The chokehold of egocentric competition is something worth pausing to reflect on, because it engenders a posture of territorial defense. At times, that posture can feel like self-honor, like vigilance, preparedness, or strength. But as we move through this season of history, I find myself wondering if we do not challenge the spirit of competition that has been ingrained into our collective psyche out of fear: fear that there will not be enough, fear that we will not be chosen, fear rooted in scarcity.
Left unchecked, this pressure cooker begins to see threats where there are none. The balance between protection and collaboration becomes uneven. Boundaries, once meant to create safety and clarity, begin to construct silos and trigger estrangement. The rat race accelerates, and in doing so, it steals the potential for collective power.
Scarcity is not an abstract concept. Our human nature is wired to hunt, gather, and survive. But when competition becomes the dominant framework through which we navigate community, it does more than motivate. It fractures. It creates chasms where collaboration could exist. It trains us to see one another not as partners, but as threats, or even enemies.
The spirit of competition shouts commands to perform, outdo, chase, and rise to the top. It grips us in ways we often do not recognize, shaping our behaviors beneath the surface. In a culture obsessed with rank, hierarchy becomes the measure of worth rather than collective care. In our exhaustion, maybe even our disillusionment, we push ourselves to win, to prove ourselves, to perform. The energy that showed up in Selma, in Montgomery, in Greensboro shifts, diluted by individualism rather than fueled by collective resolve.
It feels especially important to interrogate this mindset in the month when we honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., whose legacy is often reduced to words instead of action, specifically collective action.
Dr. King’s vision was never about individual advancement. It was about shared struggle and shared responsibility. Together, we fight a better battle. But that togetherness requires vulnerability. It requires loosening our grip long enough to reach for the hand beside us, trusting that no one reaches the summit alone.
Competition often overshadows our fundamental need to exist without performance. Performance is a display, the outward manifestation of rehearsed lives. It asks us to be constantly visible, constantly impressive, constantly on. But authenticity does not require rehearsal. Community does not require perfection.
Perhaps the challenge before us is to juxtapose authenticity with performance. Are we rooted in truth, or is fear causing harm within our community? Can collaboration, rather than dominance, become our measure of success? Collaboration. Understanding. The ability to disagree and still remain in community. These are not weaknesses. They are disciplines.
Does the chokehold of competition keep us trapped into a scarcity mindset? We have to ask ourselves: what are we so afraid of? Because if competition is driving us, then no amount of winning will ever feel like enough.