Month: November 2018

Acculturation Wars

Our nation is in the midst of a great battle.

Not one fought in a military zone, or in deliberated in a courtroom. But one borne out through bitter public discord.

That battle is over the future of our culture.

There are some who aim to protect the status quo at all costs. They see an influx of outsiders and an onset of changing demographics as a threat to culture as they know it.

There are some who aim to promote change. They see that same influx of outsiders and onset of changing demographics as an opportunity to further evolve our culture.

And then there are some who are in the middle. They welcome the influx of outsiders and onset of changing demographics, so long as some existing norms are respected.

I belong to that last group.

I live just outside of Dallas. Like many regions across the Sunbelt, the greater Dallas area —often called the Metroplex — is blessed with mild weather, ample land and an affordable cost of living.

These factors — along with Dallas’ central location — have attracted many companies, who have relocated to the region. With those companies have come many new jobs. And with those new jobs come an influx of new residents.

This has been a boon for the area. The influx of people and jobs have led to new housing, schools, restaurants, entertainment venues and infrastructure. The economy has grown accordingly, and opportunity abounds.

Yet, all of that change has come with a cost.

Many of the new residents feeding Dallas’ burgeoning economy have relocated from California. But while their address has changed, their cultural affiliation has not. This has led to a growing bubble of Californianism, deep in the heart of Texas.

The problem with this development is that Texans, as you might have heard, are a proud bunch. We have a rich culture steeped in heritage and tradition. And we don’t take it well when that culture is treated like a doormat.

So as more people flood in from the shores of the Pacific and redefine North Texas as California East, the tension builds. Don’t California My Texas stickers start appearing on rear windows of pickup trucks. Don’t Cali My Dallas becomes a rallying cry.

This is not to say that Dallas is entirely insular. I myself moved to the area from West Texas several years ago, and I’m not a Native Texan. Even so, I have been treated with nothing but kindness during my time in North Texas. And there are many others like me across the area who are not met with derisive car stickers.

So, what’s the difference? Unlike the recent swath of California transplants, I took heed of the existing culture in Dallas, and incorporated it into my lifestyle. I didn’t willingly stand apart.

This wouldn’t seem to be difficult. After all, I did come to Dallas directly from elsewhere in the Lone Star State. But, West Texas has a different culture than North Texas — out west it’s more western and rural. It took me a bit to learn the ropes in the Metroplex, but I kept a spirit of adaptability. Today, Dallas is as much as part of me as I am part of it.

It’s my hope that the wave of Californians in the area follow a similar path. That they respect the cultural norms and traditions found here in Texas. And that they work to incorporate that culture into their own, instead of remaining at odds with it.

On a broader scale, I hope that people who relocate to new areas across the country — regardless of their origin — follow this strategy. That they take heed of the culture that’s already in place, and work to incorporate with their own.

I also hope that those who already are in these communities are as welcoming to new residents who make this effort as my neighbors here have been to me.

When both new and existing residents work to bridge the gap, it can help alleviate cultural tension. It can also forge stronger community ties. Everybody wins.

Let’s take the middle ground. And end the squabbling once and for all.

We Rise

If I had to distill my overall life philosophy into three words, it would be the following.

Together we rise.

It means that success is not a zero-sum game. That we can work together to see the change we aspire to achieve.

In essence, this philosophy is an extension of the old adage A rising tide lifts all boats. Yet, in this case, the observed change does not come from the whims of Mother Nature. Instead it’s driven by the will of our nature.

The rise comes from a place of selflessness, sharing and compassion. From a place of sacrifice and humility. From a place of recognition for the unmatched potential of societal change.

And it comes from a basic realization. We did not get here alone.

It’s a simple fact. But it’s one that can gradually take the air out of us, like a slow leak in a tire.

Why? Because we feed off a narrative of self-made grandeur. Of pulling ourselves up by our bootstraps and driving our own success. Of independent prosperity.

This narrative, of course, is ridiculous. We’re not born knowing how to walk, talk, eat solid food or clean up after ourselves. We’ve had help from Day One. And that assistance has often stretched into adulthood.

Yet, the self-made man narrative is pervasive because it has roots in our heritage. Frontier settlers in early America did indeed get by on grit, guile and perseverance.

Still, for all of the stories of Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett, there are countless others that are left untold. Stories that ended with frontier settlers scalped, starved or frozen to death.

That would have been the story of the Pilgrims too, had the local natives not helped provide them the tools to survive the brutal winters of present-day Massachusetts.

No, despite tales to the contrary, our society itself did not get here alone. Despite the tall tales of glory, a healthy dose of humility is in the offing when we reflect on what’s allowed us to innovate, iterate and prosper over the past four centuries.

This is why we celebrate Thanksgiving around this time each year. It’s why we maintain an air of kindness and generosity as the calendar winds down.

It’s a noble cause. One that summons the best in all of us.

But why can’t it be omnipresent the entire year around?

We’d be better served putting our oversized egos away, no matter the season. We’d be better off if we considered achievement in the context of We Not Me.

This would require a shift in attitude, from feeling the euphoria of receiving to attaining the satisfaction of giving. It would require more bandwidth, from looking out for ourselves to looking out for others. And it would require a mix of patience and persistence, as improvement does not always come at a constant rate.

But these changes would be well worth it.

No longer would our success come at the cost of others. No longer would our achievements widen the dividing line between the haves and the have nots.

