Save Your Pity
Save Your Pity
Sympathy
and empathy are not interchangeable ingredients in the recipe of sustainable
human relationships. Sympathy is feeling pity or sorrow for another’s hardship.
It’s the rich pitying the undernourished, a wrist-slapped white collar thug pitying
over-incarcerated petty drug transgressors, a haughty cake baker pitying hell-bound
sinners. Sympathy is arm’s-length, a
reinforcing mechanism for high-walled echo chambers that reverberate with selfishness. Sympathy provides a lazy topping when we see
injustices like loving LGBTQ couples denied employment or housing or the
freedom to move from city to city with consistent, portable rights.
Sympathy is thoroughly passé: a dry devil’s food on a counter
of otherwise highly evolved molten triple fudge.
In 2018, just as we evolve in law and culture, we are
called, instead, to empathize: to experience human emotions that rise from
hunger, injustice, dehumanization, and capricious greed: to share fear and
embarrassment and sorrow and persistent anxiety.
Acting out of mere sympathy reinforces otherness along
traditional power gradients. It reinforces misunderstanding and callous
aloofness.
Acting out of empathy reinforces camaraderie, it builds a multi-layer
village upon an infrastructure of a sweet, shared soul. Empathy removes
barriers between neighbors. Empathy remains uncodified except in the human
heart: loving like Jesus instead of reifying arcane medieval doctrine.
Shifting from sympathy to empathy is the hard work of
judging our own imperfections. It rises beyond the tight chambers of our
individual hearts.
Building
a social structure upon emotion, though, whether manifest as sympathy or
empathy, is a dangerous proposition—kneading the line between saccharin and
confection. While individual relationships are best realized through empathy,
the subjectivity and difference in maturity levels between neighbors as they
evolve from selfishness to sympathy to empathy may not always lead to sustainable
policy.
We
are bound by a political contract, leavened in the collective soul of the
American people.
We,
as individuals, rise at different rates, with different experiences, toward the
rich realization of empathy’s promises. The Constitution and Rule of Law
provide gap-filling, topical solutions where we fail to live up to the
challenges—the hard, individual work—of empathizing.
We
have laws to drive compromise, in the absence of empathy, between systemic
injustice and objective hypocrisy. Where we cannot legislate empathy, we can at
least protect commerce and opportunities to arrive at a set of protected rights
for all citizens upon an infrastructure of legal contracts.
Local domestic partner
registries like that in Hillsborough and Supreme Court decisions like
Obergefell are still diluted by poorly baked intentions that would strip LGBTQ
rights vis-Ã -vis competing interpretations of religious expression, however
demagogued. Whereas we shouldn’t expect government to enforce empathy—this must
spring organically from each person, in their own time—it can enforce equity
and competitiveness in commerce. Government, with a mandate from democratically
empowered electorates—some driven by pity, others by empathy, and still others
out of selfishness—can champion laws that increase the broad commercial rights of
all citizens. When large companies like Amazon face pressure against bringing
tens of thousands of tax-paying jobs to Florida because its LGBTQ employees and
recruits are fearful of living in a state where they, their legal spouses, or
their families can be legally discriminated against, commerce suffers for all
Floridians.
Because we can’t legislate
empathy, we must legislate the primacy of contracts: the timeless recipe of
offers, acceptance, consideration, and promises between equal parties. Protecting
commercial relationships, balancing established rights of religion and
self-expression, remains the proper role of government.
Each year over the last
decade, a version of the Florida Competitive Workforce Act has been introduced
in the Florida legislature. Each year it’s failed. The FCWA is designed to
provide, statewide, the same protections against LGBTQ discrimination in
employment, housing, and public accommodations that many municipalities already
provide. Such statewide protections would promote commerce for those who want
to cross borders without fearing fluctuating liberties and rights.
Building on the momentum of
more bipartisan support than ever, FCWA must become law in 2019 for Florida to
remain commercially and culturally relevant in the international marketplace. Explicitly
dignifying LGBTQ citizenship throughout the state is smart business.
Read more of my poetry, essays, and stories at Momentitiousness.com
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