What Derek Chauvin Embodied, Besides Racism

The force employed by the officer whose knee asphyxiated George Floyd clearly displays a culture that disregards the power of vulnerability, an issue just as pervasive as racism.

A few Sundays ago, as I prepared for a virtual painting workshop, I realized my paintbrushes were nowhere to be found. Last I knew of them, they were soaking in the sink after another paint night I had with my family a week prior. That night, I'd told Mom that I'd let them soak and would wash them later, but when "later came", I realized that she'd washed them before I could. When I asked my mom about the paintbrushes, she couldn't remember what happened to them; she thought I'd stored them away. I was sure that I did not.

She insisted. I insisted. I couldn't recall her giving them to me. My blood started to boil: “I told you that I would take care of them and you ignored me and washed them anyway. Now you don't remember. See? You should’ve left them in the sink!" My poor mom was going crazy looking for them. I was frustrated because now there were 10 minutes left before the class. Then, all of a sudden, it occurred to me to check my crafts box. I walked towards the box, opened it, and low and behold... I found the paintbrushes... I remembered at that moment that Mom had handed them to me once they were completely dry.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how stupid do you think I felt?

I felt like a bully. If you’ve ever felt such certainty, to the point where your self-righteousness made your frustration vocal and assertive – almost aggressive – you know that coming down from the high horse feels immensely uncomfortable. It's embarrassing. Shameful almost. You feel foolish. When we’re on the high horse of self-righteousness and our sense of certainty causes us to blame people, and then suddenly we realize we were wrong all along, it's difficult to come down the horse, park it, and acknowledge our mistake. An immediate shift is only possible by embracing that icky feeling... by embracing the power of vulnerability.

"Blame is a way to discharge pain and discomfort." – B. Brown

It is only when we embrace this discomfort and we will ourselves to shake off the embarrassment that we can say: "Geez, I am acting up... Hey, it turns out I was wrong after all... I'm sorry for creating tension and hurting you.”

My mom was silently thankful for my hug and for owning up to my overreaction.

The Forgotten Muscle

It takes about 3 seconds to swallow one's ego in these situations. It's an inner shift that we are all capable of, but it takes practice. It takes intentional training of this emotional muscle called vulnerability. I’ve been training my vulnerability muscle ever since I started therapy two years ago. Vulnerability is a trait that we often think of as a weakness. But all it is that moment when we realize we need to park the horse, swallow our egos, and be tender. It is the moment we let our guard down. When we feel vulnerable, we feel exposed and human, often because it usually means we show the raw, imperfect parts of ourselves.

According to Brené Brown’s research and data, vulnerability proves itself “absolutely essential to wholehearted living”. In her TED Talk, The Power of Vulnerability, she explains this trait as "the willingness to say “I love you” first, the willingness to do something without guarantee of success or reward, the willingness to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out, the willingness to stop controlling and predicting..."

Vulnerability is the trait that allows us to be messy and uncurated. We feel vulnerable when we send a text to the cute guy we like and he doesn’t answer back, when we ask a girl out and she doesn’t reply, when someone rejects us, or when things are going really well (because “oh no, when is the next shoe going to drop?!”). This all feels scary and risky, so we often put our guards up. This is perhaps why Toko-pa Turner in her book "Belonging: Remembering Ourselves Home," calls it vulnerabravery. She says: "[...] instead of putting up our defences when we meet with conflict, vulnerabravery is the conscious choice to keep our heart open so that we might discover what’s hidden within it. It is a great paradox that when we let ourselves be undefended we find our true strength."

"When we numb, we numb everything." – B. Brown.

I can attest that parking the horse, swallowing the ego, and choosing the path of vulnerability requires a strong will. I, myself, are constantly challenged in this respect. Brené Brown continues to say that our vulnerability muscle is at the core of shame, fear, and our struggle for worthiness, and it is also the birthplace of joy, creativity, belonging, love. The more we train this muscle to navigate the yucky feelings, we become better equipped to experience the nicer feelings. Unfortunately, the more we numb the unwanted guests (i.e., vulnerability, grief, shame, fear, and disappointment), the more we numb our ability to feel joy, gratitude, and love. We numb our humanity.

Vulnerability, Authoritarianism, and The Police

Recently, I've begun to wonder how the current state of affairs can be a reflection of our collective darkness. We live in a punitive state where we praise policing and, therefore, authority. Yet, in our leaders, we see a lack of emotional intelligence, a lack of vulnerability. Perhaps this is why the president wants to literally put up walls around our nation ... This is not about politics, though, it's about our hearts. I believe that Chauvin's underdeveloped vulnerability muscle is another reason why he couldn't stop himself from asphyxiating Mr. Floyd.

True leaders take ownership of our foolish reactions and we swallow our egos, even when, half-way through our self-righteous act, it occurs to us that we are out of line and perhaps, wrong. Surely, and unfortunately, the Academy doesn't train our police officers about this superpower, and, we don't grow up receiving an emotional education in schools either. So, I'm convinced that this explains why Chauvin could not stop himself and acknowledge that, while he was right about having to make an arrest, he did not have to do so by letting his machismo kill someone.

It would have taken immense amounts of vulnerabravery for Chauvin to look down at minute three, despite being recorded, despite being on the highest of horses, stand up, and say “Gosh… what... what am I doing? I’m being a monster, I'm sorry. Sir are you alive? I have to take you into the car, but are you breathing alright? I heard you say you couldn't breathe.” But he was jaded by his false sense of power. Unfortunately, he lacked the true emotional strength to snap out of his desire to remain "right". He chose to stay on the high horse. And, unfortunately, while not all police officers fit this archetype, many do.

I wonder how many times did Chauvin have to numb his emotions to get to the point of murdering someone in broad daylight, in the name of "authority" and "safety" and "justice"? Some may argue that establishing authority is necessary to uphold safety. I think that relying on this false sense of authority is deteriorating the sanity of our police officers and the safety of our communities.

Why not, instead, recognize that we are violating people's basic rights to education, health, and housing and that we have an outrageous number of inmates and children in our country's prisons? We've become insensitive to the fact that we are building an empire on the shoulders of our brothers and sisters, including our police officers, who do not get sufficient training nor mental health support to do their jobs. And so, we live in a society that values and finances authoritarianism over basic human needs.

Racism Is Not The Only Thing We Get to Dismantle

In conclusion, I think there's more than racism at play here. Chauvin metaphorically shows us another dark part of ourselves and we see that our persistent self-righteousness hurts us – it can kill us. I see Chauvin as a vivid symbol representing our policing state, and Mr. Floyd as representing not only Black lives, but the lives of all humans whose basic rights to education, health, and housing have been blatantly denied. Just like we have a duty to challenge racial injustice and violence, I believe we also have a duty to challenge our desires to be right and to hide behind gigantic walls. We get to challenge our desires to be perfect and appear strong. We get to open our hearts and begin the mastery of our vulnerability so that we may build true power.

I wonder what the world would look like if we were all willing to befriend our discomfort and embrace our vulnerability – our tender authenticity – in moments when our ego wants to climb up the horse? So, the next time you find yourself on the high horse of self-righteousness, I invite you to explore the other path. Not only will you allow yourself to live from the heart, but you'll find that by mastering your vulnerability muscle, you gain true power and an incomparable sense of confidence – a quiet confidence. In turn, we'll allow ourselves to live a wholehearted life and gift others the fortune of doing so, too.

Stay compassionate, speak up, and take action. xx Sulafa