It’s okay to admit you have been wrong in the past. In fact there often comes a time when it is important to do so. I wish I could say it is a cathartic experience, but in reality it is mostly painful and embarrassing.
I wrote about one such experience a few years ago in relation to my thoughts around the date of Australia Day. But that episode only scratches the surface of beliefs and actions from my past I would freely admit were wrong, some of which I am genuinely embarrassed and disappointed with myself over. I don’t enjoy dwelling on them, but I am also not going to pretend they didn’t happen. I would like to think that they were less a product of inherent prejudice or chauvinism than ignorance, but that doesn’t make me feel a whole lot better about any of it. Nor does the very real role that social conditioning would have played in my past behaviour. I just have to own that in both past word and action I have not lived up to values I hold as important. So what do I need to do about it? Well not a great deal really. I don’t feel a great sense of shame or the need to endlessly self-flagellate, but I have certainly made concerted effort to become a better person in recent years.
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