Ode to error
learning comes with error: it is necessary, soft, buoyant and extremely human.
To heal, one must acknowledge the wound. To acknowledge the wound we must also recognise the fault that brought it.
I am here to make the case for error. Not the romanticised error that makes you melancholic about the past, or the mistakes made when other bodies and minds are invaded and deprived of some freedom, I am talking about the necessary error that comes with learning; it is soft, buoyant and extremely human.
In fact, the things we see are often characterised by the inexact. Simon and Chabrin’s invisible gorilla experiment is a good example of how what we see is already defined by error. Our selective vision makes us misperceive reality, therefore our perception of reality is often erroneous. It is tragic and comic at the same time because mistakes are so inherent in our existence.
But we have trouble accepting our imperfect nature. A study by Carol Travis and Elliot Aroson, Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me): Why We Justify Foolish Beliefs, Bad Decisions, and Hurtful Acts highlights how our imperfect nature makes us even less eager to accepting our own errors.
“As fallible human beings, all of us share the impulse to justify ourselves and avoid taking responsibility for any actions that turn out to be harmful, immoral or stupid,” they say.
I relate to this, I have often felt ashamed about my imperfections and failures, about my ignorances, and much of my healing work has involved accepting my mistakes in order to evolve.
Mistakes and social change
In my writing and activism, I also strongly value accepting soft changes — mistakes- in minds and hearts to debunk our fear of imperfection. Much of my work is about questioning- existing paradigms and knowledge- and this cannot happen without acknowledging that failure is the card on the table.
I am talking about the necessary error that comes with learning; it is soft, buoyant and extremely human.
If what I am doing is trying to decolonize my mind/society/body- and by that, I mean deconstructing the power imbalances that are, as Lit Hub so elegantly describes “practised as culturally encoded automated reflexes” of my own being- then I must acknowledge, even normalise, error.
Our fear of wrongdoing makes us fearful of transparency, of our humanity, of redemption and resilience. And most of all, it keeps us unaccountable. I dare to say there is a correlation with the complete lack of accountability of many sex offenders — better to disappear than to admit a mistake. This is also why the #MeToo movement was so important: not only it gave women a voice, it put so many people right in front of their own mistakes (to be clear I am not speaking of the sex offenders accused, but of everyone around that had to question the culture we are in, therefore admitting their own previous mistakes).
Oops I did it again!
Mistakes are a fundamental part of my writing process. Frustration, joy, and anger too. To give you an example, today I was struggling with the idea of surrender and finding resistance to new beginnings.
Just a few weeks ago, I shared my process of reckoning with surrender as a concept in both my interior self and my political understanding of it. Those who think that in my writing I am preaching what is right would say I am incoherent for sharing my understanding of surrender and then not embodying it fully.
Yet, it is a truth I have accepted that my knowledge and words are sometimes more evolved than my mind, which is still conditioned. I am ok with that, real change happens slowly.
Whilst I can witness increasing alignment moving forward- a sign of growth perhaps?- there are temporary incoherences and repeated mistakes. Fear of error can be paralysing, often we don’t even see that. I see humanity refusing to move forward for fear of not doing it right, or individuals not speaking up for fear of being judged as erroneous. This is why I believe that cancel culture is extremely damaging: it stigmatises error and humiliates people into silence.
If unlearning is key, especially when it comes to feminism and social justice, and I truly believe it is, then it must start with admitting that there is something that isn’t right.
I have had conversations where I was criticised for simply using the word unlearning. Whilst discussing how to pull men into the feminist movement, I was told by a friend not to use that word because most men don’t like the idea of it because it implies that they have been doing something wrong all this time. And so what? I thought.
To begin well is an art form
This process is personal and must come from a humble place, I am not advocating for fake information or shouting from rooftops with the risk of damaging others, but I am advocating for a more heartful and curious approach to sensitive topics such as racism and sexism.
I am inspired by conversations with men who acknowledge their discomfort in becoming an ally and are not afraid of voicing it. This is where the roots of change begin to dig the soil.
we want to be blind in front of our own imperfections
Allowing mistakes, rooted in respect for the other, honesty, curiosity and humility is a fundamental part of changing this society. Too much silencing comes from a place of rejection of error, of unawareness of our limitations, we want to be blind in front of our own imperfections.
The narrative on error needs changing. As I danced my fears away yesterday afternoon I was introduced to a phrase I want to share with you. “To begin is just to begin, but to begin well is an art form”, and to begin well one must have begun badly many times.
If unromanticised, real, honest, momentary truths are also mistakes, then, I will continue making them and hope you do too.
