I Reserve the Right to Change My Mind

 

I’ve changed my mind about quite a few things over the years. Some were little things, like deciding that a restaurant I once loved really wasn’t that good after all. Others were considerably bigger, involving beliefs, opinions, and ideas I once would have defended with absolute certainty. And you know what? I reserve the right to change my mind again tomorrow.

Somewhere along the way, we seem to have decided that changing your mind is a sign of weakness. If you believed something yesterday, you’re apparently expected to believe it today, tomorrow, and for the rest of your natural life. Otherwise, someone is bound to accuse you of being inconsistent, indecisive, or, heaven forbid, a hypocrite.

But come on, has anyone really thought the same thing forever? I’m certainly glad I’m not in the public eye, where people seem to delight in pointing out every opinion someone has ever changed. I’d be mortified if some of my past decisions were held up for public scrutiny. Although, come to think of it, the photographic evidence of a few of those decisions is still memorialized in albums I’ve conveniently hidden in the back of a closet.

Think about it. We change our minds about little things all the time without giving it a second thought. We try a food we swore we’d never eat and discover it’s delicious. We meet someone we were certain we wouldn’t like and end up adoring them. We buy an outfit we’re convinced is fabulous, only to look at it six months later and wonder what on earth we were thinking. Somehow, these changes are perfectly acceptable. But change your mind about something important, and suddenly people want an explanation, preferably accompanied by a sworn affidavit.

I think part of the problem is that we’ve become so attached to being right. We invest so much energy defending our opinions that eventually they start to feel like part of our identity. Admitting we were wrong can feel like admitting there’s something wrong with us. So instead, we dig in our heels, defend positions we’ve privately begun to question, and occasionally perform some rather impressive mental gymnastics to avoid saying three little words: “I was wrong.” Which is a shame, really, because those three words can be wonderfully liberating.

I’ve come to believe that one of the most interesting things about being human is our ability to evolve. Every new experience, conversation, friendship, disappointment, and discovery gives us another piece of information. Sometimes that information reinforces what we already believe. Sometimes it challenges us. And occasionally, it knocks one of our firmly held convictions right on its beautifully opinionated little behind. I’ve certainly had my share of those moments.

Of course, there’s a difference between changing your mind because you’ve learned something and changing it every time someone disagrees with you. I’m not suggesting we abandon our principles or become human weather vanes, spinning in whichever direction the latest breeze happens to blow. Having convictions matters. But so does being willing to examine them.

And perhaps that’s what troubles me most about how we disagree these days. We’ve become awfully quick to label people by what they believe at a particular moment, as though a single opinion tells us everything we need to know about them. Once someone has taken a position, we practically dare them to reconsider it. We dig up things they said years ago, point triumphantly at the contradiction, and shout, “Aha! You changed your mind!”

Well, yes. Isn’t that rather the point of learning?

I would hate to think that the person I was ten or twenty years ago had already figured everything out and that the rest of my life was simply going to be spent defending her conclusions. She had some good ideas, certainly. She also made a few questionable decisions, wore some unfortunate fashions, and occasionally mistook confidence for wisdom. I’m quite fond of her, but I don’t think she should be in charge of everything forever.

So I’ve decided to give myself permission to reconsider things. To listen to an argument without immediately preparing my rebuttal. To discover that someone I disagree with might actually have a point. To admit when new information changes the way I see something. And I’d like to extend that same courtesy to everyone else. After all, if we want people to grow, learn, and occasionally see things differently, shouldn’t we make it a little easier for them to do so?

As for me, I’ll continue having opinions. Plenty of them, I’m sure. I’ll share them enthusiastically, defend the ones I believe in, and occasionally discover that I was spectacularly wrong.  And when that happens, I reserve the right to change my mind. Of course, there’s also a very good chance I’ll have an opinion about that, too.

💡Charlotte