Category Archives: empathy

Ahead of Her Time

Anna Julia Cooper

Anna Julia Cooper (1858–1964) put no limits on the intellectual potential of Black people, Black women in particular. Her own intellectual and educational achievements are a testament to her firm belief that women’s opportunities for learning and education should not be less than or different than men based on assumptions about women’s capabilities.

 I’m particularly drawn to the life of Anna Julia Cooper because she did it all: was a leading Black spokeswoman; held leadership in women’s organizations; founded the first chapter of the YWCA Camp Fire Girls for Black girls; served as principal and teacher in the “renowned Dunbar High School in Washington, DC;” started a night school for working people to attend college; and authored a seminal book on Black feminism, A Voice from the South.

Even as she focused her energy and attention on cultivating the potential of marginalized people, she also continued to work on her own education. In 1924, Cooper received her Ph.D. from the University of Paris, becoming only the fourth Black woman in the United States to earn a doctorate degree.

Despite these extraordinary accomplishments of a Black woman born in the South and formerly a slave, what captivates me most about Dr. Cooper is that she didn’t seek attention. Dr. Paul Cooke, one of her biographers, wrote that she chose the “lesser light.”

She was dedicated to a larger cause than herself and refrained from crediting her own achievements. An example of Dr. Cooper’s humility is what Dr. Mary Helen Washington shared in her Introduction to Cooper’s Book in the Shomburg Library Collection of Nineteenth-Century Black Women Writers.

“In 1982, when Louise Hutchinson, staff historian at the Smithsonian Institution, completed her biography of Cooper, she called for an official Smithsonian car and hand-delivered the copy of the biography to Mrs. Regia Haywood Bronson, the eldest of the five children Anna Cooper had adopted in 1915.

“Then in her late seventies, Mrs. Bronson took the book from Hutchinson, and holding it to her breast, she rocked back and forth with tears streaming down her face, but not saying a word. When Hutchinson asked her why she was crying, Bronson said, ‘Nobody ever told me Sis Annie was important.’”

Yes, Anna Julia Cooper was important, indeed, in advocating for social justice and equality of rights for all people and the education of Black women, in particular.  

Living to be 105 years old, she lived to see a celebration of Black History Month and Women’s History Month. She would have been pleased to see the theme of the 2024 Women’s History Month—Women Who Advocate for Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion.

Sources:

Anna Julia Cooper Project: cooperproject.org/about-anna-julia-cooper

Introduction in the Schomburg Library Collection of Nineteenth-Century Black Women Writers: Cooper, Anna Julia. A Voice From the South. (United Kingdom: Oxford University Press, 1988).

Unselfconscious Unfiltered Thoughts and Feelings

My trove of handwritten journals was rich with details of day-to-day happenings and interactions. The feelings I had when I wrote them were memorialized in my heart and bones. Sometimes I had to take a break from reading them because the visceral reactions were more than I wanted to re-experience.

When I wrote my journals by hand, my engaged emotions helped me see my inner self—that soft place that needed protection. I didn’t judge myself for having unpleasant emotions. As I wrote about the interactions or situations that caused these emotions, I allowed myself to feel merciful toward the “me” that only I understood.

These journals showed me that believing in myself was the kind of faith inculcated within me since I was a very small child. During my middle years, I would have been completely lost without this bedrock faith. In my journals, I recorded how my beliefs in the greater good sustained me time after time.   

It was in my handwritten journals that I thanked God for those I encountered who had a generosity of spirit and showed warmth when I needed it. It was in these handwritten journals that I was honest about my limitations and worked hard to be objective and fair in observing others and, more importantly, my responses to them. The real learning and change came from being wholly with myself in reflection and humbleness.

When I switched to keeping my journals online, apparently, I did not trust the medium with my deepest thoughts and tender feelings. For some reason I found myself not sharing my secret voice. In reading excerpts from my digital journals, it’s clear that I was not using them as a source of self-reflection. My journals became one dimensional. I recorded what can be thought of as a public record of what was happening and when.

My epiphany is that journaling is not simply the words recorded; it’s the meditation and process of writing one’s unselfconscious unfiltered thoughts and feelings.

Dousing the Fires of Inhumanity

I woke up and looked at the clock. It really was 3:00 in the morning. “Oh no,” I thought. “I hope I can get back to sleep.” Because I usually sleep well, I tried to recall my activities from the day and evening to try to figure out what could be causing me to wake up and not get back to sleep.

After about an hour of tossing and turning, searching for the best position to invoke sleep and playing mind games equivalent to counting sheep, my mind was pulled toward the ubiquitous, never-ending negative news stories of the day.

Wars and their devastating physical and psychological human toll and our inhumanity to one another as exhibited through political maneuverings, the cutting cruelty of social media, and random killings, some out of a belief that some people are worthy to live and others are not. As I ruminated about these things, I was overwhelmed by a deep sadness and tears slowly leaked out of the corners of my eyes.

