Conflict & Apology

Conflict & Apology July 22, 2016

photo by Maggie Beaumont
photo by Maggie Beaumont

I need to write about conflict.

I need to write about discovering in myself an unwillingness – very nearly an inability – to change a position that no longer serves.

I need to write about discovering in myself that sometimes it can be more important to me to ‘win’ than it is to be ‘fair,’ or even to acknowledge that the person I feel angry at may just possibly be right.

I need to write about discovering in myself something I find particularly shameful: I have been unable to recognize that the opinions of someone I care about, with which I disagree, are not judgments of me personally. I’ve been unable to recognize that the other person’s opinions are not personal … not because I genuinely believe that a personal judgment is meant … but rather, because I am afraid that I could end up feeling stupid. And because I’m afraid of being laughed at.

My internal logic goes like this:

  • Past experience contains examples of people who spoke those opinions and who genuinely did do damage to me or limit my ability to care for myself. Some of them did injure me quite intentionally. Others hurt me because my pain was beneath their notice.
  • At a few times in the past I have sometimes too generously given someone the benefit of the doubt, and later regretted that I opened myself to harm.
  • In the past I have sometimes argued for someone’s right to their opinion … and later been laughed at (by that same person) for imagining that their intentions might be good.
  • So this time I feel safer if I assume what they’re saying is personal, is intended to be taken personally, is intend to injure, offend, or shame me.

There. Doesn’t that all make sense?

But, in what universe does that seem a good idea for future relationships?

Right at the moment, this feels awful.

I want to pretend I didn’t see it. But I did.

I want to pretend that it doesn’t matter, but it does.

I want to pretend that, because my opinion is the ‘right’ one and the other person is ‘wrong,’ that means I am justified in feeling angry and unsafe in that person’s presence. Which is utterly untrue, regardless of which of us is right (or even if, as can happen, both of us are right).

Where else does this show up?

All over the place.

* In my impassioned insistence that all my friends should agree with me that some particular issue is the most important – and that changing that one issue should be front and center in everything we do, whether they want to help or not. Or even, whether there is important work to do about other issues, too, or not. Even, when there are other lifesaving things we need to learn right this minute.

* In my assertion that it’s okay for me to loudly object to something you say, because the microaggressions that happened to me before you were born were so powerful — without, by the way, explaining any of them (because, you know, they were too personal or painful or whatever).

One time a long time ago I explained to a tall handsome man in his 30s that I wasn’t going to accompany him on a lonely walk after midnight because I didn’t know him very well. He patiently explained to me that my fear was “unfounded” because he wasn’t that kind of guy. I patiently explained to him that he might indeed be ‘not that kind of guy’ but that his understanding of who he was did not invalidate my experience; that my fear was accurately founded on my previous experiences with guys who said they were ‘not that kind’ – and were lying – and that meant that my fear was based on solid experience and that my caution, while unnecessary in his eyes, was clear and obviously necessary in mine.

He couldn’t understand what I was saying. He couldn’t even forgive me for saying it.

I think the same thing is happening, today, in a lot of spaces where people who have some relative privilege and people who don’t have that particular one are trying to communicate.

As an honorable, well-meaning White person I may imagine that the Black person I’m with ought to know I’m trustworthy. But what if they don’t know me well enough for that?

As a well-meaning woman whose gender presentation appears unambiguous, I may imagine that the trans person I’m with ought to know I’m safe to talk to. But what if I say something rude or intrusive? Do I think it hurts less because it comes from ignorance or inadvertence? How about casual disregard?

What if my feelings are a bit conflicted and my behavior a bit inconsistent? What would it mean … and how would it feel to a trans woman … if I wholeheartedly welcomed her into the Women’s Restroom and loudly defended her right to be there … and then pointedly excluded her from a Women’s Ritual?

Our fears are founded on our experiences – on what has happened to us, or to others in our presence, and on the stories we’ve heard and the jokes we’ve been told. Most of us are horrified by the idea that we might behave unfairly. And most of us do, actually, behave unfairly some of the time. Maybe we assume our way is the right way, or even the only way. Maybe we stand on our principals to the exclusion of someone else’s right to breathe air. And sometimes, we need to apologize. To issue a real, genuine, heartfelt apology.

“I am sincerely sorry. I think I understand what I did that was wrong. I’m sorry for my ignorance. I’m sorry that I let my emotions get in the way of taking care of our friendship.”

Notice, please that I did NOT say “I’m sorry if …” and especially I did not say “I’m sorry if your feelings were hurt.” When I hear that, I always wonder if the person means the offense would have been perfectly okay if I hadn’t noticed it, or if my feelings hadn’t been hurt. As if stealing would somehow be okay as long as the culprit didn’t get caught. Or as if telling a racist joke would ever be okay ‘as long as no Person of Color was present’ or ‘as long as it was really funny.’

"The Death of Socrates" by Jacques-Louis David.  From WikiMedia.
“The Death of Socrates” by Jacques-Louis David. From WikiMedia.

There’s more to say about both conflict and apology – and there are some lovely sources to read about both. Your Google, Yahoo, or DuckDuckGo search engine can help you find several. But what I’m noticing at the moment is my personal level of avoidance about this.

I don’t want to write about it, or talk about it. I want, in some internally inconsistent way, to both ‘find a way to apologize that actually heals the relationship’ and ‘pretend nothing ever happened and imagine that I behaved well.’

The Witch asks why I’m struggling so much. What is it I’m not telling you?

I’m not telling you that I’ve been struggling with this for a year, in two different settings. I’m having trouble telling you that I’m still in pain over having expressed anger badly in one place last summer. And that I’ve been trying all year to forgive someone for having opinions different from mine in a situation where I would ‘like’ it better if we all agreed.

I’m wishing I didn’t have to admit that, far too often, I’d rather be right than be loving, or even be loved. I’m wishing I didn’t have to admit that, in some secret place of my inner child’s heart, I’m terrified that if I gave up my anger I would be defenseless.

The Witch dries my tears and offers me a hug. When she lets go I find a mug of warm ginger tea in my hand. I take a sip, and discover the overtones of forgiveness.

Blessed Be

–Maggie Beaumont

Ten days before Lammas 2016


Browse Our Archives