift our focus from traveling our own paths to willing the good of others.

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