Lately I’ve been alarmed to catch myself dehumanizing other people. Just casually, you know. I’ll check the weather, read a headline, tell myself “WHOEVER WROTE THAT MUST BE HUMAN GARBAGE,” check my email, make some tea…

I do it all the time. I don’t even think about it. It just happens automatically, like breathing. At least if I were some sort of malcontented misanthrope, I might get some pleasure out of it. As it is, I’m just quietly horrified at myself, and honestly a little curious about how things got to this point.

And so I figured it was about time for a conversation with myself.

Me: Hey. Self.

Self: Yeah.

Me: Whatcha doin’?

Self: Whattaya mean? We’re making tea. Do you want English Breakfast or Earl Grey?

Me: Let’s pay a visit to the Earl today. But no, that’s not what I meant. Did you not notice how we just called a stranger human garbage without even bothering to find out anything more?

Self: What more did we need to find out?

Me: Well. I mean, I haven’t thought through the specifics, but, like…shouldn’t we be treating people more like humans? Even in our mind?

Self: Why?

Me: What do you mean why? Are we barbarians? Are we churlish cads with no decency?

Self: …Yes.

Me: No! We’re not. We are human beings, and human beings deserve to be treated with dignity by other human beings.

Self: ‘Kay.

Me: Which means that we also have the responsibility to treat others the way we hope to be treated. With…patience. And kindness. And understanding.

Self: You want half ‘n’ half?

Me: Yes, please. Just a splash.

Self: Sure thing.

Me: …

Self: …

Me: Why aren’t you more bothered by this?

Self: Oh. Are we still talking about that?

Me: Self!

Self: What? I thought you were having a flashback to your kindergarten teacher days, since you were treating me like a child. Is that how you would want to be treated, Miss Carrie?

Me: Okay, fine. Forget it.

Self: Oh, come on. I was joking. You do know how to joke, don’t you?

Me: Of course I do. You just put your lips together and—wait. No. Don’t try to distract me!

Self: But it’s so easy to do.

Me: Well, quit it.

Self: Alright. Can I ask one question?

Me: Sure.

Self: What’s the point?

Me: What do you mean?

Self: Won’t it take some of the…well, the spice out of life, if we’re all watching every word we say and walking on eggshells in case—heaven forbid—we should offend anyone?

Me: Oof. That’s a pretty cynical view of the world, Self.

Self: Shrug.

Me: Did you just say the word “shrug” out loud?

Self: Nod.

Me: You know what? I’m just gonna leave that there.

Self: Finger guns.

Me: I mean, as frustrating as it is, you can’t control what other people think, right?

Self: Not with that attitude.

Me: So why focus on something that’s fruitless? Why not devote our energy to relationships? And sorting ourselves out? The rest isn’t any of our responsibility.

Self: Okay, that all sounds fine, but what if you’re definitely right and the other person is definitely wrong? Doesn’t it make sense to point that out to them?

Me: Yeah, but am I talking to an idea or am I talking to a person?

Self: Eh?

Me: Sometimes I wonder if, when I argue, I kiiind of want to tell the other person that they are wrong. Not their ideas, but them. As a human being. Or maybe I’m afraid, secretly, that they will try to claim that I am wrong, so I want to beat them to the (sometimes literal) punch.

Self: Come on. You’d never punch anyone.

Me: That’s true. I am an avowed pacifist.

Self: Well, that, plus you have the arm strength of a baby snake.

Me: Snakes don’t have arms.

Self: …

Me: …

Self: Wanna go down to the river?

Me: Yeah! Wait. No. Focus, Self!

Self: We’re seriously not done with this?

Me: Almost.

Self: Fine, continue. But make it snappy.

Me: Okay. Well, here’s what I think. Everyone is doing their best, at any given moment.

Self: Ha!

Me: You don’t think so?

Self: I think it’s a nice, simple-minded idea, but no.

Me: Are you doing the best you can?

Self: Probably not.

Me: Well, I am. Most of the time. I think. I definitely carry a ton of guilt and shame over mistakes I’ve made in the past, but overall I guess I see how I was doing my best at the time. And as soon as I realize I can do better, it’s another moment, and during that moment and the ones that follow, I generally do better, and that becomes my new best. Or else I admit that I’m not up to better at the moment, and so that means my best could theoretically be better, but then it wouldn’t be my best, it would be a platonic ideal of behavior.

Self: That was confusing, and thus I reject your point.

Me: What I’m saying is I have to believe that everyone is doing their best or I will genuinely go insane.

Self: Okay, kiddo. Don’t strain yourself.

