Part II/ Understanding Before Choosing Sides (#328)

One of the quickest reflexes we have as humans is choosing sides. We hear a story, feel an emotional pull, and immediately plant ourselves on one end of a narrative long before we fully understand what happened. This instinct isn’t rooted in malice. It’s rooted in loyalty. When someone we care about shares something, we want to stand with them. It feels like support. It feels like solidarity. It feels like the right thing to do.

But choosing sides too quickly can turn truth into collateral damage.

When information passes through multiple layers of people, perspectives, interpretations, and emotional filters, the story you receive is rarely the full version. It might be a fragment. It might be an interpretation. It might be a deeply biased retelling shaped by pain, disappointment, or long-standing patterns that the storyteller doesn’t even realize are influencing their delivery.

Yet we rarely pause long enough to ask ourselves whether we’re supporting a truth—or simply echoing someone else’s version of it.

Every conflict has multiple perspectives. Every situation has details that remain unseen by the people hearing about it secondhand. Every story has emotional undercurrents that shape how it is told. And human memory itself is far from perfect. People don’t just tell you what happened; they tell you what they felt happened.

If we are not careful, we begin defending a version of reality that was never fully real.

This is how family divides deepen.
This is how friendships fracture.
This is how workplaces become battlegrounds.
This is how misunderstandings harden into permanent distance.

Choosing sides without understanding the full picture creates damage that often cannot be undone—because once we take a position, our egos cling to it. We stop listening. We stop questioning. We stop being open to nuance. We start looking for evidence that supports our stance, rather than seeking truth itself.

Discernment is an act of maturity.
Slowing down is an act of wisdom.
Refusing to jump into emotional quicksand, even when invited, is an act of integrity.

It is not disloyal to gather information.
It is not disrespectful to ask questions.
It is not unkind to withhold judgment until clarity emerges.

In fact, it is one of the most compassionate things you can do for everyone involved—including the person who originally shared their side with you. Because standing with someone should never require abandoning fairness.

When you choose sides without understanding, you lose your grounding. You let someone else’s story dictate your feelings, reactions, and beliefs. But when you choose patience over immediacy, clarity over comfort, and truth over tribalism, you cultivate the kind of wisdom that prevents unnecessary conflict and preserves relationships.

You don’t have to take sides to be supportive.
You don’t have to choose a stance to show love.
You don’t have to adopt someone else’s feelings to be present with them.

You can stand beside someone without standing against anyone else.

Part II leaves us with a deeper question, one that can change the way we engage with every story we hear:

Do I choose sides because I truly understand the full truth, or because I trust the source who told me only a part of it?