Conflict. Just the word makes many of us uncomfortable. For me, as a gay man, it has often carried an even heavier weight.
When I think of conflict, I don’t just imagine tense conversations—I recall the time someone spit on me in a Walmart. The time food was thrown at me and my boyfriend in a park for simply trying to hold hands in the dark. The day I found slurs spray-painted across my minivan. And yes, the moments when conflict escalated into shoves, punches, and worse.
Those memories sit close to the surface, ready to replay at the first sign of tension. Yet over time, I’ve learned to hit pause. Instead remembering the greater number of times when facing conflict with courage led to better outcomes—and the many times avoiding conflict only made things worse.
Now I try to focus on the times I courageously embraced conflict. Like the time I talked with an ex about the reasons I broke it off as opposed to avoiding him. Now we’re close friends. Or the time I was one of the only ones to oppose a statewide action that eventually was discovered to be harmful.
Now I see conflict not as something to fear or avoid, but as a necessary part of growth and progress. Along the way, I’ve developed language, positioning, and reasoning skills that help me navigate tough conversations with more confidence. I’m excited about sharing these tools with others—helping them move from avoidance to being prepared and empowered.
I teach a conflict resolution training through the Center for Trauma & Stress Education, but it’s also been one of the most defining parts of my personal journey. I used to be a person who avoided conflict like the plague. I’ve had to rewire how my brain responds to conflict. I’ve taken courses, read books, joined forums, and now I’m increasingly called in to mediate heated disputes between or within nonprofits.
At two recent trainings, participants asked me the same blunt question: “What if conflict can’t be resolved? Can you teach us how to win a conflict?”
That question exposed a flaw in so much of the conflict training out there today: the assumption that every conflict can—and should—be neatly resolved through compromise. But compromise isn’t always the best outcome.
Why We Avoid It
Conflict is everywhere: in our families, workplaces, neighborhoods, and communities. But most of us would rather run from it than face it. Research from the Center for Creative Leadership shows only 27% of people feel comfortable engaging in conflict at all let alone have the tools to do so effectively. That leaves the vast majority unprepared when disagreements inevitably arise.
The problem is that “go along to get along” doesn’t always serve us. Sometimes it allows harmful behaviors to go unchecked, weakens trust, or forces those with less power to keep surrendering ground until nothing is left.
In this moment, “going along to get along” is the surrender of the very ground we need to stand on.
The Pizza Problem
Imagine two children each given a slice of pizza. One child decides they want both. A “compromise” might be for the other child to hand over half their slice. But what happens when more kids notice? The one child keeps giving up half until nothing is left.
That isn’t resolution. That’s surrender.
Sometimes the healthier response isn’t to keep cutting your slice thinner—it’s to stand firm, with others, and say: No. Enough. Let me eat my pizza.
When Compromise Costs Too Much
Not long ago, I debated a neighbor about gay marriage. They opposed it. I, happily married to my husband, supported it. Eventually, my neighbor shrugged: “Let’s just agree we both have a point.”
It was tempting to take the easy exit. But agreeing that both sides were equally valid would have meant treating my very marriage—my family—as optional. That’s not compromise. That’s surrender of sacred ground that is deeply personal and important to me.
So instead, I said: “I can’t agree to that. But I can agree to keep working on this.”
A Call to Courage
Conflict doesn’t always end in neat resolutions. Sometimes it ends in hard truths, principled stands, or long, uncomfortable conversations. And that’s okay. Because the real power of conflict isn’t in pretending everyone is right—it’s in building the courage, skills, and resilience to face the hard stuff together.
Here are some great places to start: practice listening without interrupting, take a conflict training, practice and role play an uncomfortable conversation with a friend, etc.
Compromise has its place. But so does conviction and courage. And in today’s world, we need to focus our efforts on stockpiling the last two.
We deserve to enjoy our pizza slice. In the spirit of courageously embracing conflict, I enjoy mine with pineapple.
