“Maybe when you were born on the top of the mountain you could pretend the mountain didn’t matter, but those who climbed it and those born at its base who could never climb at all knew differently.” ― Brent Weeks, The Black Prism
While rereading Black Prism, I continually find myself grateful for an author, Brent Weeks, who tells human stories without shying away from hard truths. The quote above is from a character named Liv. She is talking with Gavin Guile, The Prism. She does not say this quote aloud but reflectively. Liv’s life was/is completely different from Gavin’s. She was not born into a noble family. Liv has been given some privilege over others, but she still is looked upon as less than by others higher in station, as well as those who see her heritage as unworthy of time or care. Throughout the Chromeria, racism, class systems, slavery, and injustice have ingrained themselves into not only the cultures found in this world, but it has also in the political and religious structures. What I find interesting about this quote, especially today, is that if Gavin had bothered (doesn’t have time to in the story due to the action playing out) to stop and think how elitist he sounded–to stop and question whether his presupposition was something Liv understood–maybe the chasm between him and Liv could have begun to shrink.
Why does this quote from Liv matter? I believe her words and truth are felt by a lot of people right now. Each of us was born with different circumstances, cultures, faiths, and presuppositions. How often do we take the time to think about this? How often do we stop to ask someone about her perspective? How often do we reach out to adjust our own lenses of the world while showering others with love unconditional?
I know that my skin color grants me privilege over others, even when I don’t want it to. I know that being a woman in America means I have choices that women in other countries do not. I know that having tattoos, I have 12, brings judgment from others. I know being curvy means I am not considered beautiful or thought of by designers whose ideal model and spokesperson is a size 0. I know being a woman means I will be paid less. I know that living with a mental health disability means isolation and ridicule. I know that there are families and veterans sleeping on the street because the community, at large, ignores them.
But I don’t know a lot about your life, your view. Your story matters to me. I never want to be the person who ignores you, who doesn’t enter into a conversation because I sense we may not agree on everything (we don’t have to), who doesn’t look at the world from a different view every chance I get, and who doesn’t show unconditional love to my neighbor, my friend, or my family.
Living life, loving others, means looking at things from someone else’s perspective. Life is not lived on social media, Las Vegas celebrity hosted club parties, or from a mansion. Life is lived by walking over and introducing yourself to someone you don’t know and showing interest in his life. Life is lived by stepping outside of our comfort zones to explore the neighborhoods, cities, and countries that aren’t like what we know. Life is serving other people.
My hope is that you want to share your stories and truths with me, and that going forward, I check myself if I ever start talking about how everything is the same across the board–it is not. I want to learn about Liv’s view. I want to learn about Gavin’s view. I want to learn about you, and together, we can keep the movement going–sharing our stories, having conversations to clarify or challenge presuppositions while growing our awareness of others. This is the only way we can begin reconciliation in the this broken world. If we seek out others with the love of Christ and a heart to listen, the world can be changed for the betterment of all.
Six Steps Since 