How a UC Berkeley Professor Confronts Division With a Vision for Belonging

Professor john a. powell spent much of his early life feeling like he didn’t belong.

At just 11 years old, he became estranged from his deeply religious family. After questioning church doctrine and not getting the answers he was looking for, powell — who spells his name in lowercase — left the church, and his father did not speak to him for five years.

But that pivotal moment was the beginning of the path that led him to his life’s work. powell is the director of the Othering and Belonging Institute at UC Berkeley, where he’s also a professor of law, African American studies and ethnic studies. He’s the author of two recent books, Belonging Without Othering and The Power of Bridging.

powell spoke with The California Report Magazine host Sasha Khokha as part of a series on Californians and resilience.

Below are excerpts from their conversation, edited for brevity and clarity. For the full interview, listen to the audio linked at the top of this story.

On what ‘bridging’ means:

A simple way of thinking about it is just that it brings people together. We’re willing to be present with someone, we’re willing to listen to someone, not because we think they’re right, not because we’re gonna change our mind or change their mind, but because they’re human.

We recognize, even in those apparent differences, we share something. So bridging is willingness to see each other, not to become each other, to see each other. It requires being present and being curious. And it requires listening with the heart, not with the mind.

The mind is always listening to be right and prove the other person wrong. Whereas the heart is listening to build relationships. It’s like, “Tell me about your fears. Tell me about your kids. Tell me about what’s important to you.”

On belonging and othering:

We oftentimes create our sense of coolness or belonging by dissing other people. If you want to be in this group, you’ve got to hate that group. And that’s one reason that the title of the first book was called Belonging Without Othering.

Because belonging with othering is a normal staple practice in many religions, and much of nation-building and race-building. “You are OK if you’re part of us, and those beings over there are not even people, they’re not even human.”

If you think about the United States, the Constitution starts off, “We the people.” But then for the next 250 years — and I would say even today — we’ve been fighting about who is that “we”?

On the relationship between bridging and resilience:

Resilience is largely a team sport. So if you’re by yourself, isolated, it’s hard to be resilient. And part of being resilient… is being recognized. Bridging is where we recognize the humanity in each other.

I walked into a coffee shop yesterday in Berkeley. And there was a guy sitting in the coffee shop. He probably was, I’d say, 60 or 70.

And I just said, “Excuse me, sir, what is that you’re reading?” And he tells me it’s about the history of ideas and history of religion. But then, he doesn’t want me to go. And basically what he said is that he’s lonely.

[Loneliness]creates fragileness. It creates the opposite of resilience. Bridging is the willingness to actually see ourselves and see the other person. And the deeper we bridge, the more resilient we are.

It doesn’t mean we won’t have challenges, but we know we’re not in it alone. So bridging invites that human care, human interest and human curiosity.

On whether bridging is always possible:

Each person has to derive the answer to that question themselves. They have to sit with that question.

I think initially, because we’re feeling a lot of fear, and that fear is sometimes well-founded, so there are certain conditions.

We actually help bring people together sometimes, and when we do, we frequently don’t start with the most difficult issue. We start with human issues. And sometimes what comes out is loneliness.

Is that a liberal issue, a conservative issue? It’s a human issue. So, what we say is that if you can’t bridge, and there may be certain conditions you can’t, try not to break. And breaking is where it’s not simply where you don’t interact with someone; it’s where you denigrate them, where you assume that they are a threat, where you call them evil.

So, if you’re not gonna bridge, if you’re not gonna reach across and be present with the person, could you at least not denigrate them? Could you at least not dehumanize them? Could you at least still just say, “I’m not comfortable, I’m too raw, I’m traumatized, I don’t feel safe, but I’m not assuming that you’re all things evil.”

On how to begin to bridge with someone you don’t agree with:

Start with something that’s immediate. Start with something this doable.

If you can’t bridge with someone who’s on the opposite side of the political spectrum you are, bridge with your cousin. Bridge with someone who you share the same language, the same food, the same religion — maybe the same parents.

But it doesn’t mean it will be easy. Sometimes the people who are close to us know how to really hurt us. But as we get better at bridging, we’re not only gaining resilience, but the muscle gets better.

And if it gets to be too much, stop. It doesn’t mean you have to win it or you have to get it all done in the first sitting.