“Dialogue Me” Lives to Talk Another Day

​Have you ever felt that the state of our public square—the political gridlock, the hostility, the social media nastiness—is making everyone worse? Yeah, me too. Little did I realize that “everyone” includes me.

This story begins 13 years ago, when SkyLight Paths published my book on dialogue. Why Can’t We Talk? Christian Wisdom on Dialogue as a Habit of the Heart explains how to change from the inside out so you can talk, and listen, with people whose opinions drive you nuts. Even back then, I could see the divides that were fracturing the U.S., and I threw myself into doing my one-person’s bit to heal them. It seemed like good, essential, compassionate work to bring out the best in all of us.

Then came Trump’s victories in 2016 and 2024, which hit me very hard. I made the mistake of taking them personally, as though the world looked at my life’s work in dialogue and sneered. As a result, I recoiled. My deeper layers have become darker. My basic stance is less conciliatory and more contentious. I don’t have the will to maintain ties with beloved friends who disagree with me.

On balance, my life is going well: the writing, the spiritual direction. I’ve kept up with dialogue on some level—responding to friends’ posts occasionally, etc. But I miss Dialogue Me, the openhearted person whose instinct was to reach out. I’ve been starting to wonder whether she’s gone forever.

Then, just this past week, a brilliant friend of mine posted on Facebook about a development in transgender news. One of her opponents chimed in with a few sharp elbows. Others contributed honest opinions and thoughtful comments.

And an old instinct sprang to life.

I saw places where opposing comments, rather than fighting each other as either/ors, could be harmonized into a workable both/and. I longed to take everyone’s experiences seriously, even those that made me squirm. I wrote my own, conciliatory, comment expressing these things.

There she was: Dialogue Me, still inclined to do dialogue things.

It’s hard to overstate the rush of hope that flooded my chest. Part of me, at least, still yearns to be part of the solution, to bring people together, even when it seems no one wants to come together. Dialogue Me is surviving Trumpworld bloodied, but intact.

My God, I hope this persists. I’m going to do what I can to make sure it does.