all for one, and one for all...does it work?

If you are looking for a long, fabulous book to get lost in, pick up something written by Alexander Dumas.  From an exploration of revenge in The Count of Monte Cristo, to ideas of loyalty and resistance in The Three Musketeers, Dumas studies the many ways we relate to one another.  Born in the 19th century to a French nobleman and a slave woman of African descent, his origin surely impacted his view of the classist, gendered and racist society in which he lived.  Perhaps his lineage influenced his view of belonging, of what it means to trust systems that are flawed, of how one asserts value in a society that shuns.  Perhaps his unique vantage point required him to study what it means to be an insider or one excluded, to find comrades through shared experience, to expose unjust power structures. When each of my children were infants, I read long, fabulous novels that could sustain me through late nights.  I read Dumas during the infancy of my second son, whose birthday is this week.  I found The Three Musketeers luxuriously entertaining, and incredibly helpful now for those of us concerned about how we live with one another.

Dumas’ Musketeers work together to save their Sovereign and kingdom from the evil wiles of a corrupt Cardinal Richelieu.  Their cry, “All for one, and one for all!” is part of Western culture, a cry raised by children and frat boys alike.  It offers an ethic of unity, a call for a purpose held in common, and a commitment to a cause manifested through relationship.  It is also really fun. It is fun to live in a community to which one is wholly committed but for which one mustn’t forfeit oneself.  The beauty of this phrase is echoed in the long held cries of patriots that go something like: “All for God and country!”, or even the more recent pledge of my Mighty VOLS: “I will give my ALL for Tennessee today.” For the musketeers though, the cry does not ask only for total sacrifice. Instead, it demands loyalty to a cause while promising loyalty in return.  Give your all to us and we will give our all to you. 

“The best American causes require the independent integrated collaboration of all of us.  Our belief that when we all work together we create lasting equitable flourishing has been replaced by the idea that the status quo is good for everyone and anyone who disagrees should be quiet. ”

So often our commitments require us to lose our sense of self for a cause bigger than us, but Dumas reminds us that the highest causes ensure that our best participation comes when we are “all in.”  Any cause that encourages us to divorce ourselves from our highest ethics is not a cause that promotes common welfare.  If we cannot bring our whole, integrated selves to a cause, then I would argue it is not worth pursuing. Whether about the prosperity, health, equity, safety or belonging of all, we are having conversations about how we should live together in the shared space of America right now.  Who is responsible if a member of our community falls behind?  What does society owe me, and what do I owe society? Am I my brother’s keeper? Our rhetoric often reveals a belief that I can only look out for me, because we are playing a game with one winner.  If you are doing well, I must be doing badly.  What if we listened to our musketeers instead, and started to believe that in the best societies, we can be for others precisely because others are for us?  In Dumas’ rendering, causes that protect and benefit the welfare of all do require sacrifice, but the sacrifice is contextualized by the affirmation of our entire selves, not the diminishment of me to benefit you.

Dumas’ ideal is the premise of the American ideal of democracy.  In theory, America is by and for and of the people.  It is one out of many. E pluribus unum. The best American causes require the independent integrated collaboration of all of us.  It seems to me that we have lost our way here, however. We have begun to believe that, “One for all” can only happen if “all is for a few.”  Our belief that when we all work together we create lasting equitable flourishing has been replaced by the idea that the status quo is good for everyone and anyone who disagrees should be quiet.

Perhaps we would do well to remember that we, as a nation, have protected some pretty atrocious status quos in our history.  We have learned that expanded abilities to live and speak and resist and collaborate increase prosperity.  My right to belong is not diminished by another’s right to belong.  I think Dumas might have been on to something; perhaps I am my best self when I am rooting for the interests of others.

