To treat people with respect

You brought them into this world. You need to help take care of them.

-Housing agency employee

Let me tell you the full story. Settle in.

My mom was considering her housing options. We were unsure whether or not she would qualify for assistance through Section 8. We called the housing agency in the county my mom wanted to live in to ask their requirements.

It was difficult for me to communicate with the lady who answered the phone. We had a hard time understanding each other. I was looking for specific income and asset thresholds. She was more focused on defining income. At the time I made this call my mother was unemployed and I made the mistake of saying she had no income. The lady on the phone explained to me that any money or goods my mom received was considered income. She actually said, "If you buy toilet paper for her, that's income."

She also refused to believe my mom was currently living in a house without running water.

After asking repeatedly, the lady would not give me specific "income" and asset qualifications. I was frustrated. I considered calling the state housing agency to complain about the level of customer service I received. Instead, my mom and I decided to give this lady the benefit of the doubt. I had called at lunch time. She may have been having a bad day. I may not have communicated well with her.

My husband works in the IT department of the state housing agency, so I asked him for help. Within minutes one of his co-workers provided me with the information I was looking for. My mom would qualify for Section 8 assistance. The next step would be to go to the local office during the two hours each month when they allow people to sign up and put her name on the waiting list. (The wait is generally six to twelve months I was told. When your name comes up, you officially apply and then receive assistance if you qualify.)

A couple weeks later we pulled into the parking lot of the local office. It wasn't as crowded as we had anticipated. My mom confided to me on our way in, "I hope they have a private area for us to give our information. It's embarrassing to say all of that in front of other people."

A paper sign on the door told us what would be required when we stepped through. (Basically, if you can't provide this information, come back when you can... during our two hour window next month.)

Once inside, a lady standing behind a tall desk in a lobby area asked us to take a number and pointed to a room where everyone was waiting. With that one sentence I matched her voice to the lady who had answered my phone call.

We took our number and found seats in the room. People were making small talk and "the line" was moving quickly. Every few minutes a worker would emerge from the hallway and call a number. I assume those people were interviewed in offices. We weren't able to see or hear them after they walked down the hallway.

The lady in the lobby was also interviewing people. She would not come to the room, but simply called the next number from her desk in the lobby. We didn't have any problem hearing her, or the people whose applications she was taking.

I hoped we would get another worker.

People in the waiting room were mumbling about her rudeness.

I could hear her interviewing a man whose face I never saw. He worked in the automotive field, but things had been slow for the business that employed him.

"Right now we're living on $330 a month," he said.

He continued to answer the questions but there was a sense of urgency in his voice. "How long will it be?" he asked. "I really need something soon," he said. "Is there any way I can get help quicker?" And finally, "I just really need a place for my kids."

"Well, you brought them into this world. You need to help take care of them," the lady said.

I couldn't believe my ears. My mom and I looked at each other, wide-eyed. There was a visible and audible reaction around the room.

"I don't think that's her place," one said.

"This is worse than the food stamp office," another said.

I was seething. I pulled out my cell phone and began typing a text to my husband. I would find out how to report this lady. That was just inexcusable!

Before I could finish the text my mom's number was called. By the lady. I wanted to stall, but my mom was already out of her seat. She told me later she had decided immediately to be as overwhelmingly nice to this lady as she possibly could be.

The interaction went well. I felt ready to pounce on her if she said one thing out of line to my mom. She didn't.

I searched for a name tag, a badge, a business card that would identify her. I thought I remembered her name from the phone call, but I didn't feel like that was certain enough. What if two workers sounded similar? What if I remembered the name wrong?

I wondered if anything I might do could affect my mom's application. I decided that would be inappropriate and my husband could again connect me to the right people at the state level if that were to happen.

With her application complete we were ready to walk away. I felt like I needed this lady's name to report her, and I didn't know any other way to get it than to ask. So I did. And she told me.

There we stood with the desk between us. To thank her and walk away felt disingenuous. She was the person I was ultimately trying to reach. She was smiling and I was smiling. She seemed almost... open.

