Ember's Writing

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In an age of rising populism and polarisation, the ability to engage in compassionate, open, and transformative conversations about gender and race has never been more urgent. Yet, for many people, especially white women, such dialogues come with layers of pain, defensiveness, and fear. How do we navigate these obstacles, particularly in contexts like Nonviolent Communication (NVC) as developed by Dr. Marshall Rosenberg? This question invites us to reimagine the decolonising roots of NVC and to critique the instrumental rationality that shapes much of Western thought on identity and power.

Here is my draft integration, offered as a white trans woman, sociologist, and NVC practitioner. I carry an extensive trauma history, which, with the support of an intersectional local women’s shelter, I am only just beginning to uncover. It deeply pains me to recognise how my trauma has contributed to my showing up, most especially in NVC communities in ways that I don’t fully enjoy. My hope is that this work will contribute to our growth and impact as feminists.

The Historical Weight of Instrumental Rationality and “Gender Ideology” Critiques

Our struggles in communicating across divides of race and gender are not entirely personal, they are rooted in centuries of intellectual history. Instrumental rationality, a core product of Enlightenment thinking, values efficiency, categorisation, and control, seeing individuals as means to an end. Grounded in the ideals of “progress,” Enlightenment thought also justified colonisation and the imposition of hierarchical social structures on diverse populations. This mindset reduced complex, living beings to roles and functions, defining people in ways that facilitated control and exploitation. Such thinking laid the groundwork for rigid social categories, race and gender among them, and enabled colonial systems to justify their dehumanising practices.

This Enlightenment legacy is also reflected in contemporary gender-critical, or “sex realist,” beliefs, such as those tweeted by J.K. Rowling. Rowling, along with other proponents of “sex realism,” often rejects what she terms “gender ideology,” the view that gender identity may differ from biological sex and that identity can hold as much validity as biology in social and legal contexts. By characterising “gender ideology” as invalid or dangerous, sex realists imply that the identities and lived experiences of transgender and non-binary individuals are less legitimate, reinforcing an essentialist view of sex and gender.

Judith Butler, challenges this perspective in their recent work on nonviolence, arguing that rigid categories of identity can lead to dehumanisation and social conflict. They posit that to practice true nonviolence, we must recognise and honour the fluidity of identity rather than enforcing fixed binaries that exclude and stigmatise. When NVC practitioners identify as “sex realist”, are they also dismissing gender identity as “ideology”? Is this incongruent with NVC’s foundations of empathy and nonviolence since “sex realism” denies the lived reality of those who exist beyond binary definitions of sex and gender? Or perhaps it is a simply a strategy in service of privileging ‘womens rights’ and safety over the strategy of a more intersectional feminism. How much does their trauma play a role?

Sarah Peyton’s work on the neuroscience of connection provides insight into why instrumental, left-brain thinking is so highly valued and reinforced. Peyton explains that left-brain, analytical thinking gives us a dopamine hit—a pleasurable reward that reinforces patterns of control, categorisation, and problem-solving. This kind of thinking, often celebrated in patriarchal structures, aligns with a focus on hierarchy, certainty, and efficiency. In a society that prizes instrumental rationality, these dopamine-reinforcing activities are seen as markers of intelligence and competence, further elevating them as desirable ways of engaging with the world.

By contrast, relational, nurturing, and intuitive ways of thinking—qualities often associated with femininity—are less likely to trigger this dopamine-driven reward. As a result, these more “feminine” modes of connection and empathy are undervalued and underdeveloped in a system that privileges categorisation over connection. Patriarchal systems thus encourage the pursuit of clarity and control at the expense of relational depth, often framing empathy and relational skills as “soft” or secondary. This dynamic reinforces a worldview that finds comfort in binary categories like “male” and “female,” while devaluing the fluidity and complexity inherent in gender and identity.

There is a notable irony in “sex realism” which insists on rigid, biologically determined definitions of womanhood, in that its proponants often claim an assuredness in rationality and rely upon and reinforce a legislative framework rooted in traditional sexual dimorphism. From binary birth certificates to legal definitions of gender based solely on assigned sex at birth, these systems have historically served as tools to control women’s bodies and reproduction, reinforcing their roles within marriage and, at times, framing women and children as legal property. Ironically, the very structures that sex realists appeal to when defending biological essentialism are those that have long justified the ownership, regulation, and restriction of women. By anchoring womanhood exclusively in biological terms, sex realism inadvertently perpetuates a view of identity that aligns with the same frameworks that have constrained women for centuries. To rely on these structures as the foundation of “defending women’s rights” is, therefore, a paradox, as it risks reinforcing the mechanisms of control that feminism has long sought to dismantle.

