Nothing gets me reflecting quicker than getting mad at a stranger.
A few weeks ago I wrote about a lady I’ve never met yelling at the check-in guy at an airport.
What I didn’t mention is that, in the end, she wasn’t kicked off the flight.
In fact, she ended up sitting right across the aisle from me.
And the whole time – instead of drinking cocktails and watching one of the Bourne movies like every other sensible passenger – I was thinking about her.
Here were the voices in my head:
- Damn, what a jerk!
- What question could I ask her to understand her better?
In the end, neither voice dominated so I ended up back with Jason Bourne. (quite sensibly)
I just couldn’t give her the permission to change.
Last weekend, the same thing happened, except I was the asshole, sharply accelerating on a small backroad.
I’ll spare you the details but it was clear to me that:
1. I’m not always an asshole.
2. I needed permission to change.
3. I wasn’t getting it.
And instead of asking for what I needed, and having a little cross-legged healing circle on the ground, I just drove off. There’s a term in psychology related to this: Identity Foreclosure. It’s when somebody commits to a sense of self – goals, roles, and values – and stays there. Thus limiting the unceasing process of evolution that is our destiny.
I think we do this all the time to each other.
On one level, it’s what stereotypes are all about: I don’t need to ask you about the textures of your life because I can get the general story from your skin color, fashion choice, and bumper sticker.
There are obvious problems with that.
But this is a bit subtler.
Sure, it can be hard not to judge a book by its cover.
But it’s even harder to give someone permission to be different than the behavior you just observed.
But how else does change happen?
What if that moment was absolutely critical for that person?
What if was the moment when they decided to double down on the jerkiness – yelling at people, bullying, making bombs, running over pedestrians, whatever – or they realized “that’s not me at all”?
How does our identity foreclosure of them influence their identity foreclosure on themselves?
And if it has any bearing at all – and we all know which way it would lean – shouldn’t we just REVEL in that power?
The power in every shitty interaction to hold open the elevator door to transcendence.
We can all say:
“Hey!
I’m not going to judge you or confine you to your patterns.
I’m holding open the door to your future self.
Sure, you might still have some fixed mindset and some identity foreclosure and some commitment escalation.
But you didn’t get it from me. “
Ankur Shah Delight: Community and Conflict 