Before I could stop them, the words spilled out of my mouth: "I'm sure you have a tough job, but I feel like you've been really insensitive to people this morning."

She didn't seem open anymore. "How have I been insensitive?!"

I could have made a list. Truly. But I couldn't get that man out of my head, and probably if not for that one interaction I wouldn't have said or done anything. So I planned to start with him.

"The gentleman who was here earlier. You told him that he brought his kids into the world and he needed to help take care of them. That wasn't very nice and I don't feel like that is an appropriate thing for you to say."

The seconds felt like hours. What was going to happen next? Did the people in the room hear me? Did they feel empowered? Should I ask for a supervisor?

"Maybe you should take some additional sensitivity training or something."

Did I just say that out loud?

"We only have two hours to process everyone's application," she said.

That's not an excuse to be rude. Maybe you should allot more than two hours a month for this.

She had already called the next number. I wasn't sure what to say or do next, so I walked out the door.

Sitting in the car, shaking and crying the second-guessing began. Should I have stood up immediately and introduced myself to that man and addressed the misbehavior as soon as it happened? Should I have not said anything and just filed a formal report? Should I have not left until I spoke with a supervisor or saw some tangible change or result? Did I just make things worse for the people left waiting?

And the question I've been mulling for weeks: What should I do now?

I thought about filing a formal report. I thought about contacting the local newspaper and doing some investigating, possibly even undercover. I thought about going to the housing agency during their two hour window every month and interviewing people to see how the interactions made them feel. I thought about also doing that at the local food stamp office. Sounds like they may have some customer service issues there, too. Or just going and talking to the people and brainstorming ways to help them in less than six months, in more than a two hour time frame. Or offering to sit or stand with them as they answered the questions. 

I thought about surveying my friends about how to handle it. I thought about writing an open letter to social service workers, asking them to strive for kindness in their interactions with their clients.

So far, I haven't done any of those things. 

The other night a blog post popped up on my newsfeed retelling the story of a woman standing up for the mistreatment of a minority couple in front of her in the grocery checkout line. I thought back to this incident and felt like I could relate to her.

As I have reflected on that encounter that day, I have felt a range of emotions. The lady's words underscore many popular misconceptions about impoverished people and those who seek assistance from the government. There are many examples of how programs meant to help don't quite reach what they're aiming for. And the people's reactions and interactions only highlight the destructiveness it can bring. 

I'm not sure I did the right thing that day. On a scale, I don't think I landed at the bottom. But my reaction was not perfect by any means. And I don't even know what kind of impact it had. I hope the lady became more aware of how she was treating people. I hope the people in the waiting room were encouraged and reminded that even though they are asking for a hand up doesn't mean they should be talked down to. But I could have just made things worse. I may never know.

Still, I can't help but thinking that doing something is better than doing nothing. 

What if we all stood up in our little, imperfect ways? What if instead of grumbling or acting out passively or just wallowing in apathy or despair or hopelessness or powerlessness we chose to stand next to our brothers and sisters -- like we would for our brothers and sisters -- when they are so blatantly wronged? (And with the understanding that those on the other side are also our brothers and sisters.)

I think we could make a difference. 

And I think people are already making a difference by standing against injustices in their own quiet and peaceful ways. I hope that by sharing experiences like these we can spur one another on. I hope this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

Note: This post was forwarded (without my knowledge) to the state housing agency and I have been contacted personally by staff in the Frankfort and Louisville offices. While the housing agency that we had this experience at only falls under the jurisdiction of one, both have expressed deep apologies that any housing employee would act in this way. Both have extended offers to help my mom in any way possible. In short, I have been overwhelmed by the immediate and heartfelt response. And am reminded that while some government employees are not stellar, many are devoted, hardworking and often don't get the recognition or respect they deserve.

Criticism reframe

Asking a working writer what he thinks about critics is like asking a lamppost what it feels about dogs.
-John Osborne

I may be the last person in America to know about Divergent.  I mean, I've seen random posts from friends about the book series and Veronica Roth.  But I didn't really know what they were about and didn't take the time to investigate.  I've been a bit pre-occupied these last few months.