Recognising the Limitations of Universalism in NVC

I have seen some nonviolence practioners reluctant to walk towards racism, offering that NVC is a universal practice, applicable across all cultures and identities. To a large extent I have sympathy with that perspective, the principles of empathy, compassion, and nonviolence are indeed universally valuable and have the potential to transform human relationships. Furthermore there are many challenges in walking towards internalised racism as a privileged person, on the face of it, it is easy to see why it might not be an engaging proposition or use of ones time to ‘give up’ ones priveledge. However I am more and more convinced that without a conscious deconstruction of colonial privilege and the internalised structures of power that have shaped much of modern communication, NVC practitioners may be at risk of “spiritual bypass,” using the language of empathy and connection in ways which avoid deeper accountability and awareness of social injustice. When we focus solely on individual feelings and needs without addressing the collective histories and privileges that inform them, we risk sidestepping the profound work of equity and decolonisation that really supports empathy. Therefore for NVC to fulfil its potential, it must move beyond personal growth to become a tool of collective liberation.

The Challenges of Instrumental Thinking in Conversations on Race and Gender

Nonviolent Communication, offers a counterpoint to this reductionist mindset. Rooted in compassion, empathy, and understanding, NVC seeks to move beyond the limits of instrumental rationality (left brain) by inviting individuals to connect deeply with their own needs and those of others (right brain or relational thinking). Yet, NVC has often remained focused on individual relationships, sometimes failing to address the broader systems of privilege and oppression that condition our perceptions and interactions. I have even seen a self identified 'brilliant' NVC practioner claim boredom prevented them from finishing watching 'Deconstructing Karen', a documentary that follows anti-racism educators Saira Rao and Regina Jackson, co-founders of the group Race2Dinner, as they lead white women through challenging conversations about privilege, racism, and internalized biases.

For white women, engaging in conversations on race within an NVC framework can bring up complex layers of identity. On one hand, there is often a deep, authentic pain around experiences of gender-based oppression. At the same time, there exists an often unacknowledged privilege tied to race, a privilege that can be difficult to identify and confront, especially if gender oppression has already created a profound sense of vulnerability. As Kimberlé Crenshaw’s work on intersectionality highlights, identities cannot be understood in isolation, they are interwoven with systems of power that affect us all in different ways.

Paulo Freire a key influence on Marshall's formulation of NVC, offers the idea of “conscientisation,” or critical consciousness, which challenges us to acknowledge how these structures shape our relationships in service of liberation from these structures. For white women, this might mean seeing not only the ways in which gender creates limitations but also recognising the racial privileges that accompany whiteness. When we only focus on personal dynamics without acknowledging systemic contexts, our communication can therefore fall short of true empathy.

Toward a Decolonised NVC, Embracing Pain and Curiosity

If we are to move beyond these limitations, NVC must grow to include a commitment to decolonising work, one that actively examines and dismantles the power structures that prevent us from understanding each other. David Wengrow and David Graeber remind us that social structures shape not only how we see others but also how we see ourselves. Without acknowledging these structures within our NVC practice, we risk reinforcing existing hierarchies, especially in conversations about race.

Yet, as Thomas Szasz argued in his critique of pathologisation (another founding influence on NVC), we tend to avoid uncomfortable truths by medicalising or minimising them. For many white women, discussing racial privilege can feel destabilising, evoking pain, confusion, and a desire to retreat into gender-based identity. If we, as NVC practitioners, pathologise this resistance or deny its existence, we lose a chance for growth. Instead, what if we could see this discomfort as an entry point for self-inquiry and liberation, a moment to extend compassion to ourselves and others as we face these difficult truths?

This path toward a decolonised NVC requires immense courage and vulnerability. It calls on us to examine our own pain, to acknowledge the limits of our experiences, and to invite perspectives that challenge us. In doing so, we can create spaces where the pain of gender-based oppression and the responsibility of racial privilege can coexist, allowing for a more honest, healing dialogue.

Limitations and a Call for Mutual Exploration

I acknowledge that this reflection comes from my own perspective, which has its own biases, limitations, and blind spots. My intention is not to impose a single way of practising NVC or to accuse others of “doing it wrong.” Rather, I offer these thoughts as an invitation for shared inquiry and mutual growth. I admit my own confusion and my wish to explore these questions with curiosity and openness. I accept that it is tempting for me to weaponise theory against other feminists, as I wrestle with my distress. I see your pain and your rage and your strength sisters.

In the spirit of NVC, I yearn for a community where we can hold one another’s complexities, where white women, myself included, can move past defensiveness and embrace a fuller understanding of both our pain and our privilege. I hope for a space where we can learn to see beyond instrumental thinking, to honour the humanity of everyone involved, and to engage with the world in ways that are transformative for all. I have affinity with Ren Aldridge when she states, 'the world will not survive in the hands of toxic men'.

Perhaps NVC is the next step in Adorno’s unfinished opus in service of preventing the democratic repetition of the horrors of Nazi Germany. Perhaps we are contributing to a movement from alienation to connection, from hierarchy to mutuality, and from fear to love. In embracing a decolonised NVC, we may yet find the courage to walk towards this work together.