When a difference makes a difference

When a difference makes a difference

When we are born, we come with some fear that enables us to survive. The “fear of other” is what makes an infant cling to its primary carer, focus on and mimic the carer’s facial expressions, listen for and respond to the carer’s voice, and start out as a picky eater rather than experiment with foods that could prove sickening or deadly. This xenophobia drives our early childhood development regardless of the speed or direction it takes with each of us.

Basically we humans are stubborn creatures who resist change. And it’s not just us humans who act like mules; according to prehistoric records, fossils appear unchanging for long periods of time until—they woke up one morning and decided to turn over a new leaf and joined a support group and began taking positive steps toward becoming the fittest survivor? Hardly. As Stephen Jay Gould described in The Structure of Evolutionary Theory (2002), fossil records suddenly change at the point at which a species splits into two species. It’s not that change only happens when species split, but rather it’s only when species split that the change changes things.

As my 10th grade algebra teacher, Miss Bobbie Jean Hunt, used to say, “It’s only when a difference makes a difference that there’s really any difference.”

Sexual orientation is a difference that currently makes a difference.

We humans haven’t always differentiated ourselves by the gender of the company we keep. I suspect our ancient ancestors divided the world into “us” and “them” based on their needs for subsistence: “We” who live by the shore with access to fish are different from “They” who live on the plain with access to game or “Those up there” in the hills with access to nuts and berries. And “We” choose to flee from, or fight, or trade with “They” or “Those up there” depending on our group—waking up one morning and deciding to turn over a new leaf and joining a support group and taking positive steps toward becoming the dominant power?

Unfortunately we’re all as stubborn as fossils, according to human records including the Biblical record. Since the dawn of creation, we’ve individually and collectively had a difficult time growing up and out of our early childhood xenophobia. Evolving beyond our infancy survival needs.

Yet at some point—and that point is unique to every single one of us—we let go of our primary carer. Whether the carer likes it or not. We split and become our own person. And there’s no going back to the way things were. We find ourselves attracted to another’s face, we’re turned on by their voice, we dare to be curious and risk experimenting—risk experiencing joy—with this “significant other.”

It’s not the only time we change. At various points we do wake up and decide to turn over a new leaf and join a support group and take positive steps toward becoming—who we each were born to be, whatever our sexual orientation or the gender of the company we keep.

One by one we can choose to stop being afraid of “the other.” We can choose to stop worrying about individuals leaving or organizations splitting. And together we can choose to affirm one another’s differences—and change the differences that make a difference.