Polarization, A Pathway to Acceptance

Santa Monica, California

​“Division” seems to be a hot word in our culture lately. In my circles, I have noticed heavy concern for our "divided nation." Whether I am listening to a sermon at church, discussing the latest news amongst friends or hearing stories shared over public radio, there is an expressed sentiment in the way polarization burgeons into hateful deeds.

Taking into consideration recent divisive factors like the clashing voices stimulated by the 2016 presidential election, strong opinions on each side of the immigration debate, civil rights concerns and battling beliefs on gender and sexuality equality, it is enough reason for the American culture to be concerned with national division. 

But, while bearing news from the latest hate crime naturally brings grief, I am afraid that our responses can often be trite and oversimplified. 

Recently flipping through the radio, I heard three lines of a popular song that emphasizes just that. "You are black, I am white, but we are the same inside."

That's a beautiful notion, and as a white American woman, I felt a similar ideal witnessing conflict in the Middle East for the first time, "We all bleed the same, cry over the loss of children the same, and laugh at life's whimsies just the same," was the motto I lived by.
 
If we are going to be on the road to peace in this world, we have to look at our humanistic similarities, right?

I thought. 

We target polarization as if it is the bane of society, but I am beginning to wonder if the diffusion through differences is in fact, very natural.

A few years ago, I moved to the West Bank in efforts to immerse into a predominately Muslim culture. Seeking to understand their lifestyle, religious behaviors and struggles only reemphasized the contrasting distinctions between us.
 
I could not relate to a Muslim woman having to wear full coverings in the desert heat every single day. That was not a part of my lifestyle. The connection they felt to Muhammed and the prayer observance throughout the day was beyond my understanding. I had my own spirituality and prayer life, but it was far less orderly and more privately expressed. Even Eastern standards of beauty were vastly different than the Western ideals I grew up around. 

Nonetheless, I did not need to see myself in reflection to the Muslim people, nor did I need a palpable grasp of all of their ways in order to care for them as human beings. If anything, it helped to acknowledge the contrasts in order to fully appreciate the differences between us.

I will never understand what it means to be a black person. Whether living in Africa or as an American, the background, family behaviors, struggles, cultural norms and values are very different than mine. There is not a way I can relate to a history of slavery. I can empathize but to say we are the same would be audacious and untrue.

A Right Wing thought may never make a home in my mind, and I might always stand on opposite sides of political and social opinions from my Republican counterparts.

And perhaps, I will never know what it is like to identify as a different gender, or to be attracted to the same sex, and likewise, I may never understand what it feels like to be civilly discounted for the way I identify.

So, I cannot honestly say I am the same, or that we are all the same, when I look into a life so different than mine.

Yes, we are all human, that gives us something of relation. But perhaps we are placing unattainable pressure on ourselves by assuming we can find national and global reconciliation through seeking similarities. 

A few years ago, I biked through Chicago, from downtown to the surrounding suburbs. I noticed stark differences in the neighborhoods with clear lines between the Asian, Hispanic, Black and White suburban areas of the city. The grocery stores, people, restaurants and businesses were telling. At the time, this apparent polarization was appalling, but I have grown to see this as the inevitable reality.

In nature we see like-creatures gathering together. We all know birds flock together, dogs create a pack and humans resonate with people of similar beliefs, ideologies and cultural norms.

The division itself is not the atrocity. It is only once we allow ourselves to see those differences as something to fear, something to be threatened by, something to hate, that it becomes problematic in society.  

Our differences make us unique, special, distinctive. They stir our creativity, provide unconventional expressions of beauty and shape a world of irreplaceable thought and perspective. 

Perhaps, we shouldn't be so concerned with a divided nation, but a nation unaware of the splendor in that which divides us. Instead of seeking ways we can all move into the same neighborhood and embrace far-reaching similarities, we can begin to notice the differences, realize we may never relate to the oceans between us, and welcome the colorful and thoughtful assortment of humanity.