Rejecting a stalemate mentality

I begin each day with a cup of tea and the internet. I read the news of the day, catch up on Facebook, read a few LinkedIn stories. It is a usually a good way to transition to a day of job hunting or blogging or otherwise working.

Today, not so much.

I’ve been numb since the news of the shootings in Orlando broke. I feel like, as a writer, I should have something profound to say. I should be able to offer deep insight or words of support or encouragement.

But I’ve found nothing to say that seemed worthwhile. That seemed to honor the victims and their family. That honors the magnitude of the tragedy or that doesn’t trivialize it. It is too big. Too important. Too horrible.

In scrolling through Facebook today, however, I was struck by what I needed to say. Perhaps not necessarily what needs to be said, because I can’t presume to know that, but what I need to say.

I have friends all along the political/religious spectrum, so I get to see quite the variety of posts, and, frankly, what I am seeing is mostly crap.

We, as a nation, are, once again, sharing in the aftermath of an unthinkable tragedy that was fueled by hate. Regardless of whether it is hate because of sexuality, or hate because of religion, or hate because of politics, or hate because of gender, or hate because of whatever else it is that we hate, the result is more and more the same: people have to die.

And in the midst of all this hate and sorrow, we somehow feel compelled to cling desperately to our own ideologies, believing, I am sure, that ours are the rights ones. That our outlook on the world is the correct one. That any other viewpoint is not only wrong, but that it will most definitely and absolutely and positively negatively impact our daily lives in a horrible, terrible and no-good way. And our posts overtly or, very often, covertly express that sentiment.

What I see are expressions of our close-mindedness.

Pray all you want, hold candlelight vigils until you are sick, donate blood until you are dry, but if you hold the view that only your view is the correct one and you cannot enter into a dialogue that is meant to educate rather than to proselytize, none of that matters because YOU are part of the problem.

I’ve heard countless times from family that we shouldn’t talk politics because “I’m not going to change your mind and you certainly are not going to change mine.”

That, my friends, is the definition of close-minded.

If we cannot talk, if we cannot share not only what we think but why, then we have no dialogue. We have no communication. We have no engagement.

But we do have close-mindedness. And we have no progress.

And we have no chance of growing as a society and stopping the endless stream of shootings. And rapes. And assaults. And wars.

None.

Because as long as you think you are right, and I think I am right, and we refuse to talk about our views, then we have a stalemate.

In a stalemate, nobody wins. Ever.

EVER.

The board sits and becomes dusty. The pieces don’t move. They all just stare at each other and refuse to move, preferring, instead, to remain trapped forever on their squares. But they are secure in the knowledge that, while they didn’t win, they did not lose.

We are convinced that it is more important for us to “NOT LOSE” than it is for we, as a culture or a nation, to WIN. Are we so entrenched in our hatred of THE OTHER that we prefer to stay smugly on our own little squares, and be thankful that the others stay on their squares, rather than figure out a way to protect all the squares around us?

Based on the long line of ugly, hateful, false memes I’m seeing on Facebook today, I guess the answer is yes.

I started my day planning a transition into a day of productivity, but, instead, I started one reading about hatred, seeing hatred expressed by people that I like and often love, and realizing that we are a culture that actually thrives on the hatred. We express our sorrow, but we then post memes that perpetuate the same hatred that caused the shooting. We say we want it to stop, but then we oppose any discussion on gun control, gay rights, tort reform, campaign reform, or any other move that might affect our ability to “not lose.”

We love our little squares, and it is just easier to stand on it in stalemate knowing that nobody else around us can move either, so we develop an incredibly false belief that we’re all safe.

But we forget that stalemates remain stalemates only as long as the players of the game agree that one has been reached. We forget that one of the players can get pissed off because of the loss, and that person can take his or her arm and wipe the board clear.

Or a stranger can walk into the room and decide that the stalemate makes him or her uncomfortable, or threatens their own game, and the board can be wiped clean.

Or a disaster can strike, and the board and everything around it can be destroyed.

Wouldn’t it be much smarter if we turned away from the board for just a minute and actually listened to The Other? Listening doesn’t mean acquiescing. It just means really listening. And considering the other point of view. And asking yourself if you might need to sacrifice your own square to save the entire board?

Wouldn’t it be nice to open Facebook tomorrow and see a dialogue occurring? One that aimed to heal a very broken country? And one that clearly said that we are listening clearly and allowing our own positions to be challenged?

Wouldn’t that be nice.