# Embracing Dialogue: The Importance of Addressing Microaggressions
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Chapter 1: The Need for Open Conversations
My wife possesses remarkable patience and wisdom, putting up with my musings on various topics. Recently, our discussion shifted to the microaggressions exhibited by a relative. I questioned whether we should confront them directly, to which she suggested it might be more constructive to guide them on how to improve. I couldn't help but admire her insight.
The subject of microaggressions is undeniably complex. Tackling them directly often feels like an uphill battle, where finding common ground proves challenging. However, I remain hopeful.
Over recent years, as societal divides have deepened, I’ve participated in insightful Zoom discussions hosted by my professional network. These conversations featured panelists who delved into significant issues such as anti-Asian hate crimes, addressing the biases and stigmas that have historically affected these communities. Throughout these sessions, the persistence of microaggressions faced by minorities came into sharp focus.
As a participant in these community discussions, I was struck by the panelists' ability to navigate such sensitive topics. Their professionalism often gave way to personal anecdotes that revealed vulnerability and strength. By sharing their experiences, these speakers contribute immensely to society, helping to dismantle the stigma surrounding racism and microaggressions.
If I were a more skilled communicator (which I certainly am not), I would encourage others to engage in similar dialogues with their peers, whether through workplace initiatives, local nonprofits, or professional networks. I'd emphasize our shared responsibility to confront microaggressions in order to pave the way for future generations.
I almost penned that type of post. However, an old adage came to mind: When you point at someone else, three fingers point back at you.
About two years ago, I was catching up with a colleague from a volunteer group. Our conversation naturally shifted to reflections from a recent meeting, and she expressed appreciation for my input. Then she casually mentioned, “When I first met you, I found you a bit intimidating.” I was taken aback. “Really?” I asked, confused. “Yes, because you’re so quiet,” she replied.
This observation lingered with me. I wasn’t offended; rather, I was bewildered. How could someone perceive me as intimidating when I had spent my childhood being bullied and ostracized for various reasons? I was often too skinny, awkward in sports, had a speech impediment, and was labeled a nerd. The list goes on.
Friendships were scarce, and the years between them sometimes felt endless. As I navigated school, I noticed cliques forming along racial lines, isolating me further. I felt too brown for the white kids and too white for the brown kids. My parents, with their more singular racial identities, often wondered why I struggled to make friends.
This social isolation led to silence. As a shy child, I further subdued my voice, avoiding attention and conversation. This quietness followed me into my teenage years. Though I achieved good grades, people attributed my reticence to my studious nature.
As I transitioned into adulthood, I forged a few friendships, even marrying my girlfriend. My social life improved dramatically compared to childhood, yet I remained reserved. My parents would often remark, “He just grew out of it.”
Returning to my friend’s comment about being “intimidating,” I found myself questioning the disconnect. How could a shy, bullied child become perceived as intimidating?
While it was tempting to dismiss her remark and avoid overanalyzing it, I chose to reflect deeply. Perhaps there was a kernel of truth in her observation that I had overlooked.
Throughout adulthood, I have preferred not to be the center of attention. My mixed heritage taught me to be courteous, often allowing others to speak first. This belief, combined with my childhood insecurities, made me think that being reserved was a virtue, especially in professional settings.
However, I began to recognize that my tendency to remain silent might be interpreted as standoffishness. I recalled my childhood experiences with the strong, silent types—products of toxic masculinity—who loomed large in my formative years. Silence became part of my persona, along with its subtle implications.
Reflecting on these moments made me realize how I could have improved various situations but often chose silence instead. As I examined my behavior, it became clear that I, too, had inadvertently contributed to microaggressions.
This process of introspection may seem trivial, akin to overreacting to minor grievances. However, it is crucial to confront microaggressions, especially when one is both a target and a perpetrator.
I maintain that microaggressions result from both individual actions and systemic issues. Individuals may make harmful, subtle comments, whether intentionally or not. I strive to view these slights through the lens of someone who can advocate for greater empathy and understanding. This commitment extends beyond lectures and discussions; it encompasses daily interactions with my community and the values I aim to instill in my children.
When we shift the focus from "them" to "us," empowerment flourishes.
This isn’t an attempt to downplay or excuse others’ microaggressions. No sweeping generalizations here. Such viewpoints do not facilitate progress, and we desperately need to move forward.
With language grounded in respect and aimed at fostering understanding, we can work towards a better world—one small effort at a time.