The kids in Parkland remind me of this truth.  They are taking a terrible experience that has given them attention, and are using it to elevate the thoughtful lives of others.  They are, “all for one, and one for all.”  Last weekend, they students met with students in Chicago, who feel overwhelmed by the violence they swim around in all day.  Emma González, a Parkland student who has become a leading spokesperson for the #neveragain movement, tweeted about their meeting:

“Those who face gun violence on a level that we have only just glimpsed from our gated communities have never had their voices heard in their entire lives the way that we have in these weeks alone. We all share in feeling this pain and know all too well how it feels to have to grow up at the snap of a finger…People of color in inner-cities and everywhere have been dealing with this for a despicably long time...The platform us Parkland Students have established is to be shared with every person, black or white, gay or straight, religious or not, who has experienced gun violence, and hand in hand, side by side, We Will Make This Change Together.”

— Emma González

Dumas believed that the hardest, highest work requires collaboration, and that sacrificial collaboration creates belonging and purpose for those willing to dive in.  These students remind us that collaborating to resist a difficult status quo is happening all around us.  Will you willingly suspend your disbelief that all of us could flourish together? Will you consider believing the idea that it is more blessed to give than to receive?  Will you look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others?  Will you join me in believing that it costs very little to be one for all, and that all for all could make America great again?

the destruction of defensiveness: listening is hard

If you haven’t had the privilege of being around fighting kids in a while, allow me to reassure you: They still do, usually for ridiculous reasons. Another fun fact: Kids are wildly hypocritical. And so are we.

For instance, one of my kids is fond of calling his brothers “tattle tales.” It makes him furious when he gets outed for being less than awesome.  In his mind, no sin of his is even remotely as egregious as the act of exposing said sin to a nearby adult. He can’t deal, and it makes him not only blind to his original sin, but fuels his righteous indignation at the poor kid who reported him.  He gets mad at the conversation instead of the act that caused the conversation.  Even worse, despite his firm stance against others disclosing his bad acts, he is known to throw a brother under the bus. In other words, he who hates a tattle tale is, in fact, a tattle tale.

“While defensiveness is common, it is lazy, destructive, and selfish; we have to do better. ”

Thank God we have outgrown such childish ways, right? Not so fast, my friends.  We know that defensiveness destroys collaboration; indeed, we see how destructive it is in others.  A friend snaps at another friend, but explodes when she is called on it instead of saying, “yep. My bad.”  A subordinate at work fails at an assignment, and rather than admit it and learn, he makes excuses.  A leader who is interviewed gets the inevitable question, “Any regrets?”, and responds with deflection, doubling down on bad choices as “the right choice at the time.”  It is easy to see how ridiculous others are when they fail to listen and then reflect on how they might become healthier.  In someone else, it is easy to see the willful ignorance required to deny a bad outcome or one’s own role in it.  It is much harder to avoid defensiveness when our own relationships (or sense of right-ness) are on the line.

In the last year, voices deemed hysterical or whiny or angry by those in the American majority have been elevated.  By some miracle that I don’t fully understand, many Americans now listen to women who claim #metoo, and are wondering what can change to ensure men do not treat women as objects to be assessed, groped or raped.  Many Americans now listen to those who are pleading for black lives, and are wondering what can change to ensure black lives do, in fact, matter.  Many Americans now listen to rural voices who have lost jobs and respect, and are wondering what can change to ensure we don’t ignore voices outside the city center in planning for our future.  Many Americans now listen to the voices that claim Confederate statues actively erase important parts of our history, and are wondering what can change to ensure we recognize and hear our whole history.

But many others feel attacked when those voices utter a word.  When we hear the story of another as a personal attack on ourselves, we don’t hear those voices.  Defensiveness and listening are mutually exclusive activities. A few weeks ago I wrote about Generation Bruh, and how my white son’s response to reading about Emmett Til’s murder was disgusted outrage.  Importantly though, his outrage was laced with defensiveness.  As a white male reading about horrible violence committed by other white males, he felt attacked.  I was dismayed by his defensive response to Til’s murder, and yet it reveals the destructive and pervasive reality of defensiveness in our American moment.  If a person lives in the majority, is served well by the status quo, and has experienced a merit-based fairness in the systems of society, it is very easy to feel defensive when confronted with evidence that suggests injustice abounds. This feeling of defensiveness is heightened when the reality sets in that the people who often benefit from this abuse of power look like you. 