I was watching live television Tuesday night and couldn't fast-forward through a movie preview about a girl trying to break free from a society of factions.  I was intrigued.  The movie: Divergent.  The pieces came together.  That's what people have been talking about.

I decided to check out the book series on Amazon.  I wasn't sure if I would like it or not.  Though not a hard and fast rule, I usually don't L-O-V-E love other-worldly-ish science-fiction-y books (which this looked to be).

I decided to scroll through some reader reviews and came across this one:

...The real reason I give this book one star is because the book, as a whole, was awful. I'm sorry, but this is one of the most shoddily written books I've ever read in my entire life. And I say this as someone who absolutely adored the first two books in this series. I say this as someone who read Fifty Shades of Grey ... and Allegiant has officially taken that book's place as the worst book I've ever read. And I debated somewhat on that, but I decided that Allegiant wins because, while Fifty Shades was an affront to literature indeed, I don't actually wish I could go back in time and unread it. I wish to the heavens that I had never read Allegiant. ...

I don't know much about these books, their writer or this reader.  But words like that paralyze me.

They make me think: If a best-selling, publisher-contracted author whose words have been catapulted to the big screen gets reviews like that, then what would people say about the words I write if they read them?

We've been talking about obstacles in the (in)courage writers' group I'm blessed to be a part of and one of my biggest is fear of criticism.  Before I click publish, I begin to imagine how my words might be criticized.  I have more than two dozen un-published drafts in my blog queue.  Many of them stalled out of fear at how they might be received.  For style or for content.

This fear is why I stay silent more than I speak up.  Imagine my struggle when I learned that silence is also criticized!  What can a girl do to banish the critics?!?!

Well, while I do wish we lived in a world where people are nicer to one another.  And I do think we have become an overly-critical people.  (Wait... I'm being critical... This is so hard.)  The truth is, there will always be critics.  Criticism is inevitable.  Even Jesus -- especially Jesus -- was criticized.

And sometimes criticism can be a good thing.  What if Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. had not been critical?

Maybe the best way is not to avoid criticism, but to work through it.  To work despite it.  To be grounded in my value and my worth (as Alia Boston Hagenbach reminded our writers' group) and my own personal truth and to share those with the world in love.

Maybe the best way is not to avoid criticizing, but to do so with respect and thoughtfulness.  To work to build up and improve, not tear down and destroy.

To remember that the best way to move forward together is to keep a dialogue open to every voice, every side, every ideology.

And to remember when words boomerang back harshly at me that even best-selling, publisher-contracted authors whose words are played out on-screen have their critics.

Just like a harsh judgment doesn't make her any less than, it doesn't make me less than either.

Worth the wait

Earlier this year my husband instituted a weekly date night and charged himself with all the planning and coordinating.  Time with my handsome, sweet, funny hubby and no work involved for me?  Yes please!

Don't worry, this isn't a post about that kind of waiting. 

Felt like I needed to say that.  I didn't want you all to get the wrong impression when I lead a waiting post with a story about my husband. 

Anyway...

On our most recent date my husband took me to a local diner.

The place is quaint, antique signs hanging on the wall.  We situated ourselves in a corner booth.  My view was a tree-covered mountain outside the window.  Resting my eyes on a Kentucky mountain fills my soul like good food fills my stomach.  And with my eyes fixed on the scenery, I listened to the sounds behind me. 

The waitress's voice matched the mountain.  I grew up here and Kentucky twang was normal vanilla until I visited and lived other places.  Now it is pure, sweet music to my ears.

She called an elderly gentleman by name, joked about flies at a funeral and confirmed the order she already knew he wanted. 

When she made it over to our table we asked how big the hamburgers were, trying to decide between a single or double patty.

"Well, are ya hungry?"  We laughed.  One patty would be plenty.

I listened as the man visited with a lady seated near him.  They both grew up here.  They talked of their brothers and sisters.  Their parents.  Their spouses, now deceased.  I heard a sweet courting story and fought back tears to hear how it ended. 

