There are ten ways my approach differs from most anti-oppression work I’ve experienced. Read them all or skip to number 10 to get to the core of my approach.

1. Anti-oppression work tends to overemphasize analysis and intellectual learning. We learn what systems of oppression are, how they’re embedded in culture, and how they affect our lives. We learn checklists of what we should be doing and what we shouldn’t be doing. While these things are important and helpful, they are barely the first step on the journey.
   
   Imagine you decided you wanted to climb Mount Everest, and the only thing you received in preparation was a map. That would be a setup for tragic failure. First of all, a map is not the terrain. And second, a single map doesn’t even begin to equip you with the skills and practice you’d need to climb 29,000 feet.

   
   The serious practice of anti-oppression means wading into some of the most excruciating experiences life has to offer. Just like climbing Mount Everest, it is a treacherous path that involves risk and requires preparation. We must build strong communities capable of holding difficult human dynamics steady enough for them to surface and heal. We must build relationships strong enough to hold each other accountable in the work. And it’s a long journey - certainly longer than it would take to climb Mount Everest.
   
   

2. Anti-oppression work often encourages a fast-paced urgency that attempts to force change. “If you’re not doing the work with me, get out of my way because I don’t have time for you,” I recently heard a DEI trainer tell her audience. Urgency and quickness are important in short-term emergencies and certain types of political action, but this strategy doesn’t work well over the long-haul when we’re trying to transform human dynamics.

   
   When we’re working with the human dynamics of oppression, going slow is actually a short-cut to creating the real possibility of equity and justice. We have to go slow enough for people to genuinely process and integrate what’s happening to them. It will take us much longer if we try to go too fast. People cannot simply willpower themselves into meaningful change. I think that would be more obvious to us if we understood that all dynamics of oppression are trauma responses, and we can’t freight train our way through trauma.
   
   

3. Anti-oppression work tends to overemphasize external activism and underemphasize internal healing and growth. Groups that do internal work are often criticized for naval-gazing and not being out in the streets. Being out in the streets is important. But we can’t effectively do external work without inner work, and vice versa. Imbalance will ultimately sabotage our work. As Shakil Choudhury put it, “Anger, rage, rigid boundaries and demanding change are honest responses to injustice AND lead to burn out if they become our default states. Inner work and healing allows us to move sustainably towards compassionate yet courageous conversations that nurture Beloved Community.” I strive to balance the necessary inner and outer work through a praxis-oriented learning model that is rooted in accountability.
   
   

4. Anti-oppression work needs a more nuanced appreciation of power. We tend to talk about power as if only those who are privileged by systems of power have it. I believe we all have access to incredible sources of power, even when we don’t have easy access to privilege, but it’s certainly complex and challenging. Because most of us use our power unconsciously, it can be difficult to learn about. Learning to use the many dimensions of power well is a fundamental pillar of my work.
   
   

5. Anti-oppression spaces are sometimes blind to the ways they can inadvertently replicate dynamics of oppression. (See Frances Lee’s “Excommunicate Me from the Church of Social Justice” or Tada Hozumi’s “Understanding accountability abuse.”) There’s an assumption that because we’ve all come here to be against oppression, we won’t participate in it. Nothing could be further from the truth. Because dynamics of oppression are trauma responses, we’re prone to replicate them unconsciously, especially in anti-oppression spaces. One way I grapple with this challenge is by building communities and containers strong enough to hold the challenging conversations that will inevitably need to happen in order for us all to grow.
   
   

6. Anti-oppression work ironically needs a more nuanced understanding of oppression. We sometimes talk about it without much consideration of exactly what it is, why it happens, and how we can usefully engage with it. We do not always come to it, as Paulo Freire would say, with a critical consciousness. In my view, “oppression” and “systems of oppression” are two terms that are related but different. Everyone alive knows what it's like to be oppressed, at least on some level. But we have very different experiences when it comes to being oppressed by systems. This creates a complex social landscape that takes real knowledge and skill to navigate. I teach ways of understanding this landscape and skills for navigating it.
   
   

7. Anti-oppression work could use an update in its approach to shame. Too often, we subtly or overtly rely on shame as a motivational tool to get people on board with our work, and then we tell them that their shame is of no use to anyone. It’s a confusing double signal that does little to heal shame.
   
   Shame is a complex phenomenon. I believe it is a natural response to trauma, but it is also a major barrier to healing from oppression. One of the trickiest parts of our work over the long-haul is healing shame, which is pretty unusual for most anti-oppression spaces. I find that the most effective work in healing shame happens when we work on it both individually and in groups. There are no one-size-fits-all solutions to healing shame, but building communities strong enough so that each person can be truly seen for their beauty and value is one sure way I know to support it.
   
   

8. Anti-oppression work tends to rely most on the least enlightened form of psychology (at least in my view) to explain our experiences of systems of oppression: behaviorism. Behaviorism attempts to explain human behavior almost entirely in terms of conditioning. Understanding ourselves in terms of our conditioning is extremely useful. However, when it’s the only tool we have, it poses a real problem to healing. Yes - our conditioning is a central part of who we are and how we behave, and it is far from all of who we are. Anti-oppression needs to update its basic psychological approach.
   
   My psychological approach to working with oppression is based largely on Processwork, which is a model for working with individuals and groups that trusts that the wisdom of what’s needed is already inherent within the person or group - it may just need more support to be realized and integrated. Processwork is strongly informed by Jungian psychology, dream work, Taoist philosophy, systems theory, and quantum physics. I also see a lot of commonalities between Processwork and Internal Family Systems work. It’s impossible to explain simply, but one way that I think fits is to say Processwork is a kind of Taoist psychology.
   
   

9. Anti-oppression work does not yet fully understand the critical link between oppression and addiction. The reality is that oppression and addiction cannot be separated from one another. Why? Because they are both symptoms that reliably show up in the aftermath trauma. In the same way that swelling and bruising show up after a bodily injury, oppression and addiction show up after an injury to a person’s, family’s, or culture’s being. They are two sides of the same coin, and unconsciousness is a central actor in both. Unprocessed and unsupported, these symptoms of trauma become causes of it. This is the cycle of generational trauma that anti-oppression work seeks to heal. Those who work with addiction often have the same foundational skills needed to work with oppression and vice versa. However, both the treatment of addiction and efforts against oppression have often fallen into similar pitfalls over the past few centuries. We need updates to both approaches, and they have a lot to teach one another. You can read my article on this topic here.
   
   

10. Lastly, and this is really the core of my approach, anti-oppression work needs to take more seriously the power of nonjudgmental awareness, true love, and compassion (sometimes fierce compassion) to transform our world. If you hear that and think I’m talking about fluffy nonsense or boutique activism, I’d say you’re not understanding where I’m coming from. Developing the capacity to offer compassion and love as antidotes to oppression is one of the most difficult things most of us could ever do. They’re not called for in every moment, but they’re absolutely essential ingredients when we’re seeking true transformation. As I recently heard Paul Kivel put it, “We must love people into our movements for justice.”
    
    I help people not only to increase their capacity for love, but also to access it alongside their power. Love and power are, after all, two sides of the same coin. We must develop and use them in balanced ways.