What authority do you give to whom, when? Join me as I ponder the connections between authority and vulnerability.
“Are you already interrogating my son back there without me?” It was April 20, 1989, in Netflix’s four-part limited series When They See Us, and Yusef Salaam’s mother was brazen. “He is too young for that. He is a minor.”
“You can’t stop us from interrogating a suspect.” Detective Fairstein towered above her, resolute. “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m his mother, and I’m stopping this. I’m stopping this right now. Right now, I want to see my son. I want to see my son, right now. RIGHT NOW!”
She had been waiting for almost 18 hours to hear from her 15-year-old son. Finally, after getting a tip that he’d been detained at the police station, she’d rushed in to find that the police had already interrogated him, convinced him to waive his right to a lawyer, and coerced him to confess to a crime he did not commit. African American Yusef Salaam was one of the Central Park Five (see the end of this post for a brief history recap).
His mother’s command of the situation is striking. She did not ignore Detective Fairstein. She did not assume anything about her son’s guilt, condition, or needs. She remained attentive to her circumstances moment-by-moment while maintaining crystal clarity about her non-negotiables: no one would invoke her to compromise her authenticity, her integrity, or her dignity. She knew her rights, her priorities, and her power, and she wielded them to cultivate connection--both with her son and Detective Fairstein.
Semipermeable vulnerability is Mrs. Salaam’s greatest asset.
Watch this powerful 2-minute clip of the scene. (Sorry the audio is slightly out of sync).
In 2010, Brene’s honesty caught us off guard:
“We are the most in-debt, obese, addicted, and medicated adult cohort in U.S. history.”
Her call for vulnerability soon went viral and is now the fourth most-viewed TED Talk of all time with over 47 million views recorded on the TED website alone. Brene Brown's research on shame and connection exposes our go-to flights from fear and pain. Instead of feeling, we “have a couple of beers and a banana-nut muffin...we make everything that’s uncertain certain...we blame...we perfect...we pretend.” We ignore. We coerce. We control. We stop listening and fail to respond. The problem is, Brene argues, “you cannot selectively numb emotion.” According to her research, when we numb pain, we numb joy and gratitude, too.
Immutable walls won’t satisfy our desire for purpose.
Immutable walls won’t satisfy our desire for purpose.
Her work uncovered a paradox that literally broke her down (her words, not mine). She reflects, “I could not believe I had pledged allegiance to research...to study phenomenon for the explicit reason to control and predict… Now, my mission had turned up the answer that the way to live is with vulnerability (i.e., to stop controlling and predicting).” Okay, Brene, so if vulnerability is the answer… how do we get there? What’s the alternative to numbed wall-building? “To let ourselves be seen...to practice gratitude and joy in those moments of terror.” Without intentionally choosing places to let our walls fall, we lose the very thing that gives us meaning: connection.
Recall for a moment your high school Biology classroom. Remember the occasional wafts of sea animal excrement, the cold metal chair leg around which you’d nestle your shoe, and the peculiar stamp of your teacher’s foot as she transitioned the class into a new textbook topic: cellular biology. It’s slowly coming back now. Yes, the semipermeable membrane is a selective barrier that allows certain molecules or ions to pass through it while blocking others. Cells, the smallest units of life, are all protected by these membranes 1/10,000 as thick as a piece of paper. Without these defensive barriers, the external environment can change and destroy the life inside each cell. This barrier—this flexible, sometimes permeable one—protects organized life. And often, it’s the only layer separating the nonliving world from the living world. But because life is sustained by raw materials like oxygen, carbon dioxide, nutrients, and water found outside the cell, the semipermeable membrane allows for the controlled exchange of these molecules between the internal and external environments.
Cellular biology demonstrates that the physical barriers that guard the living world are flexible.
Cellular biology demonstrates that the physical barriers that guard the living world are flexible. These membranes “choose” to take in that which makes them stronger. They reject things that don’t. They “listen,” adjust, and respond. This sometimes involves sending signals to other cells or changing shape in order to carry out certain activities.
