Reentry | Humanity

We Need to Settle Our Differences Now

A love letter to America

Hi, America.

I love you, but I’m fed up with the division in this country. I’m over it. The hate, the separation, the “us” versus “them” mentality, and the refusal to understand another point of view are all really killing me. All I see is the need to come together finally.

I’ll tell you what I did about it. I took matters into my own hands.

Instead of sitting on my couch reading articles about America or looking at statistics, I did something different this summer. I decided to go out and experience it for myself.

On a quest for empathy, I sought real-life connections with other people. In order to figure out what is really going on, past the messages in my community, I got in my car and drove through nine states in about a month. It was beautiful.

This is the true story of how I re-entered America from within.

I Went on a Quest to Meet Total Strangers

Going out into the reality of the situation is a novel idea, I know. I actually wanted to witness Americans with my own eyes and meet people who disagree with me face-to-face. Am I nuts because I didn’t want to learn about my countrymen from watching TV at home? I think not. And I highly recommend trying this approach for yourself. You’ll learn things, trust me.

We need empathy in these times. We need compassion. There’s no way we are going to win at any of our battles as a country — or as a world — unless we embrace these love-based ideals.

There are a lot of us. There is great diversity in thought, lifestyle, and background in this country. In the whole world, really. Humanity is diverse and wonderful.

What I learned from meeting real-life strangers is that instead of shunning our differences, we should be celebrating them. Somehow we need to bring ourselves together instead of pursuing separation.

I noticed that living in isolation and lockdown made me lose touch with the outside world. My interactions with people became very controlled. If this is happening to you, then you’ll notice that your connection to the way others live may be all but gone because you haven’t been able to communicate with a diverse group of human beings lately. It’s not your fault, but you do have the power to change this.

When you allow other humans to tell you their personal stories instead of reading about them or watching them on TV, you expand your consciousness. When you allow yourself to see other humans shopping in Walmart in rural America, you understand how other people live. When you buy fresh produce from a roadside stand, you see what’s going on outside the small box you’ve been living in.

Meeting people who are nothing like me makes life interesting. Laughing together, comparing stories, and feeling another person’s presence is so beautiful and meaningful. I couldn’t help but ask myself, why isn’t everyone doing this?

Connecting With Real People Who Have Been Shamed

In Florida, people talk to each other. I was floored every time a person passing me on the sidewalk said hello and looked into my eyes. I felt warm and fuzzy every time a mom of another child waved at me from across a playground as if they were happy to know me — a total stranger. They don’t do this in the Washington, D.C. area where I’m from.

All year, the media painted a dark picture of Florida. My liberal friends looked down on these people. They shared memes on social media about how Floridians are doomed because of their stupidity. They were shamed for going to the beach on a nice day, and photos of it were all over the news.

It went further. The message being circulated was that the people of Florida are going to die. The idea was that we were going to witness natural selection because people went to a beach. I sensed glee in the tone of the people conveying this message. They were excited about it somehow. Excited and angry.

I can just imagine the people of Florida seeing these memes, shaking their heads, and saying, “They just wish they were here, too.”

What I’ve learned is that it doesn’t matter what you read or hear, you have to meet the people you’re accusing of wrongful acts before you make a judgment call. You have to be in their situation in order to decide what to think.

If you can’t be there in person with them, then at least imagine that they’re real human beings. Imagine that they are kind and good people. Is that crazy to suggest?

What if your anger and hatred toward them actually found its way to their ears? Think about going to a playground like I did and seeing these people waving happily at you, and then decide whether you would still call them stupid or make judgments. Think about their reactions.

Would you be proud of yourself if you knew you’d intentionally hurt someone else? No, you wouldn’t. Why? Because you’re a kind person — just like they are — who just wants the best for humanity.

Why would anyone choose to spread anger and judgment instead of love? We can all do better.

Differences Are Not a Reason to Call Names

In Wellston, Ohio, my friend Matt took me through the countryside and pointed out old farmsteads where his family has been for generations. Men with mustaches sit on their porches talking about the old days. Their ancestors whisper in their ears about the days gone by and why they’re all there in the first place.

There are still “Trump/Pence” signs on the property of homes that can be seen from the roads, even when the election was a year ago. It’s what we call Trump Country in the big city, and that term isn’t used lovingly.

