Oh how the mighty have fallen. Quite often, in an effort to help, we end up hurting. Hubris and humility are the two sides of the road we find ourselves on when we are seeking to change the world. A few years ago, France passed a law banning women from wearing the hijab. The liberal, liberated country argued that it was liberating these women from oppressive cultural practices.
Help. Hurt. Muslim women were outraged. They wore the hijab by choice, they argued. It was a showing of their love and faith for their god, they proclaimed. And they were justified in their argument. France, a beacon for good, for freedom, for liberal thought, lost a lot of ground among the much more moderate majority of the liberal world.
Twins
I work hard to be a beacon of strength and liberation for women. Equality for women and people of color is my daily bread. My primary aim in life – at home, with my kids, at work, with my writing – is to help the world march into the future. And sometimes, in my zeal, I step on innocent bystanders. Me and France – twins.
Why Do We Fall Bruce?
One of my favorite quotes of all time is one I carry with me in my head everywhere. It is applicable to my students’ struggles, to my own failures, and to my friends’ troubles. We have to fall so we can learn to pick ourselves back up.
I fall a lot.
My most recent essay was an emotional one; I was fired up at the end of a long, difficult day, and I sat down to write as part of my daily writing challenge. I railed against the patriarchy; I slammed the men who joke about women’s bodies as objects, and I grumbled about a personal experience with misogyny.
Along the way, I trampled on a sister’s feelings. Not a biological sister, but a sister in the struggle for progress for women. A sister in the fight for equality, for advancement, for respect, and for love.
But I’m Right!
About a year ago I got into a fight with my actual sister, my next youngest sister, the one who is the most unlike me in many ways, and the most like me in many ways. I was so sure I was right. I was so sure I was right that I was righteous! I stood on my soap box. Firmly glued there by the sticky blood of all the enemies I had trampled on in my quest for equality and free speech, democracy and social justice!
“Okay, Shanna. Fine. You are right. There. Everyone agrees with you. You are right.” My mother says this to me over the phone after months of my sister and me not speaking. “So now you can spend the rest of your life not speaking to your sister, but knowing you are right.”
Oh. Wait. That didn’t sound good.
Shit.
Hubris and Humility
And so here is my lesson in hubris and humility. I called my sister and apologized. We spent over an hour taking responsibility for our role in the debacle. Misunderstandings and misconceptions. In the end, we both realized, we loved each other, and we wanted a relationship. We wanted our children to have a relationship.
I am so full of righteousness, so sure I am right, that I forget sometimes to be humble to the realities of my actions. I forget to humble myself to the fact that other people are just trying to figure it out. That many people who hear my railing may be personally wounded by my words.
Counterproductive
That is not my plan. Not only is that not my plan, it is counter to my mission. Yes, there will be genuinely evil people, even indifferent people, who are wounded in this war for justice and equality, but by taking an oppressive position they have chosen that fate. I cannot worry about hurting evil.
But I never want to hurt, shame, or belittle anyone caught in the crossfire, even in an attempt to “save.” My lesson in humility this time was that it is not my place to tell someone else whether they are free or enslaved to a patriarchal system. It is not my job to pass judgment on the way a person chooses to live his or her life simply because of a mission I have chosen. I cannot preach the need for safe spaces, and then not provide safe spaces.
What I Can Do
What I can do is model the behavior and the life I want for all women – rights, equality, freedom, a voice, strength. I can welcome women and people of color from all walks of life into my life, into my community, into my circle. And I can provide help, guidance, or criticism when asked for it.
And only when asked for it.
And when I fall, when I fail, when I wound, I can apologize, I can be sincere, and I can ask offer recompense. So that is what I did.
I woke up from my hubris.
And I humbled myself.