Instead, we would be building shared equity in improvement. We would be forging stronger ties with our community. And, in doing so, we would help solidify our legacy in a way that resonates long after we’re gone.

I’ve long said that when my time is done, I would want my headstone to read: He had a good heart and he cared.

That message is simple. But it need not be revolutionary.

So, as we prepare to give thanks and spread cheer, let’s consider how we can devote ourselves to something greater. Let’s commit to three powerful words.

Together we rise.

Rewind and Fast Forward

How did we get here?

It’s a common question these days.

Whether the question comes from a place of anguish, exasperation or curiosity, it’s omnipresent.

There’s good reason for us to delve into this root cause analysis. The past is already written. It’s printed in the pages of books or encoded in our memory banks.

Our recollections of what came before are often vivid. And our interpretation of those events can draw a line to the present.

Never mind that our accounts of the past can be skewed by bias. That history is all too often written by the victors. That memories can fade over time, or enter our cognition already tarnished by an abundance of stress or a lack of perspective.

The fundamental point remains the same.

We draw upon what’s known to help figure out what’s uncertain. We take the solid inscriptions of our past to reconcile the shaky ground of our present.

This method has served us well for generations. After all, the old adage goes, Those who do not learn from history are bound to repeat it.

Yet, the habit of rewinding to move ahead is less relevant than ever today.

Why? We have more power over our story trajectory these days. No longer are we akin to cattle, being paraded down the well-worn trails our ancestors have left.

Today, we are not bounded by limits in technology, communication and innovation. We are largely free to forge a new path that can upend the way society works.

This provides great opportunity. But also, a great challenge.

For while these changes are of our volition, the side effects can make us queasy.

There is no recipe book we can turn to when the ground gets shaky. No prescription to ease the volatility.

The straight-line relationship we’ve inferred between past and present has shifted into an accelerating curve. We’re writing the book in real-time now.

So what recourse do we have? How can we keep our narrative from taking an unintended turn?

It starts by asking a new question.

Where do we go from here?

Starting with this question moves us from reaction to action. It can allow us to move forward with intention, unencumbered by the weight of the past.

It can help us find meaning, even in the face of present-day unease. It can help us write our story on our own terms.

And the best part? This method can work for just about everyone.

No matter which factors have led us to this point, there is a beneficial way forward.

Yes, for some of us, those past actions themselves lead to forward-facing consequences. If we’ve committed a crime, we must do the time. We cede control of our narrative to pay our debt to society.

But this is an edge case. A grave one, but an edge case nonetheless.

For the most part, we have the power to fast forward. To consider what comes next in order to right our wrongs, build off our achievements and iterate toward a brighter future.

We seldom use this power. And when we do, it’s all too often secondary to our root cause analysis.

It’s time to change that.

Even in an ambiguous world, the direction we head is still largely in our control.

But it starts by asking the right questions.

Let’s do so.

The Elite Conundrum

If you read Words of the West frequently, you’ve probably noticed that many of the topics covered converge on one central theme.

Inclusivity.

I’ve long talked about the importance of doing things together. Of the strength of working as one for mutually beneficial causes.

I’ve spoken of breaking down barriers that stand in the way of our success. Of pushing past selfish thinking that, at scale, can hold us back.

No matter what angle is covered, the underlying message is the same.

Together we rise.

Yet, for all I’ve written of the virtues of inclusivity, I’ve done a poor job of practicing what I preach.

I live with my own blind spots. Only they’re not all that blind.

In fact, they’re out in the open.

I’ve long spoken of a simplistic concept. One where there are two types of people in the world — those who go after the results they seek, those who wait for these results to be given to them.

In essence, this theory splits our society into two groups — one that views the world as an ongoing grind and one that views it as a meritocracy.

Which one do I prefer? Ideally, the answer should be neither. But read a few articles of Words of the West, and it’s clear I lean toward the mindset of affecting change. Of actively going after what we seek.

Implied in this preference is an air of elitism.

By actively promoting those with a certain drive, I create a boundary of my own. I state, This is the mindset I associate with. These are the types of people who can help us forward to the brightest future.

This, of course, says just as much about those I don’t associate with. Those I identify as the problem, not the solution.

It assumes working with these people will send us on a path to nowhere.

And right within that statement lies a major issue.

If I consider myself above those with a different mindset, I can never fully live into the objective I speak of.

And if that I becomes a we, our hopes of achieving an inclusive society dwindle. The wedge between the haves and have-nots grows wider.

Worse still, an air of snobbiness can be associated with this elitist thinking. One that will make unifying the sides of the divide we’ve created even more challenging.

So, what’s the solution?

Should we suppress any inherent biases we have toward a particular mindset or attitude, and simply make the best of the situation? This model could drive us toward greater inclusivity, but everyone would not necessarily be pulling in the same direction.

Should we consider keeping things as is? This could help us promote the change we seek, but at the risk of alienating those who don’t buy in to our vision.

I believe the answer lies somewhere in the middle.

We must be more inclusive. We need to commit to breaking down the barriers we all know exist, and breaking through the inherent ones we might create in the process.

But we also must be wary of carrying too much of the load. Of taking initiative on behalf of those whose attitude, mindset or temperament don’t jibe with the vision we promote.

In other words, we should give everyone an opportunity to participate in the culture we build. But we shouldn’t look with scorn on those who go a different way.

This strategy, by nature, won’t bridge the divide completely. But it’s a step in the right direction.

I need to buy into this as much as anyone. And I’m game to do so.

Are you?