Eyes on the mountain, it felt like home and happiness.  This culture, these sounds, these conversations, these views.  This is why I love Kentucky.  This and so much more.

When we made it to the cash register to pay, we were just behind the man we had heard throughout our meal.  He himself was hard of hearing.  With a smile on her face, the waitress repeated his total a few times.  He counted out dollar bills -- with her help -- and came up one short.  He took the money back, pulled out a five and asked her to take three ones from the stack he held in his hand to settle his bill.  She gave him change.

Putting his wallet back in his pocket, he realized he was missing a rubber band, and the young girl -- both waitress and cashier -- came from behind the counter to help him look.  Not for lack of diligence, they didn't find it. 

Only when the man started to walk away did she turn her attention to us, just as friendly. 

I couldn't help but check Mr. Regular's table on the way out. He left her no tip.  I'm sure she knew how it would be but offered him wonderful service the same.

I could tell story after story after story like this one.  And also story after story after story not like this one.

I enjoyed the waiting that night, but haven't always appreciated slow service.  Even when it has been the price for building relationships and honoring others.

I complain a lot about how much longer it takes to do just about anything here. But I've never complained about friendliness or about hospitality.  About neighbors willing to help.  I wait more, but I do it surrounded by people who smile and chat and don't get worked up.  Plans change on a dime if someone is in need -- and that someone can be anyone.

It's a great lesson for me.  I plan and rush and juggle and fight to keep up.  My schedule is my holy grail.  Not honoring it a grave offense. 

And like much of our American culture, I'm getting it wrong.  Progress should never come before people.  Advances and experiences mean nothing without people to share them with, and they definitely aren't worth devaluing others for. 

I have to remind myself that the fast-food workers hear my loud sigh when I wait for my order.  They can see me roll my eyes.  Shouldn't I use that time to engage those around me in meaningful conversation?  Or at the very least not be so passive aggressive?  And is a seamless ordering experience really worth it if I pick my number, swipe my card and get my food without ever even having to make eye contact?  Is that something that would make that equal human feel valued?

I get it. We wouldn't accomplish as much if we didn't pack as much into our day.  Checking e-mail while standing in line is great multi-tasking.  Fast service is a prerequisite for a busy life.  We can't just all hang out all day, every day. 

But I wonder if we've taken "efficiency" too far?  Or if we've inadvertently swapped relationships with amazing, wonderful people for amazing, wonderful products?  Has achieving modern convenience resulted in modern struggle?

How many problems would be solved if every single one of us was valued and embraced and honored with time by the whole community?  To do that would take sacrifice, but wouldn't it be worth it?

Or the real question: Isn't each person worth it?

...because the world of men and money and power hums along quite nicely on the fuel of fear and contempt and frustration and craving and the worship of self.  Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom.  The freedom to be lords of our own tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation.  This kind of freedom has much to recommend it.  But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talked about in the great outside world of winning and achieving and displaying.  The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able to truly care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty unsexy ways, every day.  That is real freedom.  The alternative is unconsciousness, the default-setting, the "rat race" -- the constant gnawing sense of having had and lost some infinite thing.

-David Foster Wallace, This is Water: 2005 Commencement speech at Kenyon College

On Empathy

Consider this a call to pause and think about fellow human beings.  Really examine them deeply.

No assuming. No judging. 

No problem-solving or policy-making.

No looking at their world through your eyes.

Just get to know them.  Really know them.  Because they are worth knowing and understanding and loving.

I believe every human being is ineffably sacred in God's sight.  This implies a moral responsibility on my part to do my very best to treat them accordingly.  If God loves each person, followers of God's way must love each person too.  This is a mystical vision.  It is a mountaintop perspective.  It is very hard to sustain it, especially in the vicious street fights of politics.
-David Gushee, Sacred Conversations (please read the entire linked essay)

The gospel is powerful medicine, but ultimately it is not administered by volumes or votes or verdicts.  It is administered by a single trembling hand holding up a spoon before the willing face of another.

