Pink Pitchforks (Part 4): Power and response-ability

Creatorship of safety and other life lessons earned

This essay is a continuation from Pink Pitchforks (Part 3): Safe spaces in community.

Reframe on accountability

What does it mean to be accountable? The word itself points to an expectation that one must render an account or tell a story. An accountable person is duty-bound to share their version of events. This act of “accounting” is the critical communication step that comes before facing consequences for one’s actions. But when we’re hurting, it’s easy to skip the part about listening to the other person’s side of the story, and jump straight to punishment.

Playing the perpetrator “whack-a-mole” game is a compelling temptation. Everyone loves to hate a good villain. We know how the police chase scene in the movie gets the heart racing; and the power to punish can give us a dopamine rush. There’s also the self-satisfaction of doing something to save imagined future victims from certain danger.

The “whack-a-mole” game is exciting, but also exhausting. Whether you hit your target or not, two seconds later, a new one appears. Playing this game generates a lot of motion without real movement. It can distract us from the inner work that actually brings major shifts.

It’s not a stretch to see how focusing on punishment can be personally draining, or even how successful punishment might lead to a false sense of security. What might be less obvious is how it can be counterproductive for the collective. For every perpetrator pinned, a dozen more are in the making. This might seem like a radical proposal to some, but I see reasons to believe that the more publicly we lynch a villain, the further we get from a culture that fosters safety. 

We can imagine at least two possible scenarios when bystanders (potential future offenders) witness a witch hunt. Possibility number one: The witness thinks of themselves as a good person. Fearful of being vilified in the same way, they go underground with their needs and desires. The root issue worsens as their approach grows less direct and more manipulative. Possibility number two: The witness is a consciously opportunistic predator. Watching the witch hunt helps them get clever about who to target and how to hide more effectively.

Despite the dopamine-high it can provide, it’s debatable whether outing offenders publicly makes us safer in the long run. It is certainly no substitute for walking the path of our own healing. 

When something bad happens, we have a choice. Do we want other people to suffer consequences for their misdeeds? Then we pursue punishment. Or, do we want to find freedom from our own suffering? Then we seek healing.

Of course, going after both things is also an option. But as we figure the “accounting” balance of our time and energy, let’s consider that whatever is invested in pursuing punishment cannot be invested in seeking healing.

In my inaugural Substack essay series about my personal experience of sexual trauma and recovery, I shared how never having the chance to punish the man who raped me was beneficial for my healing process. (I don’t assume this to be true for everyone, but I can say that it was true for me.)

Transmuting pain into power

When we feel hurt, it’s normal to want to strike back. I have now met intimately with this feature in myself: the desire for revenge. It’s not pretty. We are wired to promote an image of our value and virtue, and to defend against projections of lack or defect. When threatened, egos will fight fiercely for the self-concept of righteousness — as if it’s a matter of life and death. To that end, we meet aggression with aggression.

In calm clarity, we naturally teach from our own learning. It’s not about rolling over helplessly to let people “get away with things.” The paradox is: we can speak up when we’re mistreated and also mind our own business, instead of putting ourselves in charge of other people’s learning. We don’t need to drag others into lessons they don’t want — or are not ready to receive. We can try, but it won’t work.

It is challenging to unsubscribe from a culturally-ingrained, victim identity. The mind is reinforced to think we are acted upon by others and done to by life. We need to press pause to override this program. This is a critical initiation in self-responsibility, which is an essential foundation for freedom. 

When we examine the thoughts of hate and words of blame that land in our space, we can see that each one holds a store of energy. Embracing this energy — without indulging the impulse to return to sender — is the embodiment of true power. True power is not about having power over anyone. It’s the power of being present with life force energy as it moves through us, as we expand our capacity to hold a stronger and stronger charge without imploding or exploding.

We can always choose to be at cause (creator consciousness) or to be at effect (victim consciousness). As victims, we disown inner authority. As creators, we assume personal agency. Victim consciousness tells others what you think they should have done better or differently in the past. It looks to the external for a response or result. Creator consciousness asks oneself, how do I create more of what I want in the future? It seeks the answer within.

Receiving the blessing hidden in the curse is alchemy. To transmute pain into power, we have to repeatedly re-orient from blaming to claiming. The easy mode is blaming others for what hurts; the high road is claiming the hard lessons earned.

