I read the other day that many of us, if not all of us, have large blind spots in our eyes. We only see so much of what is going on and our brains fill in the blank or gray areas with things that we think we should be seeing.
We sat in the dining area at Phoenicia and spelled out for one another the painful memories we have from our experiences as people of color. She told stories of being overlooked and misrepresented. I shared stories of feeling confused from being swung from one identity to another. We both lamented with tears in our eyes and apologies in our mouths.
I’m sorry that you have had to feel the pain of swinging from one identity to another and not knowing where you belong, she said.
I’m sorry that you have been overlooked and misrepresented and that I have contributed to that, I responded.
Take a sip! We giggled and both grabbed our coffees and took a big, warm, caffeinated sip, the healing waters of reconciliation and forgiveness flooding our eyes.
In this sacred moment, Red gave me sight. Red gave me freedom.
Story-telling has risky qualities. There are possibilities of being misunderstood, rejected, slandered, and misheard. If, however,we can move past the fear of feeling that our experiences might sound invalid, beautiful vulnerability can happen and when we open up and share with someone something that deeply hurt us or is sacred to our souls, we can then connect, empower, heal, bless and encourage one another.
I think that story-telling is gift-giving, is healing. It’s mud and spit, hurt and pain, sacred and reality being rubbed in our eyes and in-turn, our sight is restored and we are no longer blinded by our privilege and ignorance, but awakened and the eyes of our hearts are no longer filling the gaps with hurtful assumptions. Receiving the truth of another’s experience through their stories has the capability to widen our vision and give sight to the blind spots of our hearts.