Empathy is a Survival Skill

A couple months ago, I wrote a story that went viral. “A Woman Who Left Society to Live with Bears Weighs in on Man or Bear” is about patriarchy, human wholeness, and our shared quest for connection. It’s also about the constant vigilance that women often feel around men who are socialized to associate masculinity with power and control. And it’s about my continued sense of hope: that we can have conversations which transform us and change the situation we’re in.

My story had about a quarter million page views in its first couple weeks. The writer Rebecca Solnit (one of my longtime literary heroes!) reposted it on Facebook with a beautiful testimonial:

“In the man vs bear debate a woman who’s biked thousands of miles alone and camped a ton in the wilderness weighs in—and more than that; her unpacking of what patriarchy means and how it impacts both men and women is one of the most clear and brilliant I’ve read.”

This story also generated over 5,000 comments across social media, most of them positive and thoughtful. I think of comments as an extension of the original story. Even though I’d never met most of the commenters, I felt like we’d built something together.

And of course there was also a whole range of comments that were confusing, sad, threatening, and disturbing. They embodied the exact flailing, lonely-man vitriol I’d described in my story. Some men wrote that they hoped I’d be eaten by a bear. Some comments were so extreme that when I read them I burst into tears. Not because of the words, but because of the reality: I might meet these men someday in the world, and then what?

It was stressful but also expected. When you write about patriarchy within patriarchy, what you can expect back is: a certain amount of patriarchy. The aggressive comments were a clear reflection of why I’d written the story in the first place. They served as an unfortunate proof of theory.

When I looked deeply at men’s angry comments about my story, what I saw was fear and panic. I saw men who were desperate to maintain an illusion of control. I saw people in a state of emotional and relational fracture.

It’s taken me a while to reflect on this and come up with a clear response. It would be easy to parade certain comments out like a circus act and ratchet up the social tension. That’s the thing about aggressive behavior—it’s easy to escalate. The normal response to aggression is usually more aggression.

But this has never worked for me, and that’s one of the points I’d hoped to make clear in the story. My perspective on the world has grown in tandem with my ability to survive it. As a solo female traveler, if I responded to male aggression with more aggression, then quite frankly I don’t think I’d be alive right now. For me, nonviolent communication, conflict transformation, and empathy have been true survival skills.

I’ve biked and hiked thousands of miles around the world, hitch hiked twice across the Americas, and navigated many difficult situations. I often travel and camp alone. I know what it’s like to feel at home around strangers; I also know what it’s like to feel deeply afraid.

And I’ve learned without any shred of doubt that what people everywhere truly want is connection and mutual safety. Beneath the layers of culture, individuality, upbringing, conflict, and circumstance, it’s the basic foundation of human nature. In the darkest moments of my life, when I’ve had to face the truth of people’s scariest behaviors, this is what I’ve found.

Empathy is not a guarantee of safety, but I know that it makes the world safer. It makes the world safer because it creates the safety that all people mutually seek.  Empathy transforms conflict into relationship, and from that position, we all get something we need and desire.

As a solo female traveler, my central strategy for navigating the world of men is to look for their vulnerability. To try to see what they need but can’t get. To listen for the deeper story. If I can find a person’s vulnerability and hold it gently, I can make them feel safe. People who feel safe tend to calm down. This is how aggression deescalates. Empathy is a great skill for making friends and sharing resources; it’s also one of my main tools for transforming conflict and exiting dicey situations.

This is how I’ve learned to move through the world. I don’t do it because I’m nice, I do it because it works. It’s the grittiest, most challenging, and most practical skill that I have. 

Empathy is only effective when it’s balanced with autonomy, critical thinking, and personal agency. Empathy is not acquiescence, it’s presence. It means staying present to the truth of the situation I’m in, and working from within that truth to develop a better outcome. Part of that truth includes a deep respect for my own boundaries and self-worth. 

As a woman in patriarchy, I have to face the hard reality that I myself am continuously influenced by social structures that function to erode my sense of agency and self-worth. I actively counter this by studying feminist theory and intentionally absorbing a diverse array of female-centered media. I consistently surround myself with people, ideas, stories, and images that build, rather than detract, from my sense of agency in the world. 

This daily practice is crucial to my understanding and application of empathy. Empathy is only useful if it fully includes women–all kinds of women, from all kinds of backgrounds. We are essential to the balance of human wholeness, and I remind myself of this every day. 

I want to thank everyone who read and commented on my “Man or Bear” story, especially those who did so in a thoughtful, constructive, and nuanced way. Thank you for helping build this conversation. 

And to the people, mostly men, who added a lingering threat of aggression: I see you. You can’t hide. You’re just as human as I am, and I will never forget that.