How I am creating safety

In my world, creating my own safety comes down to two things. It means intentionally choosing where I spend time (online and offline). And it means moving in those spaces with clarity and integrity around my boundaries. The people and situations that I allow into my life — these are the ground for my decision-making. When I reclaim this space as my domain, I can change my reality without anyone else’s permission or participation.

The absence of consent is not a boundary; and the absence of a boundary is not consent. As an adult, I have to do my part to communicate and care for my needs. I cannot expect anyone else to uphold my boundaries for me, especially if they haven’t explicitly agreed to that.

I have no regrets. And, these days I am choosing to do lots of things differently. I’ve made major changes in how I manage my time, space, and role — and because of this, I experience a lot more safety in my reality.

My chosen adjustments in time

The original firestarter post took me 30 minutes to write, without any input or editing. I posted it in a moment of emotional reactivity to the injustice that I perceived, as I witnessed what was happening in the women’s Facebook group. I’m human. What I did was a very human thing. 

I am also learning. Now, I take significantly more time to ponder before posting publicly — especially on controversial hot-button topics. What you are reading now has taken nine months to materialize, with many rounds of drafts and feedback from multiple reviewers, including a therapist, an authentic relating expert, and a non-violent communication coach.

My chosen adjustments in space

I am more mindful about what I share online, where I expose myself, and who I engage with. I have now grown wise to the difference between hosting dialogue and enduring abuse. I no longer hold space for triggered strangers online. I no longer accommodate verbal aggression in my space. And I exit early from energy-sucking circular arguments.

My depth sharing is now hosted on Substack where readers must choose to enter. No one will stumble across my words in an idle scroll through the Internet. A lot of my writing is still available to the public to read for free, yet only paid subscribers can comment and engage, which guards me against casual trolling.

My chosen adjustments in role

I have given up my membership in the savior’s club. This has probably been the most difficult and profound adjustment for me, and it’s part of my ongoing evolution. What I have learned is that it’s good to tread carefully when we are convinced that we’re right and others are wrong. At that moment, we’re blind to our shadow, which puts us at high risk of doing harm. For example, when helpers assign the dehumanizing label of “dangerous” to the bad guys — this often lays the groundwork for cruelty. 

Quitting saviorhood doesn’t mean being unwilling to help out. But there’s a big difference between helping when others ask me to, and helping when my ego decides that I’m needed. I will still share what I see, but ideally in places where I feel recognized and invited. I want to serve the medicine of my writing to those who desire and decide to read.

I am confident this episode will never repeat in my life. I can say that with certainty — without anyone being punished or blamed; and without anyone understanding or changing. I can say that because of my response-ability.

My life lessons earned

By grace, I am still here, and I am still sharing. It’s not entirely without fear, but it’s without apology.  For most people, the fact that I am sharing my truth is a non-event; not even worth noticing. For some, my words might be inspiring or thought-provoking. For others, my mere existence might be triggering.

This event has provided another potent reminder for me to put my own healing first and pay less attention to how others react and receive me. Others’ triggers are for them to process and harvest hidden treasures from. On my side of the street, my priority is taking care of myself and moving in my own integrity.

When I zoom out to review the bigger picture around this whole story, this is the sincere invitation that I want to end this chapter with: Let’s see if we can place our shared humanity higher than our preferred identity. 

We all like to think of ourselves as good and innocent and virtuous beings. But at the end of the day, we’re all here playing roles in each other’s trips through the world of duality. Those who have done harm, those who have been harmed, and those who have helped. None of these roles are permanent. In this story, I have been all three. 

The uncomfortable truth is: All of us have been all three. We have each been the perpetrator and victim and rescuer in someone’s reality. Who’s who in the story is just a matter of timeline and orientation. So, there’s no need to congratulate or condemn anyone too much.

It’s rare to encounter a human who is so deeply malevolent or mentally ill that they operate from a fundamental desire to destroy life. Most of the violence and aggression we see is distorted energy leaking from unhealed wounds. Wounded people meeting wounded people: this creates damaging misunderstandings.

The stories and beliefs we hold have weight. Let’s watch what we keep on repeat. Entirely different worlds are born between the thoughts, “sometimes good people do harmful things” and “the world is a dangerous place for existing.”

How childish to spew hate and blame in online comment wars. How cruel to rally virtual townsfolk around the public square of shame. How tragic to stay in the victim trap, and lash out at others because we neglected to tend our own wounds. How futile to try to overpower each other because we feel weak from fear.

We can do better. Let’s embody our true creator power. Let’s embrace response-ability for the choices we make. Let’s do our best to be kind.