I witnessed a fascinating exchange this week. ABC’s “The View” hosts were again passionately bantering — this day about the evolution and effects of racism — when Whoopi Goldberg and Rosie O’Donnell seemed to somewhat tear into one another. O’Donnell boldly made the comment that “you don’t have to be black to know what racism is!” Goldberg immediately fired back, “Yes, you do!”
I find that fascinating. I mean, I get it. I really get it. I get that when we have a unique scenario or hardship in our life, we conclude that others who have not the hardship do not comprehend what we do — that others are actually incapable of understanding. Those who have been oppressed by racism, for example, have experienced a plight that others have not. It’s a plight that hurts… that’s hard… that comes with a unique set of challenges. We must not diminish the plight of another even and especially when different than our own.
We’re tempted, no less, to reserve that lack of comprehension distinction in other areas…
You don’t have to be an atheist to know what unbelief is…
You don’t have to be adopted to know what rejection is…
You don’t have to have cancer to know what suffering is…
You don’t have to be a single parent to know what loneliness is…
You don’t have to be gay to know what discrimination is…
You don’t have to be poor to know what sacrifice is…
And still many of us adamantly respond: yes, you do.
Like I said, I get it. I get how we conclude that someone who shares not our circumstances or life stage is incapable of comprehension. To the Intramuralist, that’s a logical conclusion. It’s also a conclusion I’m thankful to have not always made.
Once again on Thursday, I referenced the wisdom of my youngest son. Yes, Josh is pretty amazing. He’s a growing, budding, delightful young teen who seems to be sprouting in wisdom in a whole new way. He has changed the way I think, and he has challenged me to grow in areas I otherwise would have missed. Josh has Down syndrome.
When Joshua was born 13 years ago, I remember quickly connecting with other parents of kids with such a special need. We somewhat flocked to one another, as we shared a similar, obvious plight. My sense was we were able to more immediately empathize with one another, recognizing that each of us faced a shocking loss in the expectations of who our children would grow up to be.
While I’ve come to realize as a parent that we have to alter the expectations for each of our children (with Josh, that change was simply forced at birth), I learned something else at the time which I believe was also especially wise…
While flocking to those with like scenarios was comforting because I knew they understood, it was wrong of me to assume that those who did not share my circumstances were incapable of understanding. The longer I clung tightly to my bubble of disbelief — that similar experience was the only means to comprehension — the longer I was challenged to grow outside that bubble.
Friends, there is no judgment in my words. Like I said, I get it. I get it. It is tempting when we experience a plight that hurts, that’s hard, and that comes with a unique set of challenges, to conclude that no one else gets it. The added challenge is that we then widen the division with others, and end up bantering and shouting and making assumptions — instead of ever positively and productively dealing with the issue and emotion at hand.
Respectfully… never with shouting…
AR