We judge others. All the time. Sometimes for good: “Wow, she’s so talented!” And often, not so good: “What an idiot! Why would he do that?” We don’t seem to be able to help ourselves. Is it evolutionary? Trying to keep safe, build a like-minded tribe. Or is it cultural? What we can’t understand or recognize we view with concern? How do these judgements help us? Why do we need them? Do we need them at all? Can we train ourselves to react differently?
What if we traded our instinctual criticism for curiosity instead? What if we adopted a broader, more empathic understanding of the many diverse ways people experience life?
PBJT
When I was at university in the US, I was part of the small international student community and every Friday, we’d have lunch together at the dorm cafeteria. A new Chinese student had arrived and I watched as Wei enthusiastically put together his lunch sandwich of peanut butter and jelly. I remember being impressed that he’d already picked up on this very North American habit. And then to my horror, I watched as he added mustard, mayo, a slice of turkey and lettuce. He took a first bite and my thoughts were along the lines of “Eewww, what a weirdo!!” The thing is, the weirdo appeared to love his new creation, chomping it down, smiling and chatting with the rest of us watching in amazement. And it occurred to me then: “Who am I to decide that a PBJT sandwich can’t be enjoyed? How does that help Wei?” So instead of ‘correcting’ him, I simply smiled and validated his enjoyment. “Good stuff, huh?” To which Wei nodded vigorously.
The Troublesome Pet?
“Why would they get a cat when they travel so much? It’s idiotic! Now they need to beg a neighbor to cat-sit all time. Just so stupid! They surely should have thought about that before they went and adopted that poor kitty, alone all the time!!”
The thing is, we often only see the story from one point-of-view. Our own. We don’t have the full story, the back-story, the deeper story, the behind-the-scenes story. Maybe their child cried every night for a lost companion, the kitty that disappeared one day before they moved to their new house. Or maybe they didn’t know that they would be travelling so much. New job, new responsibilities. Or maybe they underestimated the responsibilities that owning a pet entail. And maybe their lonely neighbor loves looking after their cat whenever possible. Whatever the fuller story, we don’t know. Yet, we judge. “If I were them, I would have never adopted a cat”. Here’s the thing; You are not THEM. We simply cannot fully grasp what is poignant in someone else’s reality. But the world expands when we swap instinctual criticism for empathy, recognizing that people are simply living their own valid lives.
Punk Rockers
When Linda and I recently arrived jet-lagged in Frankfurt from a 14 hour flight from Seoul, our taxi delivered us to the airport hotel we had randomly selected for a quick layover sleep before continuing on to Stockholm. Tired and looking forward to a quiet restful evening, we were instead confronted with a massive crowd of middle-aged black-clad tattooed-everywhere biker-looking people in varying states of inebriation, chanting and singing, swilling huge mugs of German beer, smoking and generally making a LOT of noise in the hotel lobby. Upon inquiring with the eye-rolling hotel staff (shouting really!) what the hell is going on, we find out that there’s a huge concert tonight at the soccer stadium nearby – apparently a reunion of a previously famous right wing hard-core skin-head speed metal punk band. And so our hotel is fully booked. We ask for a quiet room on a higher floor. Our hotel clerk smiles! Sigh!
The whole experience did make for an interesting contemplation however. “Who are these people?” I was thinking? Who gets excited about right-wing speed-metal anyway? Well, apparently plenty of people. Later the next morning we noticed the airport is full of these fans, flying off to their home cities all over Europe, some with kids in tow.….
My initial reaction, my gut instinct was to judge: A fifty-year old woman with an orange mohawk, tattooed face and studs in her nose, lips, ears, tongue, wherever. And holding her 10 year old son’s hand walking off to their gate. My! I have so many questions. And opinions! Even though, it’s none of my business!!! The thing is: I don’t know their story. I have no idea that this concert becomes the highlight of their summer. How this may be the best trip ever for the boy, spending time with his mom, listening to music (I was going to put “music” in quotation marks but I’m feeling charitable at the moment), staying in a hotel for the first time and falling asleep in his mom’s loving arms.
And when school starts again this fall, his teacher will ask: “How was your summer vacation Sebastian?” And he will say: “Best ever!! I travelled to Germany with my mom and we went to a concert together and stayed in a hotel at the airport with all my mom’s friends. I loved it!”
Maybe that’s the story. And who am I to disagree?