“Defensiveness and listening are mutually exclusive activities.”

The jump from recognizing injustice to feeling blamed for injustice is a short one for many of us.  We live in a largely segregated (and gender coded) society, and such divisions have kept us not only from having authentic relationships with each other, but also from understanding different versions of ‘reality.’  I assume that my understanding of history is the THE way to understand history, and I have no need to hear about the experience of another (especially one who might discount my understanding).  Defensive responses stem from feeling attacked, and are clear indications that many of us have one-sided historical understandings.  When confronted with diverse realities, our own perception of America is disproved as perhaps incomplete, and it is easier to react defensively than face the injustices pointed out by others.

It is quite hard to be an informed person in the United States and not know that our history, systems, institutions and laws favor white, wealthy, increasingly urban, males.  The fact that defensiveness is a leading response to this reality is absurd to me, but it also makes sense.  The weight of historical and current injustice is SO overwhelming that many of us cannot bear it.  We resort to a defensive posture out of self-protection.  Something deep within us wants to cover our eyes and ears and cry, “It’s not my fault! It can’t be true! What do you want me to do about it?”

Whether we feel overwhelmed or personally attacked, defensiveness is a privileged response.  It ruins relationships, prevents honest reflection and hurts our chances to collaborate or improve.  Rather than listening to understand the perspective of another, we end communication, absolving us from reflection, abolishing our potential need to make amends, and delegitimizing the initial problem.  As long as I respond defensively—like a child yelling, “tattle tale!”—I do not have to engage in the revealed pain of another.  I do not have to confront the histories or inequities I have erased or ignore.

I want to posit that while defensiveness is a common approach, it is lazy, destructive, and selfish; we have to do better.  My teenager is learning to make sense of the world, and I hope defensiveness is only one step in a long journey toward an awakening into his place in the world.  If we hope to offer Generation Bruh help or wisdom, we must confront our own delusions, legacies and defensiveness.  Whose histories have we erased? When do we feel attacked or overwhelmed? Whose experiences do we diminish? How do we respond to the pain of others? 

the destruction of defensiveness: generation bruh

My oldest son is a teenager, and he calls himself part of Generation Bruh. When asked to expound on what this label means, he responds with hilarious memes of people dramatically being “done.” Mildly annoyed, sarcastically dismissive, mocking the obvious, hilariously put-out…all of his examples are basically combinations of 3 sentiments: Adults are dumb; Not my problem; Boy Bye.  Nevertheless, I have reason to believe Generation Bruh knows very well that America is their “problem”, and that they only dismiss those of us who live in isolated, defensive denial about what America represents.

Last week he was reading about the violence that tragically helped bring about the legislative victories of the Civil Rights Movement.  Specifically, he was immersed in the details of Emmett Till’s death and its aftermath.  When he looked up I caught his eye and asked him how it made him feel to read this part of our history.  He looked me straight in the eye and said, “It is terrible. I hate it. And I hate reading about how, once again, white men are the worst. I’m sick of it.”  

I was stunned for a couple of reasons. His honesty shocked me.  I was also dumbfounded that his response to the senseless and vicious murder of another human was somehow defensively about himself.  Generation Bruh is done with drama. They are done hearing about all the inequities and hypocrisies of America.  But they know it is there. The challenge facing all of us is how to face the good, bad and ugly of American history and culture without getting defensive or checking out.  

“We, collectively, are raising kids who understand our country was founded on an idea of equality and dignity that we have yet to realize.  ”

Pity for white men is not an appropriate response to our racist history.  And yet, as I talked with him about his fatigue, I realized he is growing up exposed to realities of abuse in law enforcement, churches, medical offices, work spaces, churches, schools and homes.  He is growing up during the era of church sexual abuse, Black Lives Matter, and #metoo.  He is growing up in a world where the most powerful men in our country openly belittle and discriminate against women of every race, the foreign born and people of color. He is constantly bombarded with evidence that our world is unjust, and he only has to look around to see that white males possess most of the power and wealth in our country.

