Undividing #2: Conversations Over Comments, Why Growth Hurts, And Dissecting Race Through Art.
Undividing ourselves and our world every week.
Hey there everyone, and welcome to Undividing #2.
I found myself in a comments section that made me question, what am I really doing here?
I’ve broken down a four stage arc of GROWTH out of the Emotions Diary that might save you some hard work.
And I’m sharing a piece of art that seems very simple, but I find wildly profound.
And of course, it’s recorded up the top for those who prefer just to hear me read these things in my head out loud. It’s one take and I do tend to go off script. So I guess in a way there’s bonus extras in there.
Let’s go…
Undividing Our World: What Is The Comments Section For These Days?
Der Spiegel is newspaper here in Germany. It’s like the Washington Post/NYT of the country. And it disabled its public comments sections for articles at the end of last year.
This may not seem like a big piece of news. A lot of other publications around the world have done the same thing. Many claim they don’t have the manpower to moderate these comments sections which can turn quickly into a poisonous brew.
The fact that Der Spiegel did it, is radical. Because this country has lived under two different regimes that silenced all free speech, protecting that is a heralded right here in Germany.
But even Der Spiegel had to admit, it was turning into a shit show. Up to 1.5 million comments per month. Most of which would descend into name calling and accusations pretty fast. Which is also, let’s be honest, half the reason we go there. I sometimes find myself reading the insanities people post with some dark delight. But also terror at some of the things people really think out there that they use the anonymity of the internet to vent.
I rarely comment on things for that very reason. Yet twice this week, I’ve commented on something on LinkedIn and twice been challenged. Which is good, I guess. Healthy debate is what it’s there for right? And LinkedIn is at least a place where there’s a modicum of decency.
But here’s where I found my own hackles rising, is that I was suddenly aware how public this exchange was going to be. And that I was hyper-concious of how my responses would sound. It was more a back and forth performance, than a real talk.
So I messaged both of them directly to see if turning this into a private conversation would change the tone. And to my thinking it did. I preferred how I was relating to them, being happier to concede a point, and I think them too.
For me it turned two people in a gladiator arena, into just two people.
I’m not sure if comments sections are that helpful these days. I will always take a one-on-one over a group-watched exchange.
And now ironically, I’m going to ask what you think about comments sections. Please comment in the comments section ;)
Undividing Ourselves: Why Is Growth So Hard?
Growth is a funny thing. Speaking for myself here, when I don’t feel like I’m growing, I get angry or disappointed with myself and/or the world. And when growth is thrust upon me, I would do everything in my power to avoid it.
I wouldn’t understand what I was doing to myself, seemingly sabotaging my positive steps before I’d even taken them. But it was the work that I did in the Emotions Diary over time, that really helped me pop the hood on my head and see how I was wired inside.
I’ve narrowed it down to four-step realisation-arc I came to about my own behaviour that helped me figure out this strange push/pull stagnation pattern I was in.
I’m going to talk about growth in terms of relationships I’ve been in. But it could mean something to you in any area of your life where you want to see growth, but can seem to make it.
Step 1. Realising that shit feels good, because it feels familiar.
The first realisation about why growth is hard was familiarity. Familiarity is the key. So, for me the pattern would go something like this. I dated the same guy five times in a row and married the last one.
Every time I’d find myself in the same situation—having an unemployed partner I was supporting, working my ass off in a job I wanted to leave, and feeling savagely unappreciated privately and professionally. Basically my life would be one large shitty situation.
I would complain about it to all my friends and co-workers, who would all agree what a bastard my partner or boss at the time was. Occasionally I’d fight it out with my partner, but just get told it was all in my head. Which I’d then use as ammo to go and complain to everyone all over again.
But instead of taking action, and growing, I’d stay right where I was, and keep doing exactly what I was doing. Even though it hurt, it felt familiar. So something about it felt comfortable.
I knew who to be in this crappy scenario. I knew my role. I knew everyone else’s. I liked it so much that I created it 5 times in a row.
Shit felt good because it felt familiar. I chose comfort over growth.
Step 2: Realising freedom is an abyss.
It would take something monumental to blow up my life. Discovering an affair. Death in the family. Getting fired. I needed red flags the size of Texas or a cataclysmic event to eject myself out of these scenarios. Usually I’d be emotionally and financially bankrupt by this stage too.
