Undividing #3 - It doesn't matter who wins the US election, why cool will kill you, and the opposite of paranoia.
A community of people undividing our world and ourselves.
Hey there all,
Well it’s a hot week for divisions, and that’s why I’m posting a day early—the day before the US elections. I thought about not covering it in the newsletter this week. But I think there’s something profound that we can learn here.
Playing it cool. It’s never a good idea. In fact it’s the leading cause of death of what might have been a relationship.
And then in these very paranoid times, it’s good to know that there is an alternative.
Undividing Our World - Why it doesn’t matter who wins the US election. Or any election.
Let’s not talk about the elections. Let’s talk about the day after. I’m using the US ones as the topical starting point, but my thinking applies to your elections too, wherever you’re reading.
It’s my firm belief that it really doesn’t matter who wins. Whatever we all think that the next four years will look like under Blue or Red in the US, it will be something different than what we’ve imagined—either versions will be better or worse than the scenarios keeping us all awake at night.
And it will pass in another 4 years.
All that will be left behind is all of us. And our divisions. The parties and leaders change, but we’re still all here.
We keep hearing about how the US is split right down the middle and the election is going to be a 49/51% split or closer. Again. But there’s a far more telling statistic from Gallup—75% of Americans are dissatisfied with the state of the nation. That means 3/4 of the country want something different and better. Which might sound a lot like where you live as well.
For different reasons, I think our governments, businesses, and social medias aren’t going to solve any of the divisions that we vote on.
They can’t be solved in one election cycle. And due to the nature of how government runs, every party is interested in whatever plays the best in four years so that they can get re-elected.
And I don’t mean this cynically. Hate the game, not the player. There are very genuine politicians out there, but all their good works don’t matter if they don’t get elected and re-elected.
Businesses are concerned about shareholders, not people. Again, it’s the game that was created that they all have to outplay each other in.
And social media naturally skews to the most divisive mechanics, because those appeal to our lowest selves, and that’s the version of us that engages more often on the platforms. We’re triggered, we click, and they’ve sold another ad space. Division is the business model.
Basically, there’s a billion problems in our societies, and the people we elected with our votes, and our dollars, and our attention, aren’t willing or able to fix them.
So who is going to save us then?
No one is coming to save us. This is good news.
When I was publishing my book How To Burn A Rainbow, I was super frustrated and angry with the never-ending process. It kept feeling like there was a piece missing to the whole writing/proofing/legal/production/organisational maelstrom I found myself in.
Then The Emotions Diary gave me quite the read. When I asked it, “Why do I feel so much anger towards this thing that I love?” it responded with “Because no one is coming to save you. By the way, this is good news.”
It went on to explain that there is no white knight that was about to ride over the hill and swoop me up. There is no one who is going to wave some magic wand and make all this go away. The only person who can move it forward is me. And that was good news because now I didn’t have to wait anymore for this person who was never coming.
Head exploding emoji.
The Emotions Diary nailed it, once again. I had been waiting unconsciously for someone to carry the load. And when I realised that that just wasn’t going to happen, I wasn’t sad.
I felt the most incredible relief. And now, purpose.
Because now I knew, without any exceptions, that it was up to me and me alone. It made the work of getting the book out clearer, faster, and more meaningful. I lost all the resentment.
Instead, I found a new kind of polite resilience. If someone or something was in the way of getting How To Burn A Rainbow into the world, like a quarterback I would charge past them at full speed, saying “excuse me,” cradling my book baby.
It was like discovering a superpower. I could get BIG things done quickly, and without being a dick to anyone on the way.
So let’s think about that in terms of the day after an election, and all the problems that probably won’t be solved by it.
We are going to have to talk our way out of this
I was in conversation recently with an American friend. He had very specific ideas about the people who were not voting for his party and candidate. They were stupid, morons, backwards etc. You’re probably having the same conversations yourself with your friends—a fear of and disbelief at these unknown people.
But the part that really struck me, was when he said, “I just don’t get these people at all.” That’s when I asked him did he have any friends who voted for the other party.
He indignantly replied, “God no! I can’t be friends with them!”
When I asked him if he has anyone in his world, not a friend but maybe a co-worker or someone else in his orbit, who voted for the other party. He thought about it. “I doubt it,” he responded.
“Well then if you’re not having conversations with them, who is?” I asked.
“These conversations are happening, trust me,” he replied confidently.
“Ok, where?” I asked. After his silence stretched on as he thought about it, I continued, “This isn’t me doing an ‘Ah-hah, gotcha!’ This is me asking, because I would amplify that if I can.”
But he didn’t have an answer. Because I guess he thought, like I did about my book, like we all do about the problems we see in front of us everyday, that it must be someone else’s job to fix this. Not ours.
But it is ours. Because there’s no one coming to save us.
There’s no justice, there’s just us
If we’re all serious about undividing this world, then we have to do it. Not some nebulous “we.” I mean you. Yes, you, person reading this. And I mean, me. We won’t be out of office in four years, most of us don’t own businesses where we do the shareholder’s bidding, none of us own social media platforms where division is the model.
How do we even start?
Well it’s not going to be fun. You won’t get likes for it on social media. You’ll have to leapfrog your own boundaries. And it’ll happen off camera and in-person, not in a comments section.
We have to start talking to each other again. And by talking, I mean listening.
We have to listen to the “enemy.”
So how do you even start? Because to be honest, I think we’ve lost the talent.
First, find someone in your family, friend group, or maybe the next time you happen to come across someone with an opposing view to yours—an Uber driver, your doctor, someone you meet in a bar.
When you hit a topic that you’re clearly on either side of, take a breath. Activate your curiosity.
Ask them questions. Don’t try to make them wrong. Don’t try to convince them of your POV. Don’t cross-examine.