-Thomas Schmidt, Straight and Narrow: Compassion and Clarity in the Homosexuality Debate

 

 

I can't understand why people don't see me for all that's me... not just some trifling girl with a baby. I'm more than that, you know?

-Arlette, quoted in Don't Call Us Out of Name: The Untold Lives of Women and Girls in Poor America (p. 22)

One level is be nice, just be polite. Another level is to admit that there may be something you don't know. And then a third level, and this is the hardest, try to put yourself in the other person's shoes. Try to actually see the world empathetically the way that the other person is seeing it. Sincerely make that effort.
-David Blankenhorn, On Being, Civil Conversations Project

 

 

Act 177: Politics aside, love first.

-Plain Jane Activism

 

 

Lately, I have been ending speeches by saying, 'The two most radical things you can do in America are to slow down and to talk to each other.'  If you do these things, you will improve our country.

-Mary Pipher, Writing to Change the World

 

 

The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day. 

 -David Foster Wallace, 2005 Commencement Speech at Kenyon College

 

Effective Communication

There are a few moments from behind the glass that stop me dead in my tracks -- times during an interview when a wise voice creates a new opportunity to hear something differently.  To challenge a conceit.  To envelop the listener in the womb of silent storytelling and place one in a position of listening profundity.
-Trent Gilliss, On Being Senior Editor

Make no mistake.  Words have power, deep and difficult to comprehend.  You have the ability to change the world with every sentence you create.

Especially in today's world where we have been blessed (and cursed) with our own individual bullhorns (commonly referred to as the Internet).

With the loud chaos of each of us shouting from our bullhorns, it's hard to remember -- or to even recognize in the first place -- that anyone is actually listening.  But they are.  And more closely than you think.

That is why I ended my first post on respectful communication with the suggestion that you thoughtfully craft your message with your end goal in mind.

I have seen some very educated and passionate people share their knowledge and beliefs in such a way that increasingly widens the gulf separating them from those who see things differently.

I believe they might come closer to achieving their goals if they instead communicated in a way that built bridges to their opposition.

We would do well to recognize that educated, informed, open people may hold views that differ from our own.  And we should never attack or judge a person verbally (or otherwise) based on his opinion or belief.  Nor speculate on someone's motives or intentions.  Sometimes in the process of criticizing a viewpoint we wrongly criticize those who hold it -- saying the person is sinister or deceptive or dense.

I can't emphasize this enough.  There are people in every political party and in every major religion who are sincere, thoughtful, studious and compassionate.  There is no one group or sect of people who have the market cornered on that.

We have a great opportunity to create and control a dialogue with the world around us, but we must be mindful of the mediums we use and the words we choose.

We hold the power to persuade, to advocate, to move our world forward with our communication.  But all too often we are thoughtless.  Or we use sensationalized, polarizing language to our own detriment.

If we truly wish to build consensus or solve problems, we would do well to refrain from words that we know are hurtful or offensive to those who disagree with us.  Doing so is not 'sugar-coating' and does not make us weak.  Doing so is simply respectful, polite and adds strength and credibility to our message.  To make significant progress we must reach the other side with our words and that can't be done if they feel attacked or fundamentally misunderstood.

This is true of any disagreement -- in politics, religion, business, marriage, family or friendship.

I am offering these suggestions as someone who has tried it both ways.  I have wielded words as weapons and have some irreparably damaged relationships to show for it.  I unapologetically told it like it was, called people out and put them in their place.  I was right and they were wrong.  I was justified.  And I only accomplished deeply hurt feelings.  Nothing more.

In more recent years, I have given words -- and the people I share them with -- much more reverence and respect, recognizing the power to either build up or tear down.  The results have been amazing.  I have cultivated meaningful relationships with a diverse group of people whose beliefs range from one far extreme to the other. 

They have showed me many flaws in my own thinking, for which I am grateful.  And sometimes I've even changed their minds on a thing or two.