I’d pat myself on the back for making the jump. But then after a couple of weeks, after I’d told everyone there was about the breakup/firing, the panic would set in. Now what?
Freedom isn’t a big green field of bunnies and unicorns. It’s an abyss. A black hole. When you jettison one life, the next one has to be built.
Shocked and scared by this emptiness, feeling like I’d been denied some reward, I’d choose to not grow. I’d either subsume myself into the next interested guy’s life, or go back again. Or take the next big gig. In both cases I’d ask very few questions on the way in.
I’d choose busy and distracted over growth.
Step 3: Realising change means trying on a lot of jackets.
I’m a perfectionist. These days I have that perfectionist on a short leash. I can let it off and go run when it’s helpful, but these days I can usually just say the easiest thing is often the best.
But when I decided I was going to stand on my own and build my own life, I wanted it to be as perfect as possible, as soon as possible. Everything was either a massive success or, as in most cases, a huge failure. This is the greatest yoga studio I’ve ever found! A month later I’d cancel my membership. This was the most intuitive language course! A few weeks later I couldn’t say enough bad things about it.
What it took me a while to get the hang of was not looking at something as an answer, but an option. Try it on, see if it works, see how it feels. Keep it or let it go, maybe now, maybe when it doesn’t feel right anymore.
I’d changed growth in my head from a shameful sprint, into a nice stroll.
Step 4: Mourning old me
Whoever you become, someone will miss who you were. And when it comes to me, I miss the old me’s terribly, and also never want to see them again.
There’s the familiarity and comfort aspect that I talked about that’s hard to give up. There’s the ease of that life I hated; starting fresh takes energy! But at the same time, I was embarrassed for who I was, how long I stayed, the things I put up with, the things I didn’t say at the time.
But if I hadn’t been these people, I would never have grown into the person I am.
Treat those old you’s with the dignity and respect they deserve. Mourn them, and honour them. They worked hard to make you, you. They are your most direct ancestors.
I’d realised that growth is a process, and a muscle. It takes time, it hurts, you feel out of your depth a lot of the time. But these can be the best moments, the most enjoyable. Not to ones you just have to get through to get to the good bit.
I saw growth not as a destination, but part of being a perfectly imperfect person, following their path.
Undividing Through Art: Angèlica Dass’ “Humanæ”
Last year I was at an exhibition at Fotographiska in Berlin and came across this piece “Humanæ” by Angèlica Dass. I almost don’t want to say too much about what I think, and let you draw your own conclusions. But I’ve thought of this piece constantly since then.
From her website she writes: Humanæ is a photographic work in progress by artist Angélica Dass, an unusually direct reflection on the color of the skin, attempting to document humanity’s true colors rather than the untrue labels “white”, “red”, “black” and “yellow” associated with race. It’s a project in constant evolution seeking to demonstrate that what defines the human being is its inescapably uniqueness and, therefore, its diversity.
She goes on to explain the methodology.
The background for each portrait is tinted with a color tone identical to a sample of 11 x 11 pixels taken from the nose of the subject and matched with the industrial pallet Pantone®, which, in its neutrality, calls into question the contradictions and stereotypes related to the race issue.
She took pictures of over 4000 people in 20 countries and 36 cities.
Where it got really interesting to me were these numerous moments of side by side, where the subjects seem totally different, yet 100% matched each other’s Pantones.
I think it highlights in a graphic way that we have so much more that unites us than divides us. What are your thoughts on it?
How To Burn A Rainbow
Speaking of uniting people, the book is continuing to speak to all kinds of people all over the world who aren’t LGBTQ+ and aren’t getting divorced. Some recent news: It was #3 in Gay Biographies here in Germany, even though I only have an English edition for sale! And it won a Readers’ Favourite Award!
If you’d like a copy, you can pick one up from Jeff at the US Amazon store (where it’s still in the top 100 LGBTQ+ biographies!) or from Ru Paul’s Allstora who now ship internationally.
But if you live somewhere and it’s not available, like my friend in South Africa, hit me up and I can personally mail you a copy.
That’s all folks, till next week…
P.S. Birthday cards
I wasn’t playing around. Here go the first two. Buy cards. Send them to people you love. Show them that you give a shit. That’s love.
