The
#TruthWarrior
Podcast
Ep 105:
On Rationalization of Trauma
Description:
Have you ever been told that your suffering is happening for a good reason? Now, how often people telling you that were those who’d never gone through the same suffering? How many times did they rationalize, trivialize, and diminish your lived experience of trauma, instead of practicing empathy and going out of their way to change things for you? Finally, how often was that rhetoric ushered in on the platter of “spirituality” or “life wisdom”?
Rationalization is a well known defense mechanism. We often use it to protect ourselves against the uncomfortable truth, including the truth about systemic inequality and injustice – particularly, when we live on the upside of it because of our privileged social identities (male, white, straight, middle-class, native citizen, Christian etc.) and when those privileged identities allow us to get away with bullshitting others and denying reality.
Rationalization is also one of the most common behaviors driven by shame, and one of the greatest barriers to empathy. At the same, trauma is one of the hardest things to practice real empathy around – since trauma is neurobiologically experienced as a threat to survival or a basic human need, connecting to that experience within ourselves – even if we know it full well – is extremely painful. Unless our respect for truth and our spirituality are bigger than our need for comfort, it’s easy to convince ourselves that someone else’s trauma happens for some good reason (higher purpose/spiritual enlightenment/God’s plan etc.) No matter how glaringly this argument contradicts reality, we will double down on it, in order to not get in touch with that person’s traumatic experience and protect our ignorance about our privilege – especially in cultures that, like America, revolve around the tale of meritocracy. As these processes happen mostly subconsciously, we don’t notice how rationalization of trauma moves us away from practicing the values that we passionately profess.
Join me in this conversation to explore in detail how rationalization of trauma shows up in our culture – and how we can speak truth in its face. Examples discussed include the aftermath of natural disasters in Puerto Rico, Flint water crisis, experiences of rape survivors, concentration camps for gay men in Russia, homelessness of LGBT kids in the U.S., poverty statistics in the U.S., and systemic oppression like #racism, #sexism, #homophobia, and #classism worldwide. We’ll dissect the ways in which unexplored privilege and need for comfort sabotage our integrity, and talk about the right way to respond to other people’s traumatic experiences. As long as rationalization remains our default response, there will be no room for critical awareness and no meaningful progress towards social justice. Rationalization of trauma is just as common in large-scale contexts (politics, church, celebrity culture) as it is in our individual relationships. Therefore, it’s our common responsibility to identify it, no matter what kind of rhetoric is wrapped around it, and then eliminate it from our thinking and our relationships.
Referenced videos: Brené Brown on barriers to empathy at RSA
Dear listener! 🙂🙌
At the moment, this podcast recording is only available as the audio version of my original YouTube video. As I don't have access to a dedicated studio and professional recording equipment, it's exceedingly possible that you will hear some noise in the background as you listen. As a recovering perfectionist and huge people-pleaser in the past, these things at times bother me perhaps even more than they bother you, and I shall be transparent with you around this.
Compromised sound quality was the cost I had to pay for filming my talks in the space that more or less resembled the setting of a middle-class Western life — the privileged setting in which, actually, I've never found myself throughout my life. The setting which, nevertheless, was required by the conventions of the YouTube genre. My Instagram and prospective YouTube audience — mostly Western, mostly white, mostly middle-class — would hardly want to see my talks, no matter the quality of my ideas, filmed in my POS car amidst Russian winter. My deficit of privilege, and the sound quality compromise I had to accept as a consequence, didn't mean I wasn't taking my content production seriously enough. As you watch, or listen to, my talks, you'll quickly see the substance and quality of my content. Those haven't come out of nowhere. They result from years of research, interviews, data collection, contextualization, and a very tough experience of my own artistic journey, the one I embarked upon against overwhelming odds.
My hope making these videos was to create added value for my audience around personal development, mental health, empathy, vulnerability, and human connection. Given the nature of these topics, I consciously chose to focus my efforts on authenticity and substance rather than on the form and technical aspects of my content. It's okay if you judge books by their covers and aren't interested in hearing from anyone who doesn't have a bleached smile, a professional microphone, and a nice Western [upper‑]middle‑class interior as their filming setting. It's okay if you have this unconscious conditioning, probably related with your own privilege, to see a person and their ideas as credible and worthy of your attention only if they look successful. It's okay, and it probably means my podcast isn't for you. There's plenty of content about relationships, personal development, and creativity made by middle-class, mostly white, mostly straight Western people that you might want to prefer over mine. However, it's been my existential observation that most powerful ideas and most transformative insights about life rarely come from people with privileged life experiences. They come from folks who'd gone through, survided, and constructively contextualized major trauma and oppression. It's not my merit or source of pride to find myself among those people. It does, nevertheless, make my experience of cultivating resilience, self-worth, and courage more profound and more impactful than those of people far more privileged than me. So whether you prioritize formal quality over the depth of the context or not, is totally up to you.
Please be informed, though, that in the future I plan to re-record my talks as audio podcasts with a better quality, in a noise-free enviroment (my car's the only one I can think of right now), and employ professional editing software to make them sound like "real", middle-class-American-standard quality podcasts. This conversion is just not in the cards for me right now, as I'm working three jobs trying to make ends meet after the COVID-19 recession in the already tanking economic landscape of Russia.
In 2019, recording 100+ video talks packed with substantial ideas took me almost a year of daily scripting, filming, editing, re-filming, being my own hairstylist, camera man, set designer, Web developer and Jack-of-all-trades-master-of-ALL kind of guy — juggling my other jobs to pay the bills at the same time. This year, having to work even more jobs and coming back to networking around my book project, I have very little time available for a work as time-consuming as re-recording podcast versions of my original talks.
As Pema Chödrön once said to Brené Brown about living up to everybody's expectations, What I do is enough. Amen here. From my disadvantaged place, doing what I've done for my audience over the years without any monetization so far, has been effing more than enough. So I do hope you get the awkward, brave message of self-compassion and self-worth — as a culturally subversive alternative to perfectionism — from my talks these days and act upon it in your own life. One day, I do hope to meet and connect with y'all from the professional platform, which, in my particular life, cannot come about from anywhere but years of hard work, unwavering commitment, and the increasingly difficult trust in the power of human connection. Until then, be brave, stay curious, say the truth, and take care.
Un abrazote (a huge Spanish hug) from me to y'all ❤️
Jorge