CRITICAL LESSONS 2020 HELPED US SEE IN 20/20

(And we didn’t need hindsight to see them.)

Recently my wise friend Maura Kennedy-Smith, a Judge who I first met when we were both awkward middle schoolers, said to me, “You know, 2020 really has given us all 20/20 vision about who people are.” 

We all know that “hindsight is 20/20.” So often our lessons, not just about people but about life, are right in front of us. We just don’t see them until sometime later. We avoid learning, or the lessons just aren’t clear enough. This year, avoiding wasn’t possible. Whether ugly or beautiful, life’s teachings were utterly clear. We were forced to see, learn, and grow in real time.

In 2021, we can continue to see, and forge a better future for all, or we can forget these lessons. We forget them at our peril.

THREE CRITICAL LESSONS 2020 HELPED US SEE IN 20/20

WE SAW WHAT MATTERED: Values we held became values we lived.  

I’m a speaker, and at the beginning of the pandemic I fell into a financial crisis after most speaking work completely dried up. By necessity, my family had far fewer presents under the tree this year. I will admit, I’d been approaching Christmas with a strange mixture of cautious hope and anxiety inducing trepidation. 

My fears were wholly unfounded. What our few gifts lacked in financial value, they more than made up for in heart. Each present was thoughtful, personalized, and caring. I wrote letters to each one of the kids, and gave them one book from my most treasured personal collection.

That afternoon we distanced outside of my parents’ house, exchanging cards and listening to stories about my dad growing up. Physically disconnected, we were more attentive and connected than ever before. Later, we zoomed with two people who are in quarantine in our “family.”

The entire day was beautiful, and so very moving.

When material possessions are the focus, what’s important can be obscured. After my divorce I was thrilled that I could still afford to pile gifts under the tree for my kids. I was focused on material quantity. Heartfelt quality suffered. Now, I see clearly. If you have food, a roof over your head, and a healthy family, you really are living a bountiful life. This isn’t some amorphous platitude. It’s a concrete, irrefutable fact.

WE SAW OURSELVES: Our blind spots were revealed.

One of the things that makes it so hard for folks to understand each other is the challenge of believing experiences we have never had. In 2020 many of us had experiences that helped us see ourselves better.

Case in point, my dear friend Tom! 

For years I have tried to explain to Tom, a man who has lived a comfortable life, my experiences as a woman. I've also worked to help shift his perception about our friends of color. His answer was always the same, “We all have our struggles. People really need to relax.” About five months into the pandemic Tom called me. He was furious, indignant! His friends kept complaining about how busy they were at their jobs, while he was unemployed for the first time in his life. I decided to go for it, deliberately repeating Tom’s tried and true words back to him, “Well, we all have our struggles. Maybe you should relax.” Tom stopped talking for an uncomfortably long time, then abruptly got off the phone.

A week later, Tom called. He had done some painful thinking. He was embarrassed. Then, he asked me for “not too complicated” articles on issues of race and gender. If you had asked me in 2019 if Tom would make such a request, I would have said Donald Trump would be more likely to mandate nation wide diversity training in public schools. It took a pandemic for Tom to self-reflect, to really see himself. Why? For the first time, Tom was unseen.

WE SAW PEOPLE: Who is on our bus?

Maya Angelou says, “When people show you who they are, believe them.” I try to live by these words, but often find it challenging. This year, it was easy. The devastating financial blow of the pandemic allowed me to see people in ways I simply could not have before, stripping the veneer off of everyone, laying their personhood bare. Some jumped in to help. They sent me work, supported my Patreon page, and connected me with potential clients. When I nervously posted the cover of my forthcoming book on social media, my community cheered me on and bought it months in advance. A surprising number even messaged me, asking what else they could do to help. Those without the financial or social capital resources gave me a different limited resource: time. They took their precious time to offer me a shoulder when I needed it most. There were moments I sat on my bed so my kids wouldn’t see me and cried, not with sadness, but with an overwhelming feeling of utter gratitude.

Of course, not everyone responded this way. Indeed, they did just the opposite. Some avoided me. Despite the fact that I told them I was barely sleeping, working upwards of 14 to 17 hours a day to rebuild, many got angry when I was just too exhausted to support them as I had in the past. Others told me they “totally understood,” what I was going through, then promptly launched into their epic, and “traumatic” quest to find a manicurist during the pandemic. (I kid you not. This happened.) These folks were quite happy to be around me when I was soaring, but when things got tough, they got going. 

Oprah has said she doesn’t want to be friends with people who want to be on her bus. She wants to be friends with people who will stick with her when the bus breaks down. In 2020 so many of us saw, in real time, who would be there for us when the bus breaks down.

THE CHOICE WE FACE IN 2021

With the New Year approaching, my bus is reviving, thanks to support from my community and virtual transitioning in the speaker’s circuit. As the vaccine becomes more widespread, this will be the case for many, but it will not be for all. Far from it. The memory of 2020 will fade for the fortunate, and our 20/20 vision runs the risk of fading with it. 

We must continue to see that which is hard. Many will emerge financially decimated. The pain of racial injustice will not vanish. Women who have left the workplace in droves will be vulnerable. Children and teenagers suffering from record high numbers of depression will not magically recover overnight. Mortgage forgiveness will end, and people will lose their homes. For those who are fortunate, money, comfort, and a desire for “normalcy” runs the risk of breeding unprecedented apathy, ignorance, disconnection, and injustice for those who are not. 

A future that serves the few and harms the many does not have to be. We can work to mindfully see what matters, see ourselves, and see each other. If we do, we will have the unique opportunity to rebuild a more humane, just, honest, aware, and supportive society. 

Today, we are still in it; we still see now. Will we continue to see? Will we commit to going a step further, to envision, and fight for, a better future? 

This is the one thing we cannot see. What happens next is up to us.

BIO: Eliza VanCort is a speaker and writer on communications, career and workplace issues, and women’s empowerment. The founder of The Actor's Workshop of Ithaca, she is also a Cook House Fellow at Cornell University, an advisory board member of the Performing Arts for Social Change, a Diversity Crew partner, and a member of Govern For America's League of Innovators. Her first book, A Woman's Guide to Claiming Space: Stand Tall. Raise Your Voice. Be Heard., will be published by Berrett Koehler in May. You can reserve your copy now on Amazon. elizavancort.com

From the author: Thanks to all incredible people who stood on the side of the road with me when my bus broke down.