The Case For Talking To Your Racist Grandpa

I spent my childhood angry and arguing. Growing up gay and Jewish in Alabama, I was always arguing that lighting candles on Hanukkah didn’t mean I’d burn in hell, or explaining to male friends that homosexuality didn’t mean I was attracted to them. It left me constantly on guard, waiting for the next person to tell me how I, as a human, was “wrong.” Needless to say, I was excited for the progressive promises of university. And I was right, for a while. I fell in love with college; I could finally dive into a community of smart, like-minded individuals.

I easily adjusted to passing remarks that Southerners “are conservative hicks who care more about their guns than their children” and “shouldn’t vote if they can’t understand the issues”—comments I myself sometimes thought back home. But recently, hearing disdain for my culture has left me defensive. Am I really sympathizing with and defending the “Southern hicks” I had just escaped?

[su_pullquote]Liberals assume that conservatives misunderstand for fault of not listening to our logic. But in reality, we’re the ones not listening.[/su_pullquote]When people disagree, they often mistake differences in fundamental beliefs for simple misunderstandings—especially in politics. Liberals explain and re-explain why their opinion is better, while conservatives fight to have their viewpoints seen as valid. Liberals assume that conservatives misunderstand for fault of not listening to our logic. But in reality, we’re the ones not listening. Too easily, humans holding their own stories and views become “the right,” a set of ignorant ideas and beliefs that “the left” must teach into agreement. We focus on our differences so intensely that we become blind to our similarities.

We frequently see media comment on widespread divisiveness, but few offer solutions. The root of the answer is a principle that has been known to social scientists for decades: humans are hardwired for compassion. Differences and conflict may drive division, but empathy drives collaboration.

Unfortunately, empathy won’t trickle down through policy. It cannot be passed in a bill, declared in an executive order, or handed down through court opinion. It must be a collective choice expressed through the actions of individuals—all with the ability to empathize, albeit with effort. We must practice empathy casually—daily, small efforts to understand someone who we are in contention with—towards friends and opponents alike.

[su_pullquote align=”right”]Sometimes, all it takes to disarm someone is to put down your own sword.[/su_pullquote]I remember having a conversation with a friend—we’ll call her Kristen—who, ironically, “outed” herself to me as a pro-life conservative. She described constant fears of revealing her beliefs, not because they’re extremist or unreasonable, but because of the baggage being labeled “conservative” carries. We liberals scoff at bigots for boiling groups of humans down to one aspect they find disagreeable, but think of how easily we write off someone after finding out they voted for Trump. Being intolerant of an identity is a far cry from being intolerant of different political views. But both have the same result: division. Sometimes, all it takes to disarm someone is to put down your own sword. Validate not necessarily their ideas, but their worth as a human.

Of course, empathizing with someone doesn’t include adopting their beliefs or abandoning your own. Empathy simply asks us to acknowledge the essential humanness of someone who sees and thinks about the world differently. It does not limit arguments nor weaken them. In fact, feeling heard and valued makes us more receptive to collaboration, particularly in contrast to being insulted or ignored.

[su_pullquote]Venture out of the echo chamber, or stop expecting change.[/su_pullquote]University wasn’t exactly what I expected. Calling myself empathetic is easy, but doing it is hard. College opened my eyes to how we listen to each other. We are divided, and that’s okay. We’ve become so hyper-aware of “our side” that we forget conflict is normal in democracy; it even pushes us forward. It brings new ideas, compromises, and collaborations. Instead of shying away from conflict through division, we should dive into the experiences that drive it. Empathy doesn’t have to be a dramatic gesture, but rather a daily practice.

Venture out of the echo chamber, or stop expecting change.

Prior to learning of Kristen’s beliefs, we were already friends. Without that connection, I instantly would have put her in the box she so feared. The empathy was circumstantial, an accident of already knowing her, but it taught me that empathy is a choice. In that moment, I chose to understand why rather than just argue.

I don’t know about you, but I’m so tired of being angry. I’m tired of arguing with “something” rather than someone.

Now, those who hate my religion or fear I might come onto them at a sleepover are met with gritted teeth and my best attempt to understand. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s a start. The next time you begin to put someone in a box, pause. Choose empathy. Too much is at stake for you not to try.

If nothing else, you’ll find their humanity.

Max Klapow ‘21 studies in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at maxklapow@wustl.edu.