“You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies…
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”
Dr. Maya Angelou, Still I Rise
Othering and Why it Matters
Othering happens when we forget that another person is as human as we are.
It begins when we reduce people to labels, assumptions, categories, or fear. We stop seeing a full human being and start relating to an idea, a judgment, or a threat. In that distance, dignity begins to erode. Respect becomes easier to withhold. Harm becomes easier to justify.
The Human Need for Belonging
Human beings long for connection. We long to belong, to matter, to be seen, and to live with dignity. From the beginning of life, we are shaped by relationships. We learn trust or mistrust. With enough care and support, we grow into ourselves, strengthen our gifts, and find ways to contribute to the world around us. But when fear, humiliation, exclusion, or repeated devaluation take hold, people and communities can become organized more around protection than connection.
The Cost of Dehumanization
Lately, I have been thinking about this deeply. Through recent talks, museum visits, books, and what I am seeing around me, I keep returning to the same truth: Othering is costing us something profoundly human. I feel it in everyday life. I feel it in my office, consulting rooms, and trainings. People are arriving with more fear, more vigilance, and more uncertainty. Beneath so much of it is a longing to know: Do I belong? Will I be accepted or abused? Can I trust? Can we still find our way back to one another?
Othering and generalizing dehumanize. They create enough distance that people can begin to feel justified in mistreating, humiliating, and even harming others to unbearable degrees. It’s much harder to harm another when we truly hold in mind that they, too, are human beings, with dignity, vulnerability, purpose, and the right to live.
Widening the Circle of Human Concern
One phrase I keep returning to is the circle of human concern. To me, that means the space in our hearts, minds, and communities where people are held as fully human, worthy of dignity, care, protection, and belonging. When people are pushed outside that circle, it becomes easier to dismiss them, flatten them, or turn away from their pain. When they are held inside it, their humanity is harder to ignore.
As therapists, and really, as human beings, we may not all enter public conversations in the same way, but we do know something about what fear does. We see how it lives in the body, erodes trust, and strains relationships. We see what repeated humiliation does to a person’s sense of self. We see what happens when people arrive braced for attack, misunderstanding, dismissal, or shame. We also know that healing does not happen through dehumanization. It happens through steadiness, honest presence, honoring difference, and being willing to repair when we have caused harm.
Becoming More Aware
At a recent workshop with Kenneth V. Hardy, PhD, I found myself reflecting on becoming before doing, and on the ways identity can be overlooked or thinned out in the name of being inclusive. I found myself wondering how often we, including myself, become distanced from parts of who we are, racially, religiously, culturally, or historically, because staying connected can sometimes feel painful. And yet, when we turn away from parts of ourselves or from one another, something essential can be lost. Over time, that kind of disregard can become dehumanizing. What happens if we go deeper than simply thinking of ourselves as inclusive people? What happens if we are willing to face the pain of dehumanization rather than turning away because it’s uncomfortable?
Perhaps before we can do something, we need to know who we are. We need to know what we value. We need to become more aware of the fears, assumptions, and inherited narratives we carry. We need to become more deeply rooted in our own humanity so that we do not lose sight of others’ humanity.
And still, I want to believe that hope is built in ordinary moments. In how we speak. In how we listen. Whether we let dehumanizing language pass without question. Whether we are willing to bring steadiness, dignity, and humanity back into the conversation. We may not change the whole world at once, but we do help shape it one conversation at a time.
Sometimes that means asking a clarifying question. Sometimes it means setting a respectful boundary. Sometimes it means refusing to let someone carry the burden of being targeted all alone. Small moments matter. They are often where a culture either hardens or begins to heal.
Perhaps part of our work now is to widen the circle again, to remember that dignity is not something only some people deserve. Belonging asks more of us than sameness. It asks us to protect humanity even in the face of differences. It asks us to become people who do not deepen the divide.
Where This Leaves Us
Maybe the place to end is with a few deep inquiry questions:
- Where have I reduced someone to a category instead of meeting their full humanity?
- Where has fear narrowed my capacity to stay open, curious, or compassionate?
- What assumptions do I carry that may keep me from truly seeing another person?
- How do I want to respond when I witness dehumanizing language or behavior?
- What values do I want to live by, even when the world around me feels divided?
- How can I help widen the circle of human concern in my daily life, one conversation at a time?
These are not easy questions. But they are human ones. And perhaps hope begins here in our willingness to keep becoming more honest, more grounded, and more able to live in alignment with what matters most: Our shared humanity and our connection to one another.
