We all know this: we are living in a time where few feel safe, and many of those same few don’t know where to go and where to turn for protection. Our homes used to be safe and even sacred space for its residents; workplaces and religious edifices might also have been considered as environments free from harm.
Nowadays, not a day goes by without heinous news of innocent people being attacked and driven out of their surroundings for a multitude of illegal or otherwise paranoid reasons. What is safety? Who is safe to be with? How can we ever know we are truly safe — from “enemies,” from increasingly pernicious government, from those who think or even look differently? And this leads me to a related question — what is it that we are so fearful of? Does a sense of fear obliterate any feeling of safety? These are not theoretical queries — in light of the lived experiences of so many, they are increasingly real and immediate. What does safety feel like, and what can we each do to feel safe?
For many, maintaining safety has everything to do with building and sustaining trust. If we cannot trust an individual, an institution or system, or a group, we are not going to feel safe around, near, or with them. And, once these human units close in around us, we get to thinking and feeling that there is no place to go. We hide. We freeze. We remain within the confines of our homes, or maybe our religious institutions. Even there, we must question our safety and the level of protection afforded us.
Recently, I noticed a Greenfield Police vehicle parked outside Temple Israel during and throughout the Jewish High Holy Days. That there needed to be a police presence there did not make me feel safe. Rather, it reminded me that those within were potential victims of wanton or targeted violence. Too many situations like this end up with innocent lives being taken. There’s no safety in that. ICE is anywhere and everywhere, most often for the wrong and completely unsubstantiated reasons — even in Greenfield and Franklin County. There are too many reasons to feel scared, unsafe, unprotected. We live increasingly anxious lives and we perceive that we lack the individual power to change this. How does one go about creating emotional and physical safety?
Most of us live and go about our daily lives in increasingly larger concentric circles — self, couple/partner/spouse, family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, community members, and onward and outward. Where, in these circles, do you start to feel unsafe, or question your safety? I read, see, and hear stories everywhere about those that one once trusted as being the same people that turn on, and turn in, their neighbors. As trust decreases, fear increases.
This may be controversial, but I do believe that some degree of safety begins within oneself. Do we trust ourselves to be problem-solvers and resolvers? Do we know how to care-take and take care? Are we OK with being alone — where and when? Are we willing to risk asking another for help — for security, protection, having our backs? I’ve had times and places when I’ve had to review, even analyze, these questions for myself before I am even able to take appropriate action. I’m an older white male — so, one might think I “should” be safe as I am within that “power cohort” called our federal government … but there are many reasons why I don’t feel that way. So what does, and what can, one do, if they do not feel safe in their personal human self?
I speak about this with friends, colleagues, neighbors, and family. And I listen. And I ask
questions, many of them. All of this helps nudge the needle toward safety, but all is not safe. If conversations are reciprocal, safety inches along. I begin to recognize that I am not alone. Others are in this with me, and think along similar lines. I join groups, programs, and services designed to promote and educate about safety. I volunteer. I observe. I reach out to others when I sense there’s need, but often I don’t wait to see the need — I’ve come to trust my intuition and often act on it for safety’s sake, whether emotional or physical. All of this matters, as those concentric circles become stronger, even to the point of feeling occasionally impermeable.
Home needs to be safe. How to make it safer? What help do we need? Friends are safe; that, to me, is one of the definitions of friendship. My fellow workers, colleagues, and family members are generally safe and trustworthy. I am in ongoing communication with many of them, as much to reach out and support them as to share my own fears and concerns. I am on general alert on the streets and sidewalks of town, thinking I am safe, but never anywhere near 100%. I know where I can go to create a momentary haven – but that’s not nearly the same for all of us. One way I know I am safe – or safe enough – is when my breathing slows down and I can close my eyes without fear. It would behoove us all to do what we can for ourselves and one another for safety’s sake.
Daniel Cantor Yalowitz writes a regular column in the Recorder. A developmental and intercultural psychologist, he has facilitated change in many organizations and communities around the world. His two most recent books are “Journeying with Your Archetypes” and “Reflections on the Nature of Friendship.” Reach out to him at danielcyalowitz@gmail.com.