Who Am I to Judge?
Curiosity over judgement...
Through different seasons of my life, I have had the chance to meet many kinds of people.
As a national athlete, I traveled a lot. I met people from different cities, countries, cultures, and backgrounds. Later, immigration opened that world even more. Coaching did too. Sitting with people and hearing them talk about the real things in their lives has taught me how complex we all are.
One of the most important things I have learned is this: when you are with people, try to put the judgmental mindset aside.
I say “try” because I know judgment is part of being human. Our minds are always analyzing, comparing, making meaning, and trying to understand what is happening. Someone speaks, and before we even notice it, we may start forming opinions. We think about what they said, how they said it, what we would have done differently, what we agree with, what we don’t understand.
Sometimes we are not really listening anymore. We are listening to our own thoughts about them.
We label people. We place them into categories. I have done this too. I think most of us have, even when we don’t mean to. But over time, I started asking myself a question that changed something in me: who am I to judge?
Really, who am I?
When I judge someone, I am often judging them based on my own standards, but who decided that my way of seeing the world is the only way?
What feels normal in one family may feel strange in another. What is acceptable in one culture may be misunderstood in another.
I know what it feels like to be judged from the outside. I have felt shame for where I am from, even though I never chose where I was born. For a long time, I was not always comfortable sharing that part of myself. When people hear “Middle East,” some of them already have assumptions before they know anything about you.
When I first moved, my English was not very well. There were moments when people gave me attitude because I could not express myself the way I wanted to. Sometimes people heard my name and immediately knew I was not from here. Thankfully, I am not saying this was the majority of my experience. Most people were kind, and I am grateful for that. But there were few moments that were not like that.
They taught me how quickly a person can feel small because of something they cannot control. An accent. A name. A birthplace. A background. A body. A job. A gender. A skin color.
And because I have felt that, I try to be more careful with others. If you’ve ever experienced that kind of judgment, I hear you!
You do not have to make yourself easier to understand in order to be respected. You do not have to shrink the parts of you that others may not know how to hold. You do not have to become more familiar, more acceptable, or more explainable to deserve kindness.
I may not know your whole story. I may not understand every part of your life, but I can still meet you with care. I can still choose curiosity before assumption. I can still remind myself that your humanity does not depend on how much of you I understand.
That is what humanity means to me.
It means respecting people before they have to explain themselves.
We can hurt people with the words we use.I don’t say this to make us afraid of speaking. I say it because I think we can become more thoughtful. We can ask better questions. We can listen with more humility.
Maybe the practice is not to never judge. I think that would be impossible. Maybe the practice is to notice when judgment arrives and ask ourselves: what am I assuming? What don’t I know? What standard am I using here? And who am I to decide that this person needs to live by it?
I think so much changes when we approach people this way.
I hope this space reminds you that you are allowed to arrive as you are.
A question I’m sitting with:
Where in your life could you replace judgment with curiosity?
With heart,
Bahar