As a white male himself, how is he to navigate this world?  He observes abuse everywhere, and now he contextualizes that abuse with an honest historical examination of colonialism, patriarchy and a racially stratified America.  Perhaps my son is “done” with talking about the need to face historical abuse or to pursue diverse perspectives because he already does this on a daily basis (#sorrynotsorry).  I was not taught to recognize the deep tensions or hypocrisies in American history.  I was taught Columbus discovered America and the intercultural celebration of Thanksgiving was indicative of the dignifying partnerships between new settlers and Natives.  My son, on the other hand, knows that Columbus didn’t discover anything, and that the pilgrims’ approach to Natives was one of theft and displacement. 

“The challenge facing all of us is how to face the good, bad and ugly of American history and culture without getting defensive or checking out.  ”

I was taught Christianity was always a force for good, and that every person who worked hard could improve their prospects. My son knows that Christianity largely legitimized the abusive global power of Empire, and that our laws created generational poverty that hard work cannot overcome.  I was taught that education is the great equalizer, and that if kids would only stay in school they would leave poverty behind. My son knows that many communities fail kids, and that majority minority schools in our city regularly graduate kids who do not read on grade level and will flunk out of college.  I was taught that democracy is fair and that voting gives us a voice.  My son knows that voting rights are not universal to American citizens, and that gerrymandered districts have corrupted our ability to ensure effective representation.  Generation Bruh can act oblivious, but they know things, yall.

We, collectively, are raising kids who understand our country was founded on an idea of equality and dignity that we have yet to realize.  As the Grammys opened Sunday night, Kendrick Lamar rapped while black men in hoodies were systematically picked off, all in front of an American flag.  U2’s Bono and the Edge walked through the men, reminding us, “It’s not a place, this country is to me a thought, that offers grace, for every welcome that is sought.” As if they knew we Americans are not so great at hearing the truth uttered by voices different than our own, Dave Chappelle stepped forward as a translator of sorts: “I just wanted to remind the audience that the only thing more frightening than watching a black man be honest in America is being an honest black man in America.”  Generation Bruh are growing into American adulthood as the idea of America is deconstructed and resignified.  Their entire nation seems to ask: Are we, as Lincoln said in Gettysburg, “A new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal”?

Can we blame Generation Bruh for doubting, with all their eye rolling and sighing and “lookatthisdude”-ing, that we in America are “dedicated” to that incredibly obvious proposition?  A simple look at our jails, schools, tax code, neighborhoods, payroll, or welfare programs clearly reveal that we are dedicated to no such thing.  We need only listen to comments collected at random from elected officials to know that we spend a great deal of energy governing on the proposition that all people fit nicely into a society stratified by economics, race and gender.  Our kids must grapple with what America is and what their places might be in it.  My study of Generation Bruh encourages me that their attitude of “done” stems not from apathy, but from a deep security that they understand inherent equality, and the open attacks to that equality, better than we do. 

We all need to struggle with our cultural legacies, and with the particularized setting history has given us. I am intimidated and profoundly grateful to have the privilege of helping my kids position themselves as subjects with agency, even as they are contextualized by a history of often failing to embody stated ideals.  Sadly, the wide range of defensiveness I hear from adults reveals the fact that many of us have not moved beyond feeling attacked by any reference to our unjust world.  My hope is that a diverse Generation Bruh can move through feelings of defensiveness or victimization into full agency as they reconcile the America that can be with the America that is.

In the coming weeks I’ll try to help us recognize and ultimately reject defensiveness as a response to the pain of others. In the meantime, adults who interact with Generation Bruh might do well to pay attention to what they see and hear, and join them in wrestling with how to be an American adult.