![]() ![]() We can look for this in meditation when a judgment about something comes up, gently ask “Where did that come from?” Or we can do it whenever we notice ourselves believing a judgment we’ve held for a long time. The programming is deep, it’s systemic, and it’s been going on for a long while.Īnd while these thoughts may not be ours, we are the ones responsible for them-for knowing them, understanding them, and if they are causing harm to ourselves or to others, for letting them go.įortunately, just seeing how these thoughts are society’s, not our own, can be profoundly liberating. Years of boys being called on more than girls in class, of Black kids sent to detention, of women in hijab being judged, of all-white-male corporate offices, of having to choose a certain bathroom to go to. Many years of family rivalries and school bullying, standardized testing and beauty pageants, sports tournaments and fashion trends, racial segregation and sexual harassment. All of these thoughts about who belongs and who doesn’t, who is trustworthy and who isn’t-all of this was constructed for you over many years. Whether you’re in a dominant group, or a marginalized one, or both. That’s true wherever on the social hierarchy you believe yourself to be, whatever your gender, sex, racial identity, nationality. ![]() From conversations, from the way people looked at us, from advertising, from the kids in the schoolyard-word by word, moment by moment. I didn’t construct the comparisons in my mind. You are thinking the culture’s thoughts.” He said (paraphrased by Jane Fonda, who popularized it): “You think you’re thinking your thoughts. I love this quote by the great, late Indian spiritual teacher, Krishnamurti. I didn’t invent the markers of good and bad – the aromas, the clothes, the house. I was caught in the dynamics of domination. I assumed from the media and culture around me that my neighbors were getting it right-and we were not. So, in my attempt to fit in I sported pastel Izod shirts and Gloria Vanderbilt jeans. Comparing my family to those around me, it was clear we were different. Their homes more closely resembled those of other friends from school or even the homes I saw on TV shows like The Brady Bunch. As a child, I learned to make comparisons: between our simple red brick house (which was rented rather than owned and the smallest on the block) and the large spacious homes of our neighbors between the spicy, pungent stews that my mom cooked-which gave a savory aroma to our house-and the cookies and the pastries baked by the other moms that left a sweet scent in their homes between our African tapestries and sculptures carved from ebony and the flowered drapes and wooden toy chests of my neighborhood friends. And based on the messages I was getting from the media, my school, and my peers, it was clear that I was supposed to prefer the American (and white) one. In my case, I was always comparing the two separate cultures I most inhabited: American and Ethiopian/Eritrean. Whether we believe ourselves to be ‘other’ or believe those unlike ourselves to be ‘other’, these norms are dictated by the society around us, by our families, communities, and cultures. What’s so important to notice-for Ana, for all of us-is that these mental patterns aren’t even yours. These messages became unconscious patterns. As the oldest child and the one most academically gifted, she received messages, often in the form of praise, that she had to be responsible and succeed in order to ensure her family’s survival. ![]() Inner critics develop in us initially as survival strategies, monitoring and prescribing ways of behaving that allow us to stay safe, get love, and find well-being-but often they outlive their usefulness, and cause us harm.įor Ana, like many immigrants, her inner critic insisted that she be not only good, but the best. I encouraged Ana to work with what in popular psychology is called the inner critic. Society rewarded Ana for this with achievement and accolades, but took its toll on her body and mind. They also quickly absorbed the American drive for academic and material success. The family never acknowledged the trauma of living through Franco’s Spain and all that they lost (family, culture, connection) in their immigration. Growing up, she felt responsible for her younger siblings, and she chased success in order to honor her parents’ hard work and sacrifice. She had graduated from the best schools, had worked at the top of her highly competitive field in interesting jobs around the world, had a wonderful partner-and always felt that she was not enough.Īna is the oldest daughter in a loving, working-class family who immigrated to the US from Spain. I once had a coaching client, Ana, a beautiful and brilliant scientist in her mid-thirties, who unrelentingly appraised her success, never believing it was enough. ![]()
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