A semipermeable membrane’s strength is paradoxically its vulnerable versatility. Especially because these membranes are so thin, they can be disrupted by exposure to heat, oversaturation, or disease. Yet, without the restriction of a cell wall, human and animal cell membranes remain highly adaptable and responsive in ways plant cells are not.
You, like a cell, are a unit of life. You, too, protect an inside living world from a nonliving external one. And you, too, decide what will come in and stay out.
This is your right. This is your power.
A semipermeable membrane’s strength is paradoxically its vulnerable versatility.
Sometimes we let in more.
Sometimes we let in less.
Sometimes walls might be necessary.
Life is built of seasons.
Yet, our power in building walls and cultivating permeability is ours. Until, of course, someone forces that power away from us.
Until we spend time wrestling with this mystery,
We cannot exercise respect.
We will not see oppression.
We won’t practice love.
What if we start practicing semipermeability with the things we say?
In some ways, Brene's analogy of walls versus permeability falls flat. Something always gives. We’re all permeable somewhere, even if it’s just with banana nut muffins and beer. Perhaps a better question is not whether or not to numb, but rather what to heed. What should we pay attention to? What do we let in? We human beings are limited. We have limited energy, take up limited space, and are limited by time. We only have what we receive, and we are not able to receive everything at once.
As you navigate your permeability today, consider these three questions, plus a prompt:
1. What authority do I choose to give this person in my life?
If everyone has authority over you, you forfeit your right to a membrane all together. In cellular biology, lacking a barrier destroys life, and the same is true for you. Only some folks have earned the right to have authority over how you view yourself and your abilities. What criteria qualify someone to make the cut?
2. What voices am I listening to?
How do you talk to yourself during the day? Could you develop gates and dams for some of those thought streams, too?
3. Is risking trust in this relationship worth the connection that could result?
When you build walls, you lose connection. Who in your life is worth the risk of permeability? What does increasing and decreasing permeability in certain relationships look like for you? In which relationships do you want to prioritize your permeability?
4. Start with words.
Sometimes, as I’m writing these posts, my directness turns my stomach sour. Perhaps there are better ways to communicate these ideas; living them, I think, conveys them best. Nonetheless, we live in a world of weary words amidst systemic disparity and oppression. What if we start practicing semipermeability with the things we say? How might we use our language for more than just controlling and predicting? Remember, flexibility speaks louder than words.
Imagine a world of connected and responsive human beings! Seriously, just imagine that. Now, look around you - friends, that world is already here. Go find it and start contributing. Master your selective permeability, and as your own biology demonstrates, you’ll start stewarding, cultivating, and multiplying life.
Cheers, friends.
Carpe diem.
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A Brief Explanation of the Central Park Five
On the night of April 19, 1989, Trisha Meili, a 28-year-old white woman, went jogging in Manhattan’s Central Park. Sometime between 9 p.m. and 1:30 a.m., she was assaulted, raped, and left in a coma for 12 days. Although eight others were also attacked that night, three of whom were African American or LatinX (“The Jogger and the Wolf Pack,” 1989), The New York Times in 1990 described Trisha Meili’s attack as "one of the most widely publicized crimes of the 1980s.” … What happened?
Turns out, a group of over 30 teenagers was also in the park that night. Some of them were allegedly acting out, hurting folks, and harassing homeless people. Over the days following Meili’s rape, police gathered suspects and arrested ten minors including four African American and two LatinX boys. Their DNA did not match semen samples of Meili’s attacker. Five of these boys were interrogated and, without counsel, coerced into confessing their guilt. They later withdrew these statements, pleading “not guilty.” Thirteen years later, as the incarcerated men approached 30 years of age, the true assailant confessed and provided confirmed DNA evidence linking him to Trisha Meili’s rape. Kevin Richardson, Antron McCray, Raymond Santana Jr., Korey Wise, and Yusef Salaam were soon released are now known as the Central Park Five.
To expose corruption within America’s criminal justice system including social profiling, police coercion, and false confessions, Ava DuVernay created, produced, wrote, and directed Netflix’s When They See Us with the support of Julian Breece and Robin Swicord. According to Forbes, it has been the most-watched Netflix series every day in the U.S. since it’s premiere on May 31, 2019.