My sadness caused me to think about the title of my website: The F.I.R.E. This Time. Inspired by Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time, the title I chose in some ways reflects my pessimism about us humans.

Though there are ebbs and flows, there is always Fire. Sometimes there are Fires all over the world and little fires everywhere all the time. What are these Fires?

What I call Fires is what David Brooks describes as “the rising culture of dehumanization . . . tribalism, racism, ideological dogmatism, and social media.”  (“A Humanist Manifesto: The world feels like an awful place right now. Here’s how to make it better.” The Atlantic, October 24, 2023.)

Brooks describes dehumanization as “any way of seeing and acting that covers the human face, that refuses to recognize and respect the full dignity of each person.”

Described as such, dehumanization is the root cause of all the Fires. What ignites these Fires is humans thinking that there is only one right way, one right answer, one point of view and other ways of thinking or viewing are wrong or bad and must be vanquished, destroyed, and annihilated.

Some ideas Brooks suggest for conserving humanity that resonate with me are what he calls humanistic wisdom and empathy.*

Brooks shares that it takes humanistic wisdom “to be able to understand one another to some degree, to see one another’s viewpoints, to project respect across difference and disagreements.” If this is all we must do, why do we feel helpless to confront the problems we see and hear about? What can we do as individuals? How can we exhibit humanistic wisdom and empathy?

It’s obvious that we can’t contain world Fires, but we can contribute to dousing the flames of little fires. While even controlling little fires is no easy task, it is something that each of us can do in our everyday interactions, even our casual encounters. Instead of accusing as a first instinct, we can practice the habit of first accepting and hearing.  

An attitude of acceptance and hearing sets the tone for humanistic wisdom and is a meaningful step toward empathy. Brooks’ understanding of empathy is “first mirroring—accurately reflecting the emotions of the person in front of you. Second, mentalizing using your own similar experiences to project a theory about what the other person is going through. Third, caring…. To care, you not only have to understand another person: you also have to perform an action that will make them know that you understand how they feel.”

We should be grateful for the many good people who try to be empathetic by mirroring and mentalizing in their encounters with others. It’s the third part of Brooks’ description of empathy—caring—that is often missing from our relationships with “the other.” If more people could care about “the other” because it’s the humane thing to do, we could chip away at the kindling that keeps these Fires of hate and aggression smoldering and eventually bursting into flames.

Our history demonstrates that there was fire last time, and sleepless nights cause us to ruminate on the fire this time. Sadly, if there are not more demonstrations of humanistic wisdom and empathy, there will undoubtedly be Fire the Next Time.

word cloud in shape of two hands reaching toward each other with primary words in one being "I HEAR YOU" and "CONNECT" and the primary word in the other hand being "EMPATHY"

*In fact, the FIRE in the title of my blog is an acronym that’s long been a touchstone for me, of which ‘empathy’ is a component, so I guess I’m not entirely pessimistic. Following are the components of the acronym:

  • Fate/Faith
  • Integrity/Initiative
  • Reflection/Respect
  • Energy/Empathy

WORD

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

John 1:1

As the Writers’ Strike continued toward the 100-day mark, I thought, “If the industry cannot afford to compensate writers adequately and provide new rules regarding work requirements and the industry’s use of AI in the future, they should just shut down.”

I understood the need to withhold the goodsthe talentif those who use the talent do not compensate in what the writers think is a fair and just exchange.

It’s not just the strikers and their kindred supporters, we consumers have a role in this tug-of-war between the talent and the industry. As the box office revenue from summer 2023 demonstrates, we love the movies. If we can’t go to the movies, what’s the use of having time off work or being retired?

Our big screen televisions bring us a cornucopia of entertainment choices. Now that we have brought these streaming services and networks into our homes and on our portable devices as essential parts of our lives, we imagine ourselves yoked to them. Whether we are consciously aware of it or not, the television has become as necessary and normal in our homes as a bathroom. We just take both for granted until the toilet is stopped up and the writers stop writing.

As the Strike dragged on and there were stories about the hardship writers and attendant talent were experiencing, it may have appeared that the writers were at a disadvantage in the negotiation struggles. But you and I knew it would be just a matter of time before the tug-of-war would end.

Because “…in a culture where words are all that is left as weapons, it’s words that make the universe.” (How the Authors of the Bible Spun Triumph from Defeat. Book Review of “Why the Bible Began: An Alternative History of Scripture and its Origins” in The New Yorker, August 28, 2023, by Adam Gopnik)

Doing Unto Others

Temperatures of 116 degrees Fahrenheit couldn’t scorch the magnificent tapestry of my birthday. Just being alive and in good health was enough, but my cup ran over with well wishes from friends and family near and far. Thank you all.

It’s not the same for everyone, but I appreciate being remembered on my birthday. However, I’m learning that what pleases me may not please someone else.

