Living in a red state, and even more, in the one of the most conservative parts of this red state, I have a few thoughts. Okay, I have more than a few, but you get the literary point.

I know people who are Republican. I love people who are Republican. I know people who voted for Trump. And there are people I love that voted for Trump. But how do we as human beings welcome the Other? How do I as a person that is terrified by a Trump/Pence administration?

My undergraduate experience of being entrenched in dialogues that invited in the Other through difference changed my life. But I also have to look back at who I was during that time. I had not come to terms with my sexuality, so the reality of being a lesbian had not reached the deepest parts of my soul. I had not converted to Judaism, although I had already rejected the notion of my taking Jesus as my savior, so there was a safety in my religious ambiguity. I was white. I was at a university that felt safe for the place I was at in my life. And when you feel safe in the world, you approach the world and the people in it very differently.

I wrote and promoted and taught dialogic communication. I supported my faculty who were experts and were encouraging me to change the world. I felt hopeful. And my grasp on that optimistic hopefulness came from a place of safety.

I find myself looking back at hopeful and optimistic Caty, and wondering what she would say to me. I don’t know if she would know what to say other than to love. But right now it is hard. How do I look at people who voted for a man that would rather I not exist? How do I invite people in, the Other in, when I feel betrayed and scared? I feel like I exist in a constant state of defense.

I have the innate privilege of existing in white skin. And that is a whole lot of privilege. I have the privilege of being cis gendered. That’s another huge privilege. I pass on any given day as a heterosexual, cis woman. Again, a ton of privilege. But I also live in that weird, and often uncomfortable, place of intersectionality. I am a Jew. I am a lesbian. I am living with a chronic mental illness. So how do I make sense of that dissonance in my own identity and body? I struggle, that’s how. And in that struggle I must find understanding and empathy.

I can hide behind my identity and education. I can talk down and through just about anyone, spitting off facts and theories that only those well versed in gender studies and communication could even begin to understand. I can be condescending. But that isn’t how you invite the Other in. That can’t be how I am.

I know good people that voted for Trump. I know good people that are Republican. I can’t ignore that. I can’t push that away. But by virtue of the color of my skin, and by cis gendered body, I can more easily reach across the aisle to the Other. Am I still risking my safety? There is that chance, and that is real and valid.

I can introduce myself to the Other. I can reach across the aisle and say hello, my name is Caty. Have you ever met or known or loved someone like me? Who are you? Tell me about what is important to you. I want to know you, and I hope you want to know me.

I tend to believe the best in people. I believe that no one, no matter how bad their intentions are, how committed they are to exploitation, that someone loves them deeply. I believe that someone loves them for who they are at their best and through their worst. I believe that if something were to happen to these people, the Other, if they were to die they would have someone who would grieve deeply for them. That is humanizing the Other. And we must do that.

I am looking at those who are in a state of fear in light of the political climate. I am asking that through your pain we find the humanity in the Other. Why? Because I expect that of the Other. I believe in the power of dialogue, even now in my pessimism and cynacism.

I honestly don’t anticipate change to happen without conversations and dialogue. I divide stays a divide when void of a bridge. Building a bridge is challenging, if not innovative. We define ourselves based on how we are different from the Other. But, somewhere along the way when some people gained and retained power and oppressed the Other, were those differences a matter of life, livelihood and happiness. As human beings our most primal need is to be safe and secure, this would constitute Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. I contend that sometimes we mistake a challenge to our world view, our morals, and our politics as an attack on our body and our safety. I will admit, I get that. As a person with certain privileges, I have found myself in that state of fallacy.

It is too easy to be condescending in a call to action toward inviting in the Other, and listening. It can be too optimistic to suggest that dialogue and listening will change the Other, but that isn’t the point. Listening, and dialogue is about self-transformation. We can’t change the Other, or persuade them if they aren’t open. We can’t coerce someone to believe in our view, and to submit to our will. But we can listen to open ourselves up for change. And that’s how we can change our world a little bit. Inviting in the Other won’t fix everything. It won’t keep certain human rights safe. But it will help us to retain some semblance of sanity. Maybe.