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Seeing with Others’ Eyes – Today’s Imperative

I recently tried on my son John’s glasses just to see how his vision compared to mine. What a shock – we’ve been looking at a different view of the same world. His close-up vision is great, but without glasses, he can’t see anything past the length of his outstretched arm. My distance vision is fine, but I need corrective lenses to see close-up.
Right now, we’re talking nationally about our different visions; the problem is we often think we’re seeing the same world. For example, take our views of local law enforcement. I grew up seeing the police as friends to me and my family – because they were. When we had problems in our neighborhood, they were there– reliable, stable, fair, and helpful. We lived next-door to a policeman – a good guy and neighbor. To my family, the Pittsburgh police stood for safety and principled service.
Twenty years ago, my co-workers and I watched the OJ Simpson verdict being delivered. I could see a clear racial divide among friends and colleagues. I could not understand what I was seeing. I realized I was missing something right in front of me. Even then, some stuff I couldn’t see up close.
Over the next several years, I read a lot of social and cultural national history, which included stories involving police conduct unlike what I (or my friends like me) had experienced. In addition, my African American friends told me about brutal events and indignities involving their local police — part of their own histories, but not mine. For them, bad encounters with the police were a life-threatening hazard. They told me about the serious talks they had to have with their children to keep them safe and alive. My dear, overcautious, always-anxious mother worried about everything all the time, yet never thought to warn me about law enforcement encounters. Had she missed something as far I was concerned? I don’t think so. Even she had to prioritize her fears for me, the son she loved so much.
I will never have the same history and experiences that my friends and colleagues from different backgrounds have had or heard about throughout their lives. Nor will they have mine. But, if we are ever going to address conditions that drive us apart, ones that breed distrust and resentment, we had better learn to listen and reflect on the experiences of those whose lives and histories are different from our own.
As I write this, my son is recovering from eye surgery that he had this morning. If all goes well, a relatively minor procedure will correct his vision. I hope our ability to listen and reflect on the experiences of others, including people we know, trust, and rely on as friends and colleagues, will help all of us repair our limited vision as well. Those with the best sight see distances and close-up without distortion. Having one without the other requires correction.

1 Comment
  • Ellen Talisman says:

    Stephen as your sister I completely concur with yours and my experiences with the police growing up in Pittsburgh. In contrast, it is incredibly disturbing that our friends, neighbors and co-workers of color have disproportionately experienced a frightening reality. I have witnessed it numerous times in my life and always walk away with the same feeling of great sadness . A very dear friend of my husband and myself is African Anerican and his wife is Caucasian. He is a school social worker and his Caucasian wife is a doctor . He towers over his wife at a height of six and a half feet. He is meticulous in his dress , highly intelligent , well spoken, gentle and compassionate man. Previously he played professional basketball which afforded him the opportunity to become a world traveller. His experiences with racism and discrimination were mind boggling. He recounted instances where he did not feel welcome in local restaurants, was mistreated in a local coffee shop by a staff member, constantly looked at by others in a suspicious way and was always nervous around the police. He lived in an upscale neighborhood on Long Island. My husband and I enjoyed numerous dinners at their home and ours and many dinners out together. When we were told they would be moving closer to Manhattan we were devastated. Part of the reason for the move was proximity to the city for work but that was not the only reason. It had to do with daily discomfort doing the normal chores and activities of daily life. The backward glances others gave them, the sneers. He constantly experienced the implied attitudes that he did not belong , maybe he was up “to no good.” The stress of living under this scrutiny took its toll
    on him and his wife and they felt they needed to move to a more tolerant and accepting neighborhood. They moved several years ago and whenever I drive past their home where my husband and I experienced so much humanity, love and joy, I can not help but feel that a part of my heart has been irreparably broken.

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