Asking my class, What is it like to be you?

                In my Hands for a Bridge class, we’ve discussed the traumas and perpetuations of racism and colonialism; we’ve read and investigated poetry, autobiographies, stories, and essays, and we’ve thought about disruptions in our own local and national communities. Today, I interrupted conversation on Anu Taranath’s book, Beyond Guilt Trips, within which we’ve been thinking about the kinds of discomfort we face as we travel, and how we need to be open about these with fellow travelers, mindful and curious about what such discomfort is asking. Anu’s book is a lot about how to have difficult conversations about and across difference.

               The interruption today was therefore deliberate and personal. We wrote and then one by one we shared: What's it like to be you?

We carry different burdens and hurt out into the public: So what do you carry, in public or in conversation? What is it like to be you?

                The sharing was full of heart and pain. Students told of anxieties, relationship to bodies, spirals of thoughts, masks they wear, bullying, pressures to succeed, illness endured, protective walls they’ve built, all the while throwing supportive comments to each other, silently, in the chat.

               It was such ponderous and lonely weight they were sharing, so much private toil and sorrow.

               In response, there was a distinctive slowness, an alert quiet. Everyone nodded and held still, radiating presence and care.

               I’ve never done this in a class. Only a few times in my career I might have tried. In a physical class, we would have tossed desks aside and sat in a close circle on the floor, just to see reflections in each others’ shining wet eyes. Today, we were squares on a screen, throwing compassion to tiny faces in random spots on a computer, and still it moved.

               Afterwards, we wrote of our pride and gratitude to each other, and the testimonials still scroll there, like footprints in a sidewalk that show we’ve walked together.

               We were raw and open and loving to the end.