I found shared humanity by engaging those different from me
At the age of 7, waiting expectantly to board the Disneyland monorail, my mother informed me Walt Disney hated Jews. So much for Disney magic.
She delivered this information matter-of-factly. One more piece of evidence to support her parenting thesis of, “They will come for us” — a lesson she proffered as far back as I can remember. Mom was vague about the date and time of this reckoning. As the monorail crossed above The Magic Kingdom, I searched for emergency exit routes, hoping to survive the day.
Years later, I revolted against the intolerance she presumed. I began engaging directly with purported enemies. Friendships, dating choices and travel destinations placed me face-to-face with people I had been taught to fear or peremptorily dislike. Most encounters arrived with uneasiness, but ultimately morphed into satisfaction. A combination of relief my mother had been wrong and the documented release of a neurochemical cocktail from positive social interactions.
A test of my resolve arrived in the form of a demure, older German woman who had enrolled in a French class I was taking in Provence. She and I built a friendship by traveling in her vintage Mercedes sedan through the French countryside where we explored villages, practiced our broken French, and shared stories. After she revealed her late husband had flown for the Luftwaffe during the war, I faced what felt like my Sophie’s Choice. Ultimately, I abnegated my mother’s belief system, and instead chose my own.
Discovering shared humanity in encounters with people unlike me became my chosen profession. As a research facilitator for Virginia Beach marketing firms I’m tasked with finding the emotional underpinning of opinions and beliefs. By necessity, I’ve acquired the ability to initiate conversations with strangers and replace judgment with curiosity. Most importantly, I’ve learned how to listen compassionately. Rarely have I conducted research without feeling moved by conversations with former strangers.
Far too many of our interactions are influenced by anticipatory prejudice. Tribalism governs decision-making like a wicked Disney character who insists she’s the fairest of them all. Yet, the ability to rewrite the mythfilled space between oneself and others begins with little more than simple human exchange. Accessible to all of us.
Hunger for the renewal of civility and connections that hold us together crosses political, community and demographic boundaries. Evidence is everywhere. Books and podcasts on conversation. Programs such as “Together We Dine” and “One Small Step” promote discussion about our differences. UCLA houses a think tank on kindness. Even the hand painted “Empathy” signs nailed to telephone poles in my neighborhood speak to our mutual longing to engage more gently.
The conversations I’ve facilitated through non-profit KindWorks demonstrate the commonality of exclusion. From Afghans seeking safe harbor to middle school kids in gym class, otherness seems pervasive.
Yes, climate change, poverty, hunger, the depravities of despotic leaders and myriad other wicked issues need to be addressed. Nor am I blind to the fact that systemic disadvantages and expressions of intolerance occur regularly. Regardless of one’s direct experience, news reports and social media threads fuel our outrage, which feeds the cycle of incivility we’re witnessing. I’m not pretending this prescription of reaching across perceived divides is curative on any grand scale.
I do contend it’s essential if we’re going to address concerns that demand collaboration and compromise available only through civil discourse.
Admittedly, I missed out on the wonders of Disney as a child. Listening to children sing “It’s a Small World” from a boat in 2 feet of water was my idea of adventure on the high seas. It still appeals to me. But the magic of building bridges out of words and changing anger into acceptance has more than made up for it.
Julie Garel served as chief curiosity officer and senior strategist for BCF and now consults with other Virginia Beach communications firms. She divides her time between Virginia Beach and Bethesda, Maryland. Email her at juliegarel@me.com.