I think perhaps one of the most difficult aspects of living in this particular moment is the crystal clarity of our view of others.
We make assumptions about people based on our limited knowledge. Friend, co-worker, family, admired acquaintance, we see what we want to see.
But there is that saying that when someone shows you who they are, believe them. Lately, I’ve seen too clearly what some people are, and though I don’t want to believe them, I must.
I recently heard from a man whom I respect and admire that he is opposed to Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) policies. He’s someone who has given time, energy and resources to educate minorities, help the homeless with life skills development, and he’s dedicated his spare time to generally making things better for those less fortunate than he. However, he feels that as a middle-aged white male, he is the minority and he can’t get behind the DEI policies, so he’s glad to see them go. I don’t know if he’s somehow missed the view from the top, if it’s gotten by him that white men still hold all of the power. ALL of the power.
I realized as I tried to navigate this new knowledge that there is a certain kind of benevolence that exists only when one holds the power. I’ve seen it many times in my life. As a young professional woman in the 80s and 90s, I was made to feel appreciated and respected so long as I stayed in my lane. As soon as I moved up, stepped where I was challenging the powers that be, I was made to feel less than and unwelcome. I’ve seen it in Christians who want to help the poor, but not too much. And it’s imperative that folks are grateful. I’ve seen it in neighbors who want to make sure all kids have access to good education, but not necessarily as good as their kids have. It’s all too easy to be generous and kind when you hold the power or at least feel that you hold the power. DEI policies force us to give up that hold on power, force us to share it with others. That takes both courage and strength.
Holding onto the power makes benevolence easy. And, quite honestly, meaningless.
Nancy Wiley writes. 