Me: I’m truly no better or worse than anyone else. Not when it comes down to it. My actions might be better or worse; my ideas might be more or less valid; but when it comes to our worth…there’s no difference.

Self: Okay…

Me: Which means I have no leg to stand on if I start to conflate someone’s worth with their ideas or actions. People are just people.

Self: This is a confusing conversation. We should go rustle up a snack and forget all this.

Me: I know I’m being confusing. I know. I’m sorry. I’m just realizing the amount of work I have to do.

Self: That sounds unpleasant.

Me: You sure do betcha it does! But it’s good for us, Self.

Self: I’ll be the judge of that. What does all this work consist of?

Me: I’m not totally sure yet. Especially because this doesn’t only happen with people I disagree with. Sometimes my life experiences will tell me someone is dangerous because they have the same color eyes as someone who made fun of me one time.

Self: Brutal.

Me: Yeah. It’s not anyone’s fault; it’s an unconscious response. My squishy little brain is trying to keep me safe and happy. But it still causes unnecessary distance. I have so many of these learned fears that ultimately serve no purpose anymore. They’ve kept me from being close to so many people, and I fed those fears for a long time because I thought it was the wisest thing to do.

Self: Well, of course. Intimacy is the greatest threat to our well-being. Why don’t more people understand that?!

Me: No, yeah, you’re right. Intimacy is the worst. But relationships are sort of all there is to life. All that really matters, anyway.

Self: Well, that and a nice pot roast.

Me: True. But it’s pretty insidious, this dehumanizing thing. It sneaks in like a goblin in the nighttime—

Self: Like a goblin?!

Me: —and it muddies up our connections. We tell ourselves lies like…oh, I don’t even know. There are so many.

Self: Like, if everybody doesn’t approve of us all the time, then we are garbage people.

Me: That works.

Self: And they are garbage people for making us feel like garbage people!

Me: Even though we were the ones who tricked ourselves into thinking we were garbage people in the first place. And so to avoid that, we start acting differently in hopes that everyone will like us.

Self: Story of my life.

Me: But really, all that does is set up fake friendships. They don’t mean anything. Nobody else can see who we really are, and we’re so preoccupied with trying to please everyone that we end up missing the friendship entirely.

Self: I feel attacked.

Me: This is what I’m saying. You and I have a lot of work to do. So here’s what we’re going to do, Self. We’re just going to practice.

Self: Practice what?

Me: Seeing other people.

Self: See, you say vague things like that and expect me to understand, and it just really slows down the conversation—

Me: You’re right. Okay. Let me try again.

Self: Go ahead.

Me: Gimme a minute. This is complex stuff. Or it’s very simple and I’m just dense. Either way.

Self: Take your time, champ.

Me: …

Self: …

Me: Okay. I think I’ve got it. Or part of it, anyway.

Self: Enlighten me.

Me: I just want to try not to get so distracted anymore.

Self: Good luck with that.

Me: This is oversimplified, but I really believe that the basic point of life is to be loving. I always think that sounds so simple and nice, but when it comes down to it, I’m not great at it. So much gets in the way—mostly defense mechanisms.

Self: Word.

Me: But how can I keep allowing myself to treat people so clumsily? I can’t be content to see them through my own misconceptions and fears. A person exists outside of my conception of them. What I see of them—their appearance, their habits, their words and actions…those things aren’t them. There is a person underneath all that who is bursting with intrinsic worth, and I have a responsibility to honor and encourage what is true. I mean, don’t you find that when you treat someone a certain way, they tend to respond accordingly? So if we treat everyone like they’re truly, honestly worthy of being loved, then…well, I don’t know what would happen. It would change us, for sure.

Self: You make that sound relatively easy, but…and honestly, I don’t say this to be mean, but you’re hardly the first one to come up with this idea.

Me: Obvs.

Self: So…

Me: Well, that’s part of it. I’ve been taught this concept so many times before, by so many different people, in so many different ways. But it was only when I saw how bad I’d gotten that I really understood what they meant. It’s so frustrating that you have to experience all these life concepts firsthand. You can’t just memorize them like an algebraic formula.

Self: To be fair, how many algebraic formulas do you remember?

Me: Very fair.

Self: So.

Me: So.

Self: This is the thing now.

Me: This is the thing. This is what we’ll be practicing for the next…oh, six or so decades, if we’re lucky.

Self: We’re going to need help.

Me: Which is hard for us, yeah. Luckily, there are tons of people who know much more about this than we do, and asking for help can be the first agonizing lesson we face.

Self: You sure you don’t want to start out learning something easier first? Like quantum physics?

Me: Nope. This is it. Might be the most important thing we ever do.

Self: Okay, then.

Me: Alright.

Self: Let’s get to it.