Equity is a practice. It is a practice of the personal and structural work of truth and transformation. This is what I help leaders and communities understand and embody as they unlearn various forms of inequity like racism, sexism, and queerantagonism. I introduce them to a 12-step process for unlearning addiction to the misuse of power. In order to do so from a place of authenticity, I had to begin my own journey unlearning habits of sexism that I didn’t even know were in me. Here’s a bit of my story, taken from UnLearn InEquity our new experiential course.
“People don’t want to be fixed; they want to be healed.” A dear friend, brother, and accountability partner of mine, Patdro Harris, has been saying this to me for decades. It’s how I used to try to show up as a teacher, but it didn’t consistently translate in other areas of life.
Like it or not, I’m a fixer. I love to tinker. I love to reverse-engineer. I love seeing the whole and understanding how it works. I have this deeply embedded notion that if someone figured out how to build it, more often than not, I should be able to take it apart, see what’s wrong, and figure out how to fix it.
Of course, anyone who’s ever bothered to take something apart knows that’s not true. Most complex things take some level of know-how. You have to know what you are looking for. If you don’t, you have to be willing to experiment, knowing you will just as often make matters worse as make them better. Trial and error.
Just as notably, a trial-and-error approach toward other human beings, though sometimes necessary, can be pretty arrogant as a primary operating principle. This was the part I couldn’t quite wrap my head—no, my heart—around. I spent years treading heavy in places that were tender for other people. In part, because they aren’t places that are tender for me. Also because of toxic masculine notions like “no pain, no gain” that I took as permission to put others through it without their consent. “It’s for their own good” excused a multitude of sins on my part.
Finally hearing the woundedness in my beloveds’ voices and in what they dared not say was only the prerequisite to repair. I had to then get over the notion that I could fix it, them, or me. I have to learn the patience of what it means to cultivate the conditions for healing and let the good come in its own time.
You can only imagine how difficult that is for someone who wants to fix things and get the immediate feedback of trial-and-error. This is where practices like gardening, routine exercise, and participating in accountability circles become so important for me. They offer me counter-rhythms to the ones that are problematic when utilized in the wrong contexts.
Pay attention to what I am saying. Being a fixer isn’t wrong. It’s just not the right tool for every circumstance one finds themselves in. “People don’t want to be fixed.” They aren’t interested in being our equity projects any more than we are in being one.
Plus, trying to fix reifies many of the very things that created the need for equity work. Fixing so often involves the power to define or the power to determine the limits of or the power to say what’s impossible and possible. These powers have their place. However, they are very different from the powers involved in healing.
As best I can tell so far, healing involves the power to name (not define) almost exclusively for one’s self, not for others—unless someone has invited you to share your perspective with them. I’ve been surprised how sufficiently taxing actually minding (attending to, taking care of, understanding) my own business is. I have a hard enough time answering variations on the question, “How do you feel?” for my lonesome. I have no idea how I ever presumed to be able to account for the motivations of someone else so regularly.
As best I can tell so far, healing also involves the power to closely observe (not determine the limits of). In both my privilege and my marginalization, I have been struck by how often people surprise me. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe them when they show themselves committed to a way of being in a particular moment. I’m just learning that what I’ve surmised, however well informed, is not the sum total of what others have to offer, given some shift in circumstance or imagination.
As best I can tell so far, healing additionally involves the power to learn what you don’t know (not say what’s im/possible). This is an invitation to keep listening, which another friend of mine, Troy Bronsink, wrote a song about years ago. It’s one of those better stories that comes back to me time and again, hopefully in those moments I’m most tempted to be a know-it-all.
On a good day, these are some of the better practices I engage in as I seek my own healing and that of those around me. Some days are better than others. I remain open to learning more—even other—as I continue to heal and grow.
Whether doing the work of equity personally or structurally the need to seek healing along with the people involved does not change. The change is in the forms personal versus structural healing take.
If you or your organization could use design, advisory, facilitation, or strategy support continuing your own equity journey—including subscriptions to our new UnLearn InEquity self-paced course—contact us.
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