The Fine Art of Speaking Up

I'm a middle-of-the-road person, inclined towards a live & let live philosophy. Much of the reason for this is because getting whipped up about things takes energy, and I'd rather spend energy doing something like making music or planting roses. Even when engaged in things that I hope will make the world a better place to live, I've habitually gravitated towards feel-good activities.

I've noticed that many middle-roaders share certain characteristics. Temperamentally we're moderate, even laid-back. We distrust drama and may be adverse to conflict even when it's justified. Given the choice between spending a sunny Saturday afternoon agitating for anything, even something we deeply believe in, and sitting in the garden catching up on news with our neighbors, we prefer the latter. I have to confess that I find firecracker personalities both fascinating and puzzling; where do they get all that snap, crackle & pop?

Sometimes live & let live works, especially when a problem is small enough to let it pass. Sometimes, though, a failure to speak up is a cop-out Choosing to do the right thing might cause momentary discomfort. I had one of those moments not long ago when someone I was with made a mean-spirited comment about the people from a certain country. He tossed off the comment in an almost innocent manner; I had the impression that he simply assumed I agreed with him.

What to do? Someone who relishes heated debate (I have friends and family who do) would jump into the ring with fists swinging. I'm not one of those people. But this guy's remark was offensive and untrue. If I let it pass, he'd get the message that it was OK.

I decided to approach it the same way I would with kids. In a neutral tone I said something like "Oh, I know some people from (country). They don't seem like that at all." Then I reminded him of the task at hand, and we slid back into work mode. Since then he hasn't made any more such remarks when we work together. I don't believe for a moment that his opinion of this group of people has changed, but at least he knows that I won't go along with the stereotyping

More than that, he's aware that someone he actually likes and respects, at least on a professional level, doesn't see eye to eye with him This was a remarkable discovery when I made it for myself years ago - I can thoroughly disagree with someone in the political and religious arena but still feel great affection for him or her It's an opportunity that those who only hang with their "own kind" never get to experience.

Sometimes in order to grow, we need to do uncomfortable work. I find that during high-growth times, life often presents me with certain recurring situations, thereby giving me plenty of opportunity to practice the skills needed during the next phase of life. During this past year, the recurring theme has been Speaking Up.

I've learned a few things during the process of practicing disagreement without being disagreeable:

• The key to busting stereotypes is to see people as individuals, not merely as components of a group. Read the comment threads on news websites and you'll see some scary examples of how "-ists" and "-ism" language is used to nurture divisions and fear. I call it "Otherizing." Once someone becomes a part of The Other, it's easy to justify villifying him. We are all much more than a sum of our beliefs and associations.
• People say and do things because it makes sense to them at the time. I have to remind myself of this constantly. No matter how outrageous the belief seems to me, the person expressing it thinks it's true.
  
• A simple statement delivered in a matter-of-fact, drama-free manner can be surprisingly effective. So can referring to personal experience. Last week when a member of a group I'm in made a negative comment about a certain profession, I told her "I know someone who used to be a (job title) and he's a great guy. You'd like him." It put a human face on a divisive issue.
• When all else fails, I use a tactic that my husband and I taught our son: agree to disagree. I think of it as A2D. Simply saying, "We'll have to agree to disagree on that one" gets the message across perfectly. It tells the debater that you don't agree with him but you're not going to fight about it. On the rare occasion that a debate is truly an exchange of ideas, I don't mind sharing and listening. but in my experience, it's more often about power. If I refuse to enter the ring, there's no fight.
  
  Sometimes - on rare occasions - the person with whom I'm dealing isn't interested in seeing me or anyone else as a person, and simply wants to slug away. If the issue is important, I'll accept the challenge, although not without a feeling of annoyance. But I'm finding that most people I encounter don't go that far. Once most of us can see the Other as a human being with a face, a name, a family, hopes and dreams, it's awfully hard to deliver the first punch.

Hanging Over the Cliff

"As soon as there is life, there is danger." Ralph Waldo Emerson

One of my most vivid memories as a parent is of the day that a visibly shaken stranger knocked on the front door, and when I answered, told me that she'd almost hit our younger son as he crossed the street. "Within inches," she said.

After thanking her for telling me and giving my son an earful, I sat down and thought about what had just happened. My mind spun an entire story: the ambulance, a long hospital stay (if he lived!), endless therapy...the mental movie went on.

What can any of us do when we're faced with the realization that we've just escaped a brush with death, or with the end of life as we know it? We can prepare for every contingency under the sun but we never totally escape the possibility of finding ourselves hanging over the cliff for a few breathless minutes.

Since that afternoon there have been other close calls: the time our older boy went swimming in the river with friends, in an isolated location with strong currents; the school swimming class where an aggressive classmate held our younger boy's head under water; chase scenes on bikes in the middle of the street; midnight walks home when the cell phone died; my husband's close encounter with a falling boulder while climbing...when I consider these incidents and then think about some of my own youthful experiences, I marvel that we're all alive today.

Young people think they're invincible but in the course of normal development, most adults realize by age 25 or so that this is an illusion. If nothing else, our daily news sources remind us that some people don't survive close calls.

Because I have a number of family members whose work required frequent flying, a spouse who climbs mountains, a son who talks about joining the Marines and a lot of friends who bike & walk city streets at all hours, I think about danger and its possible outcomes frequently. I've never found a way to be comfortable with it.

There are no guarantees. But then, that's part of being a parent, spouse or friend.

With kids we can take reasonable precautions.There's a reason why car seats and bike helmets for kids are mandatory; statistically they're proven life-savers.

But there's a down side to all the precautions. When I was a staff assistant in the schools, I was sometimes dismayed at the number of playground activities that were forbidden simply because something might happen. No playing in the piles of autumn leaves - someone might get dust in his eye. No frisbee tossing - someone might get hit. Rain = indoor recess. And so on. When I think about my own free-range childhood, I don't envy kids now. They don't have access to the same opportunities to explore, grow and discover that my friends and I did.

Could this hypercaution be partly responsible for the "failure to launch" phenomenon? What's more detrimental to young lives, a greater chance of danger or greater chance of staying stuck? What would I have done 30 years ago if I were confronted with the same built-in boundaries that the average middle class 16-21 year old faces today? Go crazy?

What am I going to do if my 19-year old son enlists, especially during a time that we as a country seem to be embroiled in every conflict on the planet, whether we can afford it or not? Can I blame him for wanting to challenge himself, just as I did at his age?

People need to grow, especially as they mature into adulthood, and that means taking chances. With every risk there's the possibility of failure. For some choices such as college, this only means that the risk-taker will need to retake the class if he fails the first time. For other choices, such as enlisting in the military, it could mean not living long enough to use the rewards that comes after the tour of duty.

What do we do when the roads that lead to growth for loved ones are the same roads that might take them away from us?

I'm reaching the conclusion (a work in progress) that the only possible response to the resultant uncertainty is to really be with people when we're with them, and entrust them to whatever benevolent power we might believe in when they leave. There isn't any other way. As much as I'd like to believe in happy endings, I haven't received any hand-delivered evidence that things "work out" if we have faith or good intentions, or if we work hard enough. No matter how good we are or how well we manage our lives, there are no guarantees.

However, we do have the moments that our loved ones are with us. Those moments are the ones we need to seize. As the saying goes, Be Here Now.