When “Humanity Matters” Becomes Controversial

Last night, I found tears coming down my face as I realized how far the world has come and how much I’m beginning to understand why we’re going through what we are in the United States of America, but also in much of the world. We’re losing our sense of belonging. Our sense of “I belong here,” and in that, “I know what to do, and I know how to show up and it’s safe.” It’s safe if I get it wrong, because they understand where I am coming from. This part—”they understand where I am coming from”—is something a lot of us are missing in our understanding of our current place in time.

I am talking to every single human with a heart and mind open and willing to hear. I am talking to myself, first and foremost, as it’s unproductive to write for likes or follow count. I received an incredible honor to be a speaker at a conference last spring and was unable to confidently share this because I feared “Humanity Matters” was going to be taken as a threat to some of my close family and friends. I didn’t think this when I was in the process of applying and genuinely believing and excited about the future, but by the time the conference rolled around, the world felt and looked very different to me and I lost my confidence in the very thing I deeply believe in making space for discovering—humanity.

The conference was incredible, and I’m grateful for those continuing this journey with me who signed up from that specific event. But while this felt like the peak of possibility professionally, personally I was still trapped in old narratives that made me believe I was a mistake and a fraud.

The what-ifs linger. What if instead of cowering, I spoke to those who see this as a threat as an invitation? I cannot say, but what I do know is, I’m letting go of the silence and am getting used to the discomfort of knowing who disagrees with me or believes me to be the impostered version of me—they never would’ve heard no matter how I shared it. I need to start opening up, because it’s more important for the person who needs to hear it and the world of possibility it could do for them.

I see my silence as selfish now, which for most of my life I lived believing I was vain and ostentatious for being loud and fully present wherever I am. This is unconscious learning, I am in the process of shedding. I am stepping into my FOSED era. Growing up, my sisters and I had a term, FOSED, which stood for “full of self,” which we turned into a verb. We used it to keep each other in check whenever any one of us seemed like we were getting too big for our britches. Well, I unintentionally trained myself to connect being big with being vain. If you’ve heard me sing or talk, I was not born to be soft or quiet, so connecting it to vanity was clearly someone else’s training for me. I’m grateful for my sisters, who’ve always been by my side encouraging me to believe in the vision of me I finally am fully living as: me, Mallorie.

The Roots We Keep Ignoring

I was raised to believe in a faith that is forgiving and that my life should bring more love and understanding despite my discomfort. “Turn the other cheek”—I’m still learning this, but I know, for me at least, I want to live in this level of strength and faith. My husband and I come from very different backgrounds, so I feel confident in saying no one way is right, we all have a way and we need to stop acting like the difference is not something we need to address and look at honestly. I beg to offer, it’s a big root that we’re ignoring every time we weed—politically, geographically, whatever the garden you’re tending to, if you miss the roots, the same persistent weed will develop.

I think we can see in America, in much of the world—the seed of discomfort, the seed of “how dare they,” the seed of “where did they come from?” “What are they doing here?” “Who do they think they are?” It’s everywhere. The roots are deep, we’re not addressing the issue and the issue is us. It’s humanity. We do not know how to live with people if we find ourselves triggered in a place of discomfort—either judging or feeling judged and attacked. We’re judging all the time, and because of that, we’re living all the time exhausted by the judgment that’s everywhere.

Watching My Son Navigate What I Couldn’t

I also am realizing he is one of many diverse young little kids in his kindergarten grade and I imagine many are new and this is their first experience of school in a “big” way. As I sat there listening to him happy to be playing with his friends again, it hit me—the minority in his class represents the very majority that caused my early fears of self-worth. I see myself in that dynamic, but reversed. I can’t let him inherit my silence about these tensions. I saw my first love and I thought of him alone and unsure where he belonged in the sea of color. I’d like to believe this does not play a part for any kid whose home and community life is not as diverse as their school life. However, I know today, even in Columbia, MD—this is rare. For most of us, we live in silos and when we feel like we arrive somewhere and we are the outsider, it can easily evoke a sense of anxiety and fear.

I can’t get my son to ask all kids to play with him. I don’t want my son to feel bad for playing with the people he knows and feels comfortable with because they’ve done school together. I don’t want him to unintentionally be a kid who makes someone sad, who then gets mad and… Being a parent today is really hard in the world we’re living in and I feel often out of control in doing anything to navigate or change the path and direction of the life we’re living. I will note, I cry at the end of a lot of Bluey episodes, so my son understands “happy tears.” Which, they were. He really sounds like he’s owning that playground. This said, I’m also starting to better hold space for the place of unknowing many are feeling and that uncertainty itself is a very real fear if it’s one that feels threatening to your everyday experience of comfort. Bittersweet tears. Bittersweet.

Columbia, Maryland’s Living Legacy

I believe in a world where all kids can find a place where they feel like they belong. No matter their background—how long they’ve been here or where they come from—no metrics for deciding if I see you and if you have value. You’re someone’s loved one. So long as you don’t mean harm, why would I see you as a threat? This is the Columbia, Maryland in me. The living legacy of the bright future of the darkest parts of our American history here in the United States of America.

There are very real harms and threats everywhere and there are very real harms and acts of terror that have taken place for many people on this globe. I do not say this to make light of the tragedy in our human suffering. I’m more curious to know what others are doing to help make more space at their tables for bearing this knowledge and opening up our mindset from believing we know, to the space where we sit in the unknown.

Breaking the Cycle of Silence

I am grateful for my incredible community of family, friends, colleagues and acquaintances. I am beyond blessed by the circumstances of my birth and the choices I’ve made and that were made for me. I love sharing known moments with people I know and love, but I just wonder what might we discover if we opened ourselves up more frequently to extending our value outside of the comfort of known bounds?

Every week I show up here, wrestling with these tensions, because I don’t want anyone to be the kid who doesn’t feel like they belong—and I know for some it might feel justified, but to what end if all we’re left with is a battle of raging fire for our next generation to contend with?

That’s what I’ll do my darnedest to always offer at Frank & Ethel’s—a place to not always get it right, but so long as your heart and mind are willing, my doors and space will do the work to sit with you so we can figure it out. I can’t tell you how much I’ve sat with people through difficult conversations and remembered seeing my mom as a little girl, navigating parents and kids and making space for them to figure it out.

We need more space to figure it out and a place without judgment is the only way we’re going to get there. I’m not here to be a punching bag, but I am here to be a playground that’s monitored for us to figure it out.

Let’s find a way to heal our inner kids so we can do the work to sit at the table and find a new way forward. Love for the human—we can work through all else.