This past week, I had the profound privilege of visiting Goree Island in Senegal, a place steeped in history and unimaginable pain. As the ferry carried me across the waves, my mind drifted to the countless souls who had taken a similar journey centuries ago—not as visitors, but as captives. Stripped from their families and thrust into a harrowing unknown, they faced fear, uncertainty, and the complete loss of agency over their lives. I felt an overwhelming sense of connection to their anguish, an echo of collective trauma that reverberated through time.
Arriving at Goree Island, my initial reaction was one of surprise. The island, with its vibrant colors and picturesque scenery, resembled a serene resort. But the stark reality soon hit me: this was where slave traders lived, built their communities, raised their children, and worshipped their God. All while, mere steps away, human beings were shackled 15-20 to a cell in the House of Slaves, awaiting transport to the West Indies. The juxtaposition was jarring and deeply unsettling.
Decades of healing my own trauma and confronting my family's history of physical and sexual abuse have taught me a profound truth: there are no monsters or villains, only traumatized people who project their pain onto others. This realization struck me with greater clarity on Goree Island. The same mechanisms of 'othering' that fueled the transatlantic slave trade persist today in various forms—within families, communities, politics, human trafficking, and wars. It is this 'othering' that enables people to inflict harm on others without remorse, justifying their actions by viewing others as alien, as less than human.
It dawned on me that just as those slave traders went home each night to kiss their wives and tuck their children into bed, so too do modern-day human traffickers. This uncomfortable truth challenges the narratives we often cling to about good and evil. As someone deeply committed to co-creating a world that honors the inherent dignity in all of us, I realized that I must deepen my own capacity to listen—even to those whose views and behaviors I find abhorrent.
Andy Boyd's words resonated deeply with me during this journey:
“Compassion hurts. When you feel connected to everything, you also feel responsible for everything. And you cannot turn away. Your destiny is bound with the destinies of others. You must either learn to carry the Universe or be crushed by it. You must grow strong enough to love the world, yet empty enough to sit down at the same table with its worst horrors.”
This experience has strengthened my commitment to bringing greater conscious awareness to my own tendencies to 'other.' I am dedicated to creating safe spaces for dialogue, where we can begin to forge a shared understanding of our humanity—not to fix what is wrong with the world, but to remind each other of our shared need for love, connection, belonging, and authenticity.
Actions to Bring Awareness to 'Othering'
Reflect Daily: Take time each day to reflect on your interactions. Ask yourself where you may have made assumptions or judgments about someone based on their background, beliefs, or appearance.
Engage in Conversations: Seek out conversations with people who have different perspectives and life experiences. Listen actively without trying to convince or change their views.
Educate Yourself: Read books, watch documentaries, and explore stories from cultures, communities, and individuals different from your own.
Challenge Stereotypes: Notice when stereotypes arise in your mind and challenge them. Replace them with curiosity and a desire to understand.
Practice Empathy: Put yourself in someone else's shoes, especially those whose views or behaviors you struggle with. Acknowledge their humanity.
Create Safe Spaces: Foster environments where people feel safe to share their experiences and perspectives without fear of judgment.
By taking these actions, we can begin to dismantle the walls of 'othering' and build bridges of connection, compassion, and shared humanity.
My time on Goree Island has left an indelible mark on my heart. It has deepened my resolve to foster compassion, to listen with an open heart, and to work towards a world where every person’s dignity is recognized and honored. This is not just a call to action; it is a call to transformation—for myself and for the world I dream of co-creating.
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