Strings of Judgment
Standing at a locker recently, I grew increasingly agitated by a sound coming from the other side of the room I was in. The wails of a baby incessantly punctured the air around me, and my mind railed against it. Surprised with myself, I questioned my annoyance, as I reasoned, this baby couldn’t help the feelings that needed to be vented. Then I realized. I wasn’t upset with the baby. I was judging the mother who couldn’t silence her child. Cringing at the criticism I’d made, I stepped out of there and away from the feeling I didn’t want to associate myself with.
Standing behind my sister while in her kitchen, a day later, I looked passed her and into the mirror across the adjoining room, and I saw myself looking over her shoulder. It showed the whole scene that was playing out, and in a shot, led me to reflect on what lay below the surface.
As his parents scolded my nephew for a misstep, I saw that I looked like someone who was judging them. I wasn’t, but I knew who was. Gaining confirmation, I listened to my sister drill him – “Do you want to be labeled as that kid?” Unanswered, she followed it up with a declaration – “This is not the boy I’m raising.”
After he retreated to his room, we discussed the situation. Moving beyond the action that was nowhere near fatal, she referenced his recent history. Shaking, she spoke of the group of moms who’d driven their sons to ostracize hers because of an incident that had fueled their fears. Taken out of proportion, they hadn’t taken the time to talk it over, instead they’d gone straight to declaring him unfit to be around. She worried they would act, once again, as his judge and jury.
After that fear ran its course, I drove the conversation home with a question – “Is your fear of their judgment a reflection of your judgment of yourself as a mother?” Nodding, it was.
Taking a step back to gain a wider perspective, I’ve watched the movement to equalize women and reflected on how many are being judged harshly. Mostly men, but women too. A hurricane of headlines and a storm of tweets have flung out judgment, daily, at those who failed to speak up against the sexual offenders sooner. It seems like everyone is judging someone for what they say, what they don’t say, how they say it once it’s said, how long it took them to say it, and the latest, saying something when they should shut up and listen to what’s being said.
Then there was the circus that grew around what a woman had been paid, verses her male counterpart, for retakes that had been shot of a film. Left out of every article was the reason. It was done to expunge a male actor, who’d been accused of sexual offenses, from their feature. The male director, along with other actors, didn’t ask to be paid either. Regardless, this woman, who through this act had stood up for everyone saying “me too”, was judged as not having fought for what she was worth. Much was written on it, but the woman didn’t speak one word. I have to wonder if she knew. No matter what was said, someone would disregard the meaning behind it and judge her.
This all leads me to wonder, since this was happening everywhere, forever, where were these judgmental voices before that first story broke? I’m not speaking out against justice. That’s been sorely needed. But, let’s not be mistaken, justice and judgment are not the same. I’m speaking out against the rocks, full of righteousness, that have been flung full force. Screaming out their judgment of everyone, they’re succeeding in one thing. Shutting down people speaking, which is what leads to solutions.
And I also wonder…
Where does the judgment end? We judge the parents. We judge the children. We judge the men. We judge the women. We judge ourselves. Nearly none are deemed worthy.
You might wonder. Aren’t I dishing out judgment here? Perhaps I am, to a point, but we should all be wondering…
If the judgment doesn’t end, so people can feel safe to speak, where will we end up?
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