I wrote about a subject I’m not very comfortable with yesterday: guns, specifically people who lawfully carry concealed weapons. It was not an easy or comfortable post to write-it pulled me out of my Comfort Zone. (Note to all of you who find yourselves here because you followed Robert’s link from TTAG: I typically write silly rants about WalMart, or I document something my kids said, or maybe there’s a recipe-complete with musical accompaniment, or worse yet for all of you red-blooded gun-owners, there’s…a poetry section. Occasionally I even tackle politics and religion.) I know. You’ve found yourself in Total Chick-ville. I told you: that gun thing was me stepping w-a-y out of my field of expertise.
But I am very glad I did. Because The Truth About Guns posted my piece, I had the good fortune to contribute to the larger conversation about guns and gun owners there as well as the much smaller one here, and the comments, both those in agreement and those that did not agree with me, were for the most part thought-provoking and valuable. My thoughts were obviously those of a romantic wanna-be poet, and they didn’t tackle any of the more serious aspects of issues relating to guns or gun violence, but they did further the conversation people are having about gun-related issues, and I am glad about that. As I read the comments posted in response to my thoughts, Atticus’ voice whispered to me about climbing into the skin of those with opposing viewpoints.
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view… Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it.” -Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
For many people, reading my post was…weird: many were questioning if it was some sort of joke or satire, or if I was “real” (whatever that means). Encountering someone willing to look at an issue from a different perspective is sadly not a common thing, and I say that with the assumption that many of the commenters on the piece yesterday are voracious readers.
I would challenge them to do the same thing, hopefully with more guts than I showed: to consider the issues they are passionate about from the opposing view. Either their convictions will become deeper, or unknown truths will be exposed. Fair warning, though: it’s not exactly easy to seriously consider a point of view that makes you uncomfortable. From experience, I can tell you it’s very hard, because there’s a real risk of your mind…changing. This side effect of curiosity has left its mark several times in my life, with varying degrees of havoc being wreaked as a result.
I come from an ideologically settled world where it was understood that there was no need to question the Established Interpretation or the Established and Approved World View, and doing so could be considered and act of Open Rebellion: I was raised Baptist, grew up baptized (the word means fully immersed) in fundamental Christian doctrines, beliefs, convictions, and standards of behavior. I was a baptist preacher’s wife for many years. When I began seriously considering opposing religious (and non-religious) points of view in an effort to confirm my own beliefs, the ground shifted beneath my life in no small way: nearly every time I sought to solidify a firmly held belief or conviction by holding it up to scrutiny, that belief or conviction sunk in an ocean of quicksand.
“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand.” -Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
To say that was slightly bone-jarring would be an understatement, and so I didn’t want my children to encounter the same ideological earthquake when they reached adulthood. I purposely began creating an environment of questioning things when they were young. I spent the majority of my parenting years homeschooling my kids, and the focus of that education was literature. Often, I would read my children classic literature told from the point of view of someone whose views and life experience were wildly different than our own. My kids and I climbed into the skin of Muslims and warriors, ranchers and kings, American sailors and Japanese puppeteers. We walked through the mountains of China with Gladys Aylward, and faced the accusation of witchcraft with Quakers. We walked into the street with Atticus when he shot the dog and sat with Jem in the colored balcony as Atticus defended Tom. Atticus affected them.
“It was times like these when I thought my father, who hated guns and had never been to any wars, was the bravest man who ever lived.” -To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee
My children began to question things. I would frequently assign them papers or projects that forced them to defend a position with which they disagreed. What developed in them, aside from a real irritating love of intense debate, was far more than just a good vocabulary and an appreciation of fine writing; they developed a love of learning, and a greater love: my children developed a deep love and empathy for humanity.
Empathy and critical thinking are risks. They often require one to act in order to be true to oneself. In my case, one of the end results of my brushes with attempted Atticus-like thinking was a divorce. My children now attend public school, and I now spend my days doing graphic design work in a cubicle. Like I said: the ground shifted. (I’m not comparing myself to Atticus-that would be arrogant to the point of foolishness, just noting that I have attempted in my own small way that walking around in other people’s skin thing.)
Things have a way of working out, though: my ex has found a new happiness he never would have found with me, and my life has opened up in ways that surprise me every day. I may now have a different world-view than I had five or ten years ago, but real change is an indication of growth, and I needed to grow, though the pain that resulted is very real, and has not been without its scars. The price has been steep, but I can look in the mirror now, and that’s a precious thing.
“They’re certainly entitled to think that, and they’re entitled to full respect for their opinions… but before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.” – Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee