Dammit, I did it again. I completely missed the point. Heart was open, eyes were closed. Want to see if you do better than I did?

So there I am, visiting LURN with some of my Southern California Leadership Network Leadership LA cohort on Friday. Merced, who is one of their clients, comes in to talk about the successful street vending and catering business she launched with her LURN microloan. And she looks at this room full of anointed SoCal leaders-in-training, and with her head held high and her voice full of strength, she says to us (in Spanish), “My hard work is every bit as dignified as anything that any of you do.”

Whoa. Such a strong moment. So inspiring to hear her stand up like that and express her value. I mean, right? That’s what I report out later to the full LLA cohort. There are nods around the room. Yes, very moving, several people agree.

Except.

Then another woman raises her hand. She is a person of color. “I had a different experience of that moment. I didn’t think it was inspiring. I found it very frustrating. Why should she even have to defend her value in the first place? Why don’t we already know that?”

Oh. OH.

Yes. Merced absolutely deserves admiration for her strength. But she shouldn’t have to use it in that way.

I missed it, because I’m still not good at seeing the systemic racist framework that keeps creating and recreating the problems I think I’m trying to help solve. It’s still part of me, this false hierarchy of human value where people who look and sound and work like Merced are automatically less-than.

Later, I went over to my fellow LLA-er and thanked her. “I wish I could self-generate these moments of really seeing through other people’s eyes. But until I do, at least I can listen and welcome it when someone gives them to me.”

“That’s a good start,” she said. And hugged me.

And so. Here I am, telling you this story because I want to live up to my Personal Rule #3: “See clearly through kind eyes, speak clearly with true voice.” At least I can do the second part of that. Even when I fail at the first part.