A post by Em Walsh

The choice to love is a choice to connect – to find ourselves in the other. 

bell hooks

Imagine the following two scenarios. The first involves a conversation with a friend. My friend has told me they are experiencing discrimination for being Latinx at university. They tell me that they are mocked for not having sufficient knowledge of their second language after having just moved to the university from abroad. I respond with a quiz instead of comfort by querying what proof they have that it is legitimate discrimination over someone having a bad day at said university.

The second involves an encounter with a stranger, a new student in my class. She tells me that, as a woman, when she wants to speak in class, she cannot, no matter how hard she tries. When I ask her why she responds that she feels like she has a choker on that tightens after every word and that she imagines others in the room could tighten it too. Rather than try to imagine what she is going through, I respond by saying that she should raise her hand and speak. I haven’t tried to imagine what it feels like to have her experience of talking.

In both cases, I have failed my friend and the stranger. The question lies in how exactly I have failed them.