Grace A. Bickers

All my good thinking comes after breakups; I think God must be teasing me.

I wrote last summer about agency, shame, and interdependence. It is tragic how the standards to which we hold ourselves can generate such angst and guilt, how even the assumption, the fear of the possibility that we might have done something wrong in the eyes of someone, somewhere, can be so staggeringly, so paralyzingly heavy. My friends and I talk about attachment theory often, why avoidants disengage and stonewall, but it’s always seemed more like a description than an explanation to me. That anger or withdrawal are caused by fear doesn’t really say much — fear of what? And why are guilt and passivity so often characteristic of the final stages of these interactions? There is a special form of rage associated with receiving yet another version of the same text after expressing feelings of neglect: “I’m sorry, you’re right, you deserve someone who…”

Studying litigation, I think about the activity of a courtroom a lot. Judgment is a particular type of act; it pronounces a truth about us, what kind of person we must be to have behaved (or failed to) in such a way. The simplicity of judgment — right and wrong, black and white — can feel dangerously compelling if we are afraid of who we might be, or don’t recognize our Selves in our actions. The philosopher Stanley Cavell defines horror as “the perception of the precariousness of human identity…that it may be lost or invaded, that we may be, or may become, something other than we are.” ^* If we expect that we should already have all the answers and see mistakes as the failure to properly perform our humanity, admitting uncertainty becomes an existential threat. Rather than face such terror, judgment provides clear categories of identity, either victim or villain. This is true even when we are the ones judging ourselves; guilt is a form of agency that can make sense of fear and inhibition. We may not know what to do, but at least we can feel bad about it. More often than not, I think guilt might provide an escape from perceived inadequacy. If self-sufficiency is the mark of adulthood — job stability, savings, home ownership, direction — the vulnerability of ambiguity becomes unbearable.

Of course, the alternative to punishment is forgiveness. And yet, forgiveness is somehow conceived as a lack of justice, something the “better person” does in lieu of what they are rightfully owed. To forgive is seen as an act of self-denial, even if it protects a forward-looking state of peace. In order to protect our interests in the longterm, we must turn a blind eye to present injustice. The victim becomes the martyr.

But forgiveness is also a choice; it is an expression of agency. It recognizes that truth can be relational. Yes, I am deserving of reciprocity, of presence. Yes, it hurt my feelings when you slowly shrank into the shadows instead of communicating. Yes, I still love you and recognize your care for me. Yes, I have also failed others in the same ways. Yes, your fear is real, too. Forgiveness as choice is self-affirming. It asserts a version of the Self that finds meaning in interconnectedness instead of being defined through opposition. Yes, you are a part of me; yes, I am still whole. Punishment passes judgment on the past. Forgiveness declares the possibility of a future.

I asked my students in class the other day how they made decisions, and why (if) it was ok to make decisions for children but not for other adults. Some said they made pro/con lists, one talked of intuition, another mentioned that adults have experienced enough of life that they should be able calculate the success or failure rate of past behavior. Only one suggested that asking another for their opinion was a possible course of action. I ask my students lots of big questions all the time — What are the limits of free speech? Is gendered language or identity expression antithetical to equality? — and at first I still receive lots of silent stares. We have developed enough rapport now that someone is usually brave enough to clarify whether or not the question was confusing, or they just need time to think. Sometimes before a paper is due a student will come to me and confess that they don’t even know where to start. As soon as I ask them what readings they are most interested in and what caught their attention, like a waterfall all their brilliant ideas come tumbling out. Together we organize, find common themes, refine. Anyone on a group chat with me has similarly been sounding board and source of inspiration for dissertation arguments in formation. How many opportunities to learn about ourselves and connect with others do we lose when we are too afraid to ask for help? “I don’t know” is so very, so often, honest.

Guilt passes judgment on a past version of ourselves. Forgiveness declares the possibility of rebirth. Instead of fear what we are not and may have failed to be, we could let go of that pain and embrace with curiosity who we are yet to become. Rilke tells us, “be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves…perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” Spring is almost here and the whole world is making itself anew. We might as well join in.