Message Received (The Color and Texture of Your Words, Part 2)

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To speak up with impact, get quiet first.

In the last blog post, The Color and Texture of Your Words, I offered three questions to foster greater intentionality about whether and how to say something in daily speech:

  1. Is it true?

  2. Is it beneficial?

  3. Does it forge connection?

You might believe that these same questions do not apply when advocacy is called for, but after much consideration, I do. Though I generally subscribe to the belief that fewer, kinder words are better, I am also a staunch encourager of raising one's voice. Speaking up is one of the most important ways we change the world in intimate relationships, friendships, business settings, and sociopolitical contexts.

For our voices to have lasting impact, they need to be heard, and for our voices to be heard, we need practice with effective communication. It doesn't just "happen" because we are a species that uses words to communicate. Effective communication is a learned set of skills, and practice is essential. Default patterns often lead us to speak in ways that impede connection. We evaluate, blame, express moralistic judgement. Or, our emotions and feelings get so big they cloud our ability to understand the needs that underlie them. Or, we feel fear, inadequacy, lack of trust—and keep our mouths shut.

So what do we do? We go down first, do our work, and then speak up. 

Recently, I found myself in a professional situation where I had something to say, but all the default patterns were "up" for me. The words in my head were critical and blaming, I was angry about dynamics of power and equity negatively impacting a group, and I was afraid of questioning someone with positional authority. It was difficult and uncomfortable. I felt unsure. 

So, I went back to the three questions, which helped, but I found I needed more. What really helped me were, "What is my intention?" and "What serves the highest benefit for all?" Through reflection, I realized that staying silent would be a disservice, and I needed to speak up. I had valuable observations to make and ideas to offer, but I had to face that I was worried about how I would be perceived; ego and fear were involved. Yet another chance to grow. 

Once it was clear I needed to speak up, I got to work on the how. I planned out my words carefully, which allowed me to shift from criticism to connection. I framed my purpose with the intention of service and justice. I started with genuine appreciation and recognition of the good. Then I named what I saw and felt, and I offered clear suggestions for what could be done differently. I did this work not knowing whether the conversation would be in person or written. As it turned out, this one went out as an email...so I hit send and exhaled deeply. 

The experience caused me to come back to the three questions and wonder about them as applied to advocacy in a business setting (which also sits in a larger sociopolitical context.) I identified "questions beneath the questions" that were helpful to me: 

  1. Is it true?

    • Do I have experience and wisdom to offer?

    • Do I hold a perspective different from someone else?

    • Might my words help reveal a blind spot and shed light on something important?

  2. Is it beneficial?

    • Do my words have the potential to serve a higher good?

    • Do I have actionable suggestions to offer?

  3. Does it forge connection?

    • Do I have an intention of service?

    • Am I thinking about justice, a larger "we?"

In this particular case, powerfully honest conversation ensued that will have lasting impact, within the relationship and also beyond, with opportunity for a sizeable ripple effect. I'm so glad I took the time to feel my emotions and then use reflective questions to sort things out. Without this practice, I'm pretty sure I would have remained silent or killed the opportunity for my message to be received in other ways.

There won't always be happy endings, I know. And the message will not always be received. But as a changemaker, I choose to keep practicing and listen to the encouragement of Audre Lorde:

"And the speaking will get easier and easier. And you will find you have discovered your own vision, which you may never have realized you had. And at last you’ll know with surpassing certainty that only one thing is more frightening than speaking your truth. And that is not speaking.”