On Beginning to Unpolarise Myself

I am almost fully convinced that it is only through relationships that sustainable change is going to happen. Even the big, systemic, kind of change. I understand that this realisation was simply the lived reality up until the dawn of this increasingly lonely internet era. Thanks to the world wide web, data plans, and cell phone towers, within the course of an hour after an event happens, media has 7-word headlines, 20-second clips, and 140-character tweets circulating for everyone to share, make instant opinions about, polarise, and re-share. For me to post or discuss an event from seven days ago is “so last week”, a phrase which is an insult in this ever quickening world. It is only in this world that we have to remind ourselves that relationships and connection are at the core of being human, intangibles that facebook “likes” and reshares won’t feed. And so, as we are in this world, I seek to remind myself and my readers that relationships and connection are at the core of being human. And this is where change happens. And change is needed.

I shook my head as I listened to Senator Marco Rubio talk about guns at the CNN Town Hall, but I think he was right in his observations of the true state of our polarised nation in his opening address:

“We are a nation of people who have isolated ourselves to only watch channels that tell us that we’re right. We’re a nation of people that have isolated ourselves politically and to a point where discussions like this have become very difficult.”

When disagreement is present, we -- myself included-- suddenly becomes experts, polarisation is established, and we don’t move forward. The loudest voices and the most sensationalized stories are heard and shared, and while we make rage remarks on facebook and judge either those biggots or those godless (pick your appropriate insult), meanwhile the rich continue turning their money into laws.

I can make clever facebook posts and snide quips in conversation, but it is too much work and vulnerability to let my guard down and keep both myself and ‘the other’ human (we have emotion, we desire to belong, we are worthy of love, we want to be known).

To use Christian lingo, I was convicted of this sin last year. When Trump first won, I seethed. I mourned. During one school chapel, I left to sit in the bathroom and cry, amazed at how little the missionary community seemed to care about systemic issues, feeling betrayed that 81% of white evangelicals -- what I considered “home” growing up-- would vote for Trump. By the time he became president and enacted the first Muslim ban, I had closed myself to conversations with others in real life, partially due to my workload and introversion, but a lot due to fear and anger. That night of the Muslim ban, I stayed up all night, reading, learning, and also chatting with my soon-to-be boyfriend. In fact, I can't even give myself credit for the conviction of sin, as he was the one who pointed out my ways. After patiently listening to (er, reading) me complain and question Trump and White Christians, he called me out: “How ironic," he said, "it seems to me that you're asking questions but not talking about it with people.”

That was when I knew that a relationship with him would be good for me.

That was also when I realised that though all my heart wanted to return to America and join marches and church conversations, I needed to present right where I was. If I cannot be present and engaged with the very people in front of me, why would I think I can do that very same thing somewhere else?

I haven't done too well in being present to others beyond my work responsibilities in this last year. But this last year has contained a lot of growth for me in regards to my perfectionism. I’ve learned to show so much grace to myself while repeating the mantra “I am already loved; there are no points to be earned.” With life-threatening gun laws now being discussed and solutions such as arming teachers being tossed around as solutions, I am finally ready to start planning coffee dates, engaging in relational dialogue around important issues, and opening myself up to understanding the stories of how people have come to where they are. All the while repeating to myself my new mantra: “they are already loved; they have no points to be earned.”

Write Something

I haven’t written in a while. And by “written”, I mean “written publicly”.

Because I’m waiting for the right atmosphere when the cup of coffee is still cooling down enough to drink and the candle’s scent is the exact one I wanted from Target. When inspiration has come in so gracefully and yet insistent that I use that exact moment to write and publish because I have the confidence in the inspiration being beyond myself and of worth to share with others.

Because if I do any writing in my free time it should be to update my supporters and remind them that I am, in fact, quite grateful for their prayers and finances and care across the globe as I live in a missionary world on the other side of the ocean.

And similarly, because my work contract is combined with a belief statement and so much of my ponderings and queries directly confront colonialism, the purpose of scripture, and sexual morals beyond what I’ve seen my evangelical community able to handle.

Because it is too easy to publish words and the new president of the my country posts words so frequently, with such little care, and with such immediate and ebbing responses that I, more often than not, don’t see the purpose in putting more words into the world wide web. And with click bait and numbered lists littering the internet, why would anyone want to sit and read paragraphs that include words in which a dictionary is required?

While a part of me argues that not posting my writing for these reasons and others have immense benefits, I know that when I weight the pros and cons of my excuses and the benefits, I need to just write something. And post it. Because I claim a love of words and sharing and growing. Yet I don't do the everyday hard work of the 2 shitty pages a day; the hard work of showing up even when I feel a lack of inspiration. So here’s to doing away with my common excuses and challenging myself to write more, even if it is just something.

2017 was about “presence”, for me, and 2018 is about “presence + enoughness”. So while I am working to take down the high expectations I have of myself and others, and instead being welcoming and accepting of who I am (and hopefully extending that to others), I think I need to keep a high bar to practice the discipline of regularly writing something. Even when there is no coffee in my hand or inspiration that has followed me around all day.

Maybe my “write something” will lead to someone else who needs to “read something”, but if not, that will still be enough. So this year I am going to try and just write little somethings, write what’s on my mind, not trying to analyze neither my voice nor purpose, with this blog and its few readers as my witness.