Lean In To Love

In her book, Braving the Wilderness, The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone, which we are using for our fall small group book study at Unity Spiritual Center Denver, author Brené Brown asserts that much of the divisiveness we are experiencing and sometimes engaging in stems from our unacknowledged and unexpressed pain. Further, she states “when we are in pain and fear, anger and hate are our go-to emotions.” Rather than teaching us to feel our pain and address it with love and compassion, our culture teaches us anger, rage and denial instead.

Additionally, because we are often unwilling or unable to address our own pain, we are ill equipped to acknowledge another’s pain. Rather than process the pain we feel when we do not or cannot connect with another, it is more common for us to turn away from them, view them as the “enemy” and treat them with disdain. When we view another as the enemy, we react by defending our positions and attacking them. Facing our pain and being willing to hear another’s requires us to “brave the wilderness” and be vulnerable.

Dr. Brown also speaks to the issue of dehumanization and its effects on us and our willingness to connect with each other. She refers to author David Smith’s explanation in his book, Less Than Human. He says that dehumanization is a response to conflicting motives. Further, that humans have innate inhibitions to harming another, and that dehumanizing subverts those inhibitions. When we allow ourselves to dehumanize another or a group of people, we give ourselves permission to treat them as less than human.

She cites the work of Michelle Maiese, chair of the philosophy department at Emmanuel College, who defines dehumanization as “the psychological process of demonizing the enemy, making them seem less than human and hence not worthy of humane treatment.”  Dr. Brown goes on to cite examples from history such as Nazis dehumanizing Jews; slave owners dehumanizing slaves; Hutus in Rwanda dehumanizing Tutsis, and others.

She also cites examples from our recent history. Hillary Clinton calling Trump supporters “a basket of deplorables.” Donald Trump referring to women as “dogs.” Trump detractors referring to him as a “pig.” Dehumanizing each other leads to violence against those whom we dare to deem less than human. If we are to establish connection and restore civility and respect for our shared humanity, we must begin to rehumanize each other. We must, as we say in Unity, truly begin to “behold the Christ” in each other, even those with whom we most vehemently disagree or disapprove of.

What follows may seem to some naïve, idealistic or extremely simplistic. I realize that this is a complex issue and that there are no easy fixes or readily workable solutions. I hope and trust that you will read/hear that I am sharing from my heart about my experience and what I perceive as the devastating effects that our “correctional institution” system can have on the millions of people who are currently or have been incarcerated.

I recently had the opportunity to witness, first hand, an example of the effects of dehumanization. I attended an event at the Denver Women’s Correctional Facility. It was presented by Alternatives to Violence Project (AVP), an organization that offers experiential workshops in personal growth, community development and creative conflict management in prisons and other institutions.

It was my first visit to a prison. I admit it; I was somewhat frightened at the thought of walking through those doors, knowing that they would be locked behind me. Prior to this, my only impressions of prison and prisoners were from what I had seen in movies and television. My imagination went to, “What if there’s a riot? What will I do then?” Before walking through those doors, I had no idea that everything I had ever thought about prison and the people who are imprisoned would be challenged.

Not only was it my first time in a prison, it was also the first time I had interacted face-to-face with someone currently imprisoned. It was an eye-opening experience. We walked through the front door, the only entrance, into a small enclosed room. The guards were stationed there. They greeted us, but not with smiles. We were given guest badges and asked to wait for someone who would escort us to the meeting room. After we walked through the metal detector, we were led out of that room, through a door that opened to an open-air walkway between the buildings. We were surrounded by tall chain-link fence and coils of heavy barbed wire. We were escorted through several heavy metal doors, each of which had to be closed and secured behind us before the next one would open. It was a surreal experience. When we walked into the large meeting area, we were met at the registration desk by women wearing dark green pants and tops with bright yellow undershirts. At the time, I did not know who they were, but I would soon find out.

The room was arranged in small circles of 8 to 10 chairs. We were assigned a group according to our random choice of colored marker we used for our nametag. When we arrived, there were already several people seated in our group, including two women dressed exactly like the women at the reception table. I kept asking myself, “Are they prisoners?” They did not in any way fit my stereotype of how they “should” look or behave. They were smiling, friendly, and welcoming, not the hard, rough and angry women I imagined. It soon became clear, that yes, indeed, they are inmates. During the course of the evening, I had the opportunity to find out more about their daily experiences in the prison, and the positive effect that participation in the AVP workshops has had on their lives. Both women in our circle have been in prison for more than 10 years.

Near the end of the evening, I noticed one of the inmates standing alone, so I walked over and introduced myself. She told me that she has only been involved in AVP for one year, even though she has been in prison for 10 years. She went on to tell me that for years she resisted getting involved because she saw no reason to try to improve herself. After all, she explained, “I am a lifetime resident here.” I was dumbfounded. I asked if I had heard her correctly. She confirmed that she has no hope of ever leaving that place. I wanted to fall on my knees and cry right there. I cannot image these women or anyone spending a lifetime locked away behind bars.

This was a “reality check” for me. In the moment I connected with this “lifer,” I recognized that for many of us, including me, it is almost too easy to think of imprisoned people as “wrong and bad” and deserving of punishment. After all, we tell ourselves, they would not be in their predicament if they had not broken the law. Not only can we somehow defend locking another human being away for years or even for life, we also find justice in knowing that in prison quite often their basic human dignity is stripped from them. This is a segment of our human family that we routinely dehumanize in order to excuse how we treat them.

It is an extreme example of the effects of what we do with our own pain. We push away those whom we believe have caused or stimulated our pain. When we can blame “them” for it and project it onto them, we don’t have to face it and move through it. When we deny our pain, we can become imprisoned by it, both figuratively and literally. In our unacknowledged pain, we separate ourselves from ourselves, therefore from each other. We live in a prison of our own making, and we sentence them to a prison exiled from us.

I assert that as Dr. Brown’s research revealed that the cause of the disconnection we experience is unacknowledged and unexpressed pain that manifests as fear and anger, and that pain is also at the root of the offenses that land our fellow human beings in prison. Rather than punishing them by locking them away from society, a more effective strategy would be to understand and feel our personal and collective pain and do our best to extend empathy and compassion for the pain they must have felt when they broke the law. 

Additionally, rather than locking them away and only allowing them to participate in rehabilitation programs when they prove themselves “worthy” by exampling in “good” behavior, that we connect with them and do our best to understand the roots of their so called “bad” behavior.

I fully realize that we have laws in this country ostensibly designed to protect the welfare of society and that there are consequences for breaking those laws. I am not advocating the dissolution of the justice system. I am, however, strongly advocating for discontinuing the practice of dehumanizing those who break the laws and who are incarcerated.

I am impressed and inspired by the work of AVP. They provide opportunities for these women, and others, to be present for their own pain and for that of others. Programs, such as AVP, address the cause of the problem, rather than simply treat the symptoms.

Dr. Brown says,

“Dehumanization and holding people accountable are mutually exclusive. Humiliation and dehumanizing are not accountability or social justice tools, they’re emotional off-loading at best, emotional self-indulgence at worst. And if our faith asks us to find the face of God in everyone we meet, that should include politicians, media, and strangers on Twitter with whom we most violently disagree. When we desecrate their divinity, we desecrate our own, and we betray our faith”

I assert the same applies to all of our brothers and sisters, even and especially those we would rather vilify or demonize. As we might say in Unity, we cannot hold anyone outside of the Christ, unless we are standing right there with them. Let us be the ones who truly choose to behold the Christ in all.

Join us on Sunday for our service. We will explore this concept in greater depth and discuss some practical steps we can take to “Lean in to Love.” You are welcome here.