How to show up differently when hatred is the easy choice
Forewarn: This article mentions sensitive topics that can trigger emotions and distress. Please read with caution and take care of your well-being.
I exited Utrecht Central station, on my way to a speaking at an evening on Regenerative Educatorship, when I noticed a big crowd chanting under the big cloud in front of the station. Of course, as is our human nature, my curiosity was sparked and I approached to check out what was going on. The crowd turned out to be an anti-protest that united in response to a seven-man-strong anti-abortion protest. At first, I was taken aback, baffled that of all places, I had to protest for the right of abortion in my home town. A town that has always felt, to me, safe, kind, open and progressive. In the Netherlands, abortion has been legalised since 1984, although unfortunately still not fully removed from the Criminal Code. It felt for a moment like being catapulted back, frustrating, because of all the things we should use our voices for today, it feels weird to speak up for a case I considered settled years ago. That said, my feelings about how absurd it is that we still have to fight for the right to our own body and choice aren’t what I wanted to get into today.
Shouting into disconnection
What stuck with me from this afternoon was not what, but the dynamic of the protest and the anti-protest. The foreman of the anti-protest was holding a large, three-meter or so, banner with the words “Family, Tradition and Private Property”; his fellow protesters played the bagpipes and voiced their views through a megaphone. The anti-protest consists of a rapidly growing line of women with quickly scribbled A4 papers with pro abortion were standing with their backs to the protesters and their banner. The anti-protest crowd was positioned, phone cameras in hand, facing and recording the whole situation. The protestors couldn’t read the anti-protestors’ viewpoints scribbled on their A4 papers. The anti-protestors couldn’t hear the protestors’ point of view over the loud and consistent BOOing of the crowd. To top it off, the police surrounded the protestors, carefully keeping them away from the anti-protestors.
Frustrated, I grabbed an anti-protest paper and joined the line of women voicing the right to decide about our own bodies. Only after half an hour of carefully listening, I finally heard what the protestors said through their megaphone, and it blew my mind, made my skin crawl and has been pestering me ever since. It even makes me uncomfortable to write it down here, but I will, as it’s one of the most telling, extreme examples of our collective inability to listen, communicate and connect. As the anti-protesters cried their boooo’s, the men with the megaphone urged us on the shouting louder as “the louder you shout, the more you are showing that your mother didn’t kill you”.
Here is a situation where two groups of people are holding seemingly opposing views, one group is standing physically with their backs to the others, the police are keeping them apart, and the line of argumentation makes engaging in conversation almost impossible. What was the purpose of all the people who united here this afternoon? If all the conditions for separation are created, how can we expect it to result in anything else than frustration, disbelief and even hatred? Why did I so easily join the booing anti-protest, knowing that disconnection and shouting matches are rarely, if ever, the way out of a conflict of views? I booed and screamed, and then, when the protest was over, I walked away, cried, shook my body like an animal in distress (as I was) and went on my way to speak about regenerative education, wondering if I missed an opportunity to show up differently to this situation of severe disconnection.
Seeking connection through the discomfort
Why didn’t I walk up to the men and ask them about their story, their beliefs and worries? Why didn’t I engage? Why did I choose the easy way out? Why are we collectively that day, and so many other days, choosing the easy way?
It’s almost impossible to hate when you truly know another being and their context; hatred is almost always the result of ignorance; this makes hatred the easy choice. No one convinced anybody of their views that day; all we did was nurture a mutual disbelief and apathy. What would have been a way that I, or we, could have nurtured connection and engagement? Not to convince, but to enhance our collective ability to converse and listen.
In that moment, anger, frustration, and perhaps even hatred were the easy choice, but the moment I stepped out of the energy of the crowd, I felt shit, so shit! I was disappointed in myself for not showing up differently. Even if my attempt to engage in conversation would have been met with silence, laughter, or vileness, I would have known I stayed true to myself, and I trusted they would remember, because, as much as you ignore it, it’s hard to forget someone reaching out to you, especially in times of deep disconnection.
Not engaging in conversation and trying to understand other perspectives leads to ignorance. The feeling that other people want to take something away from you that you deeply believe in (the right to our own body / the consequences of the sin of abortion) will lead to fear. Unfortunately, the perfect cocktail for hatred is a mix of ignorance and fear.
I have no answers here and won’t hide behind the safety of pedagogical methods that could have helped me to show up differently. I will hold this experience, and the way it has made me feel close, so the next time I walk into a situation like this, I will remember to be aware of the dominating conditions for disconnection and ask myself, How can I show up with a willingness to connect and listen? How can I nurture a condition for healing? How can I turn my skin-crawling discomfort into curiosity?
Tips, questions, suggestions, poems, anything that you feel can help me, and others, in situations like this are more than welcome!!
Seismic Questions Gathering
Dordrecht, The Netherlands - 21 Oct - 19.30 CET
What if we embody the wisdom that Love is contagious?
How may this alter the way we show up to the multifaceted challenges we are facing?