Like me, you might think that everyone wants to be remembered on their birthday. I have discovered that this is not true. This discovery makes me think that it’s not always best to “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” Instead, I read somewhere that we should “do unto others as they would have you do unto them.” This is an acquired skill that I’m attempting to master.

I wish you everything that makes you happy.

Albert (Mack) Tate

Mack Tate

My brother-in-law—married to my baby sister, Regina, for 47 years—passed on Monday, June 26. My heart aches for all of us who knew and loved him. My hope is that we will all find comfort in knowing that he was a man who lived a good life as a loving husband, father, grandfather, and friend, to name just a few of his many roles.

I send a special prayer to my sister whose grief is inconsolable. Mack, who she knew from when they were in grade school, was the love of her life. And she was the love of his life, whom he loved steadfastly and with tenderness seldom witnessed.

He was the steady hand as they raised their children. He anchored the family with his calm dignity. He brought joy when he smiled with his eyes as his large, strong body shook with laughter.

We love you and miss you, Mack.

Removing Roadblocks

Many community college students are true immigrants to higher education. To them, going to college is as foreign as finding themselves put ashore in a strange land.

Once they embark upon a college education at the community college, often their main concerns include how to pay for their course work and how to juggle their myriad responsibilities in order to find time to study.

Often, their plans include getting as many courses done as possible at the community college at lower costs before continuing toward their four-year degree.  

They are proud of these hard-earned credits. However, too often they find their safe harbor disrupted when they discover that many of the credits earned at the community college will not transfer or be accepted by their choice of a four-year college.

More than 40 years ago when I worked at a community college, the most time-consuming and frustrating parts of my job as a counselor and academic adviser were to work with students who were being stymied in their progress because the community colleges and four-year colleges could not come to agreement on which courses taken at the community college were “equivalent” to courses at the four-year college. I think now as I did then: If community colleges are “colleges” and faculty who teach the courses are qualified and students meet the requirements, why are there questions about equivalences?

A recent story on Marketplace Morning Report noted that when transferring from a community college to a four-year college, about “43% of college credits don’t end up counting toward a new degree.” The reasons for this lack of cooperation and consistency between community and four-year colleges seem to be about money and hierarchy.

With less funding from states and counties and increasing infrastructure costs for colleges and universities, four-year colleges continue to raise tuition as a source of revenue. Done intentionally or not, having students repeat courses already taken at community colleges is another source of revenue.

Then there is the hierarchy. Community colleges that were created to give opportunities to a broader spectrum of students in their own communities are often described in unflattering terms. Rather than being seen as a way to level the playing field, the hierarchy is preserved when the gatekeepers at four-year colleges stand in judgment as to the worth of the credits earned at community colleges.

Students have little say or control about the transfer of credits and suffer the consequences of being stuck in the middle. If faculty from the two types of institutions cannot agree on what is acceptable in courses of the same or similar names and descriptions, then it may be time for outsiders to interfere further in the business of the professionals in higher education.

If outsiders are allowed to make decisions about what is appropriate to be in the curriculum, how teachers teach, and what books are in the library, why not take this interference further and mandate articulation on course transfer between community and four-year colleges? The time is long overdue for leadership to require that the roadblocks to complete articulation between community and four-year colleges be removed.

On being transgenerational

What I fear about aging is becoming conspicuously and stereotypically old. I’m not talking about the natural physical and mental changes that accompany aging. What I fear is the calcification of my attitude and outlook on life. I want to avoid falling into the trap of thinking according to a generational divide and believing that I must stay on my side of the generation gap.

Each generation has its place in the continuum of time, and unfortunately there are negative comparisons coming from both directions. Past generations create myths that support their belief that they were stronger, smarter, bolder, cooler, braver than succeeding generations.

The younger generations, because they are more technologically advanced than previous generations, see a mirage that indicates to them that they are more savvy and capable than the generations that came before them.  

I want to know what I need to do to continue to be relevant and engaged in the continuation of human prosperity for all generations. I want to take a walk in the athletic shoes of younger generations to try to feel what it must be like to be facing an uncertain economic and social future in today’s world. I want to meet younger generations where they are in their interests.

I feel extremely lucky when I have the privilege to have conversations with the newer generations. I’m eager to understand their views on representation and culture; family and values; work and play; politics and human interactions. If they want to hear my perspective, I’m happy to share. However, I do not believe that because I’ve lived longer and have more experience in some things that I, and others like me in older generations, have the insights and knowledge to change the trajectory of the future. As in all things, I believe that shared knowledge among diverse groups is essential for optimal outcomes.

I do now believe–and always have–that our upcoming generations are our hope for the future. My hope for myself is that I can be a help and not a hindrance to the work that they must do. One way that I plan to avoid being conspicuously and stereotypically old is to be transgenerational. I want to cross the generational divide by accommodating to the new order of things. I want to lessen the distance of the generational gap by being in the moment with what’s happening now.