The town’s major industry used to be mining, but now there isn’t a mine. The population there is shrinking. Buildings are slowly being demolished and bulldozed. In Wellston, you feel a sense of listlessness, but a pervading sense of gratitude for the simplicities of life.

The vibe of a small town is totally different from the vibe of a big city. How can we look past these differences?

My friend’s relatives gathered in a backyard and spoke to me there about the people in the big cities. They alluded to the power of the government and how it has no place in their world. They live in a way that suits them and all they ask is to be left alone.

The big city people aren’t bad. They’re just far away. They just have nothing to do with life in a small town. The decisions made in far-off cities about the laws of the land seem to be unrelated to the everyday lives in Wellston.

Sometimes they talked about “those liberals” in Athens, a nearby college town. Sometimes they laughed about how people are attacking conservative-minded folks like them. But they never spoke to me in anger about it. They never called anyone stupid.

I know from personal experience that there are people in other places who are sitting in their living rooms calling them stupid just for their politically conservative leanings. It worries me.

Reality Manifests Differently Depending on Where You Are, So Why Judge?

The chime on the door of the CBD shop in Morgantown, West Virginia was made out of metal forks and spoons. The men with beards who worked there told me about their intoxicating hemp lollipops. I bought some incense.

They told me that they used to be in a building across the street, but they had to move to this space because the pandemic occupancy regulations meant that two of the four employees there would have lost their jobs. As the bearded man told us this, he made lines in the sand of a miniature zen garden with a miniature rake.

“That’s a sad story,” I said, watching him rake perfect, careful lines.

It was a half-ghost town, with many empty storefronts on the main drag. I imagined it in its heyday, a college town full of boutique shops and unusual cafes. It was sad.

We went to a place called Blue Moose Cafe where customers stood around waiting for their bagels. The staff spoke kindly and the smell of coffee filled the air. No one wore masks, and there didn’t seem to be a sense of anxiety about standing near someone else. I saw friends hugging as they said goodbye, which made me smile ear to ear.

If you go to the big cities like D.C., these people seem to disappear. Their voices are drowned out because they are far away and out of sight. The fears are different.

In the city, people only see what is in front of them, which is understandable. They fear their office telling them that they can’t do remote work anymore, and crowds scare them because they think that this is how viruses are transmitted. It’s the information that is being talked about in that location. But in a small city like Morgantown, there are no crowds.

Where you’re located has so much to do with what you believe. Yet we allow it to rule our reactions.

As a believer in the possibilities of reincarnation, I often ask myself: what would have happened if I was born there instead of here? Would I hold any of the beliefs that I now so dearly cling to? If not, then I don’t see the point in letting them get between me and others.

Let Our Differences Be Our Triumph

What you fear is not always what your neighbor fears. For you, fear may manifest as getting old without proper healthcare. But your neighbor may be scared of simple social interactions. Others fear poverty and an empty stomach.

In my hometown, there is an old man who never leaves his house and when neighbors walk by, he knocks on his window from inside to get their attention. His fears are nothing like mine, and since I never interact with him, I may never know what they are. And that’s okay, it’s not my business. I don’t hate him for his beliefs and his behavior.

I don’t hate anyone for their beliefs or their behavior that I can’t understand.

Luckily, if you talk to people, they will usually allude to their fears within the first conversation. I learned this in my travels. As soon as they start talking you have no choice but to empathize. This is why I enjoy conversations with strangers in all situations.

Because what happened on my journey, I begin to wonder: can we celebrate our differences instead of fearing them?

As I drove across these nine states, I learned a lot about what bothers people and how they react to their anxieties. This helps me remain compassionate for them, for we all have our own shadows.

This means that there’s still hope. If I can have compassion for a stranger even when I don’t understand their beliefs, then this means that everyone can. We can bring love back.

Neighbors can love each other again.

“Luke, don’t give in to hate. That only leads to the dark side.”

— Obi-Wan Kenobi

Hi, I’m Emily. I have a graduate degree in philosophy, I’ve lived around the world, and I teach meditation. I just want to make love and compassion cool again. Visit my website to find out more.

The divine in me recognizes the divine in you.