Persuading someone to believe something you are passionate about is profoundly rewarding.  As is realizing a truth that is new to you.  Words give us all that ability, if we choose to use them that way.

Communication can be surprisingly effective, if not always easy.  I am most definitely still learning, but will share a few things that have helped me in my journey to find the most powerful, compelling words:

Think about your intended (and possibly unintended) audience.  How will they react?  How will your words make them feel and why?  What would make them feel listened to, understood, respected? 

Get to know your audience.  The best way to reach people who disagree with you is to get to know them.  Don't listen to what others say about them, find out for yourself who they are and why they feel the way they do.  You may realize that you weren't even addressing the concerns they have with your differing belief. 

I have also found that something else happens when you get to know your audience as real people beyond your disagreement.  You begin to feel compassion for them, making it easier to genuinely respect them.

Listen to the experts.  Plenty of people have devoted their lives to studying effective communication.  Thankfully for us, they use the knowledge they gain to effectively communicate with us about how to effectively communicate.  If you are looking for concrete, practical ways to communicate with people you disagree with, I would suggest you start by reading Getting to Yes: Negotiating Agreement Without Giving In by Roger Fisher and William Ury.

What tips do you have for effective, respectful communication? 

Respectful Communication, Part One (of many more parts)

The day of the soft answer has apparently passed into twilight.
-Jen Wilkin, blogger




The seeds for this blog were planted nearly a year ago as I became increasingly discouraged at the ways in which people were choosing to communicate. 

From my limited view, people seem to be getting more and more comfortable using harsh, sensationalized words and polarizing language.  Name-calling and crudeness are not only accepted, but sometimes even rewarded by ratings and revenues.  On social media, by likes, shares, retweets and plus-ones.

It was enough to make me seriously consider disengaging from social media (and a lot of traditional media) altogether.  It was enough to make me seriously consider my own personal and complete ban on pithy comments, sarcastic comebacks and loaded words in writing and all forms of communication.  But extremes are what I try to avoid, and brusque communication has its place.

So I continue to follow and engage, but also sometimes silently cringe.

I don't feel credible and I don't feel capable of changing things.

Still, I feel a need to ask people to be nicer to one another.  On and off line.  In actions, words and writing.  I've spent the last several months studying this, thinking about this and working up the courage to ask: 'How about not calling someone a derogatory name when explaining why you disagree with him?'

Well, there's more to it than that.  A lot more.  But I do think that would be a great start.

A social media study that made headlines last week said nearly 80 percent of the respondents reported increased rudeness by their online friends.

I didn't respond, but I would have been in the 80 percent.

I understand that there are some complex issues facing our nation and our planet.  And consequential topics deserve passionate debate.  But I think a lot more could be accomplished in the end if we change the way we talk about things.

I hope you'll stick with me through a series of posts on my own thoughts about respectful (and effective) communication, but if you choose to do nothing else, then please at least try to cut down on the name-calling, put-downs and crudeness.

Here are a few suggestions:

If you must use words like 'dumb' or 'stupid' then use them as sparingly as possible.  'Retard' really isn't acceptable at all.  Before you conclude I'm being too sensitive about this please read the editorial that helped convince me.  If you still think it's okay, then we'll just disagree. (Respectfully, of course.)

Please refrain from referring to people as animals.  Even if you think some of their actions are similar to certain animals' behaviors, or they weigh a similar amount, or their name is very close to the sound an animal makes, you'll sound more credible (and less crass) if you do not communicate that observation.

Don't support disrespectful communication.  If someone makes a good point that you whole-heartedly agree with but does so in a disrespectful manner (even if you feel like the person being disrespected deserves it), then try to find someone who has better articulated the message and share or support that one.  I have read many articles, blogs and editorials that are hard-hitting, persuasive and polite.  If you do share or support rude communication because of the value of the underlying message, then I suggest that you at least add a disclaimer against the crudeness.
 
Use harsh language cautiously.  I agree it is sometimes needed and called for.  But it is being grossly misused and overused these days.  Choose words with your end goal in mind.  Usually softer words will yield a better effect.