Just listen. And I mean, really listen. 80% of the listening is you.
Then with what you’ve learned by listening, put yourself in their shoes.
I guarantee that after you’ve spent time really listening, you’ll get past WHAT they think, and find out more about WHY they think what they think.
You may not agree with them, but have more empathy for where they’re coming from. You can have both of those at the same time.
I can not agree with someone’s POV but have total compassion and understanding for why they think that. Even people anti-LGBTQ+ who don’t think I should exist. But when I listen, I’m forced to see their humanity. And they always end up seeing mine.
I’ve had this happen with several Uber drivers. During our trips, I just asked a lot of questions and listened. By the time they dropped me off, I wasn’t some nebulous crazy gay degenerate coming for their kids. I was that guy that maybe they’d even want to have a beer with. And for me, they became someone who, if I’d lived how they lived, probably would think what they did.
It’s not a solve. It’s a start. Because I know now, I speak on his behalf in rooms he’s not in. Not to support what he thinks, but to help others understand why he thinks that.
And I think some of them might be doing the same for me. In rooms where no one like me is ever going to be in.
The work is where the WHY is, not the WHAT
What happened between me and those Uber drivers only happens in a conversation between two people. And that’s something only we can do. Not a government, business, or social platform.
No one’s coming to save us from each other. But we can all save ourselves when we talk to each other.
This is f@#%ing naive and will never work
I hear that a lot when I express this idea. Often because people have no faith in us as humans. So I’ll leave you with two thoughts.
When was the last time you really listened to someone, maybe your partner? And found out that what you had assumed about why they did something wasn’t right? Remember how that felt, to “get” them? And the good that did in your relationship with them?
And finally, if you have a better idea of how to bring us all back together, and move past our divisions, I’m all ears. Seriously.
But if you don’t, maybe you can start here.
Undividing Ourselves - It’s a fool, who plays it cool
A story about dating and undividing in Berlin.
So I’m listening to the Beatles as I write today, and “Hey Jude” came on. A lyric really jumped out at me. Sing along;
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
It took me back immediately to a time in 2022 when I had starting dating a lovely chap here in Berlin, called Erik. I really liked him. I wasn’t interested in anyone else.
But I didn’t want to say anything, in case laying out how I felt meant Erik would disappear.
My dating history in Berlin had gone very much that way. The last guy I’d dated before Erik was a guy I’d been out with a dozen times over two months. Let’s call him, The Scientist. Because he is one. And funny. Hot. Owned his own home. Had a career he loved. Wrote a blog about his hobby. Rode a moped. A proper, single adult—a unicorn in Berlin.
We’d done sleep overs, cooking at each other’s places, his cat even liked me.
So we were having dinner one night at a restaurant, and I remarked, “This is nice.” The Scientist thought I meant the food. I replied, “Yeah, sure. But I mean this,” I said, making an exchange gesture with my hand in the air between us. “This is nice. Getting to know you. I’m enjoying myself.”
The Scientist looked slightly puzzled. I put it down to lost in translation. He came back to my place and stayed the night.
Then I never heard from him ever again.
Fast forward to 2022 and I couldn’t bear the idea of history repeating and Erik disappearing in a puff of smoke. So I said nothing to him about how I was feeling. Till not saying it started to hurt. And then I still said nothing, to the point where just being with him started to hurt.
My poor divided self; heart feeling one thing, head acting totally different.
I remarked to my friend Uli, that I was trying to play it cool so that I didn’t scare Erik off. But what was very apparent to Uli was that my world was definitely getting a little colder.
DON’T PLAY IT COOL.
That was the text I got from Uli the next day. All caps.
He was right. I called Erik. I laid it out. And then Erik laid it out. Suffice to say, we had both been doing the same thing. Dividing our hearts and heads out of fear.
It’s two years later and we’re a thing, Mr Erik and I. A happy little pair.
But there’s an epilogue. Back to The Scientist. Months after he disappeared off the face of the earth, I figured, fuck it, and I emailed him. I asked him, what happened? Much to my surprise, he replied. At length. Then I did too.
And he had presumed things, I had presumed things. And in those presumptions everything good we were doing, died.
While it wasn’t in-person, it was honest. And following from what I wrote above about the election, about really listening to someone, The Scientist is the one I never look back on and think, “what happened?”
And that’s cool.
Undividing Extra - Dear Paranoia, meet your kryptonite—Pronoia.
In these times it’s hard not to be paranoid. There is a feeling that everything is against us. That things won’t work out. That, Life Is Hard™.
But a friend from a while back introduced me to a word I’d never heard of.
Pronoia. Not Para.
What struck me about Pronoia is that I didn’t really know what it felt like. I had to really rummage through the filing cabinet to find the fleeting moments when I’d thought that’s what I’d been feeling.
Paranoia and all its friends are always around at my place. But Pronoia, now that’s someone I’d like to hang out with more. That’s someone I’d like to conspire with. Such a delicious word, “conspire.”
So I always send Pronoia an invite.
When I hatch a plan these days, from Undividing to a night at the movies, Paranoia steps in to conjure all the ways this could go horribly wrong.
Then I take a breath, and ask Pronoia for its thoughts. Wickedly wonderful and warm, Pronoia has the best ideas. And the confidence to say, no Karl, this is what’s happening. And I find that the more I asked Pronoia for their take, the more that sticks with me.
What are you doing today? Where could that go stupidly and horrendously right? Just ask Pronoia.
So there we go folks. Listening, not playing it cool, and the universe working in your favour.
I hope you can channel some of this in this very interesting week we’re about to have.
Big undividing hugs to you all,
Karl
And if you’d like a copy of How To Burn A Rainbow, 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.
