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Belonging - Blame
My hope at the end of this project is to create something where you can follow the webs of connection between the words as they strike you. I want to find a way to hyperlink these so that you could choose your own adventure. One person may resonate with one word differently than another and find their own way through this wall of text.
Belonging
Belonging is what happens when we’re not just allowed in the room, but the room is built to quietly assume we’re part of it.
It’s the feeling that my presence is already accounted for in how this space works, who gets listened to, who gets invited back.
Not tolerated. Not managed.
Included. Expected. Wanted.
It’s more than being friendly. It’s being willing to become a guest in someone’s life. To bear witness to their stories and their lives and be willing to be changed by them.
When we belong, we know it in our bones. Those spaces cultivate empathy, imagination, and creativity. But perhaps what they do best is allow us to set down the performances we rely on to get through a day and rest.
Smiles come easier, so do the frowns and when we belong, people notice both and get curious. Not in a “fix you so we’re comfortable” kind of way, but in a “you matter, how can I share your joy or pain?” presence.
These are not only hard spaces to cocreate, but also hard spaces to accept when we’ve been lonely or marginalized throughout our lives.
I think belonging is most evident when anyone can enter a space with a quiet sense of, How will we be changed by each other today?
See: community, connection, dignity, empathy, equity, loneliness.
Bias
I couldn’t write this book without bias. This voice, this tone, this style, they’re all tilted by my experiences and what I’ve decided works.
A bias is that tilt. It’s the shortcut our minds reach for when there isn’t time (or energy) to rethink everything from scratch. What works for us, what has “made sense” so far, becomes the lens we look through.
Bias can pull us toward some people and quietly away from others. It privileges certain data, a belief, a story, a kind of person, and convinces us to ignore what doesn’t fit, usually in the name of speed or sanity.
No one we meet will be without bias. We all interpret life through lenses we’ve built over time.
Some biases shape taste and preference. Others shape who gets believed, who gets blamed, who gets a chance.
“Everyone has biases” isn’t an excuse though; it’s a starting point.
When a bias shrinks our world or makes life harder for other people, we need to get curious before it does harm we can’t easily undo.
See: confirmation bias, stories, privilege, stereotypes, curiosity, ethics.
Binary
We love a clean split: you’re either with us or against us. Safe or unsafe. Right or wrong.
Binaries are efficient. But, they’re like coloring with only two crayons, cooking with only two ingredients, playing in a league with only two teams. Can it be done? Sure. But it flattens what’s possible.
Binaries can be a useful starting point: good/bad, in/out, yes/no. Our brains like to sort things fast; it feels safer when we know which bucket something belongs in.
The trouble starts when we treat those first buckets like the whole story. When life shrinks down to good parent/bad parent, success/failure, win/lose, we risk erasing people, potential, and possibilities. We end up operating with an incomplete set of data.
Often, binaries grow out of fear and confusion: I don’t understand this, and I need a simple rule to feel okay. If we never move past that, we end up defending the rule instead of staying curious about the person in front of us.
Most of life lives in the in-between: both/and, sometimes, it depends. The more we can tolerate that space, the easier it is to stay in relationship with people who aren’t just like us.
We don’t have to get rid of every binary. We just have to remember that the people we love, and the people we don’t know we’ll love yet, deserve more than two crayons.
See: complexity, curiosity, discernment, belonging, equity, double bind.
Bio-psycho-social-spiritual
So, this is the most social-work-y of social work things. And once you sit with it, it’s pretty obvious.
Biology – we have bodies, and they impact our health, energy, pain, and pleasure.
Psychology – we have minds and emotions and patterns of thought, and they affect our sense of wellbeing.
Social – we are a part of, and sometimes apart from, communities. That shapes our sense of self, our connection or isolation, and our experience of loneliness.
Spiritual – many of us are trying to make sense of our experiences. We create meaning that often pulls us beyond ourselves and into a greater awareness of our place in the world.
The goal isn’t balance (that’s bullshit, if you remember). It’s acknowledging how these parts of our lives keep intersecting.
My body hurts, and it’s affecting how I interact with people.
I’m feeling down, and I’m not reaching out to my friends like I normally do.
That experience was amazing; I wonder what it tells me about myself and the world.
When we lean too heavily on one part, it crowds out the data from the others.
It would seem that the more we’re able to zoom out and experience a fuller picture, the gentler we can be with ourselves.
See: embodiment, emotions, family systems, faith, meaning-making, community.
Blame
I didn’t expect this one to be so hard to write. I blame my tendency to privilege responsibility and accountability as core human actions.
I think that’s what blame is, at its best: an attempt to point at where the pain lives and who needs to be held accountable. We want to know who or what is at fault.
Who did this?
How did this happen?
How will it get fixed?
Sometimes, it’s just as simple as a name, a person, or a single experience. And in those moments, justice may come quickly.
Other times, the story is more complicated, and blame gets in the way of justice and repair. It turns a system in need of change into a single, identifiable point, which may give us a little relief but doesn’t really shift the circumstances.
It gets even more tangled when we blame ourselves for things that were never in our control. In those moments, blame and shame move in together.
If only I were stronger.
If only I didn’t provoke him or her.
If only… If only… If only…
There seems to be no end to self-flagellation. It doesn’t bring justice, and it doesn’t hold the appropriate party responsible, especially in situations where someone else or some system kept us unsafe.
Blame isn’t useless. It can be a relief when the truth finally lands where it belongs.
The hard part is tracing the story carefully enough to see where responsibility really lives, and what we want to do with it once we know.
See: responsibility, justice, shame, repair, discernment.