Not Losing the Race

In the past week I had an thoughtful email dialog with a woman I'd never met before who came across something I'd written for the Diversity issue (summer 2012) of Communities magazine. The article was about the dynamics of racism in groups and she was moved to share her thoughts. As the topic is important and her comments were insightful, I'm using our dialog as the substance of today's blog.

She wrote:
I was just reading your article online, The Paralysis of Racism in Social Change Groups. I thought it was a great article, showing much more awareness about the minority person's point of view than I see in general from non-minorities. I'm African-American.

I wanted to make a comment, because I had such a strong reaction when I read this part of your article:

• If possible, try to acknowledge that for the minority person the dynamic feels like racism—something they’ve undoubtedly become sensitized to. Even better, try to acknowledge how awful this must feel. Try to connect with them emotionally, even if you don’t think you’re doing that bad thing. Note: I’m not pretending this is easy (authentically acknowledging someone else’s hurt when you feel wrongly accused); yet this can be especially effective at diffusing tension if you can do it.
 
Speaking only for myself, trying to connect with me emotionally would not be especially effective at diffusing tension in me. It would make me angrier. In this context, trying to connect with me emotionally, or acknowledging that what's happening feels like racism to me, would feel like a condescending pat on the head. I would prefer just this approach that you suggested:

• If you can manage it without a charge (coming from a place of curiosity rather than defiance), ask the minority person why they thought that racism was occurring (essentially, “What indicates to you that you’re being responded to differently by virtue of race?”).

Then I could state my case, what I'm perceiving, and we could go from there.

I was on your page, because I'm in process of forming a small urban shared home in the coming year. I know that good communication processes are going to be critical in the success of the house, so I'm getting as much information as I can about communication processes in the context of intentional communities. I'm a communication coach myself, so I hope to be a positive force in fostering good communication in the group.

I replied:
I'm glad to hear you found my article constructive. To be clear, I'm not an expert of race. Rather I'm a group dynamics expert, and much of my work is about how to understand and bridge differences without running anyone over. Much of that work (which applies equally well to racism, I think) entails getting out of one's perspective and seeing the world through the eyes of the person with whom you disagree.
 
Let me lay out my thinking about why I advocate trying to connect emotionally and see how it works for you.

In working constructively with dynamics, it makes a big difference if nontrivial emotional distress is part of the picture. Sometimes it is; sometime it isn't. By "nontrivial" I mean that it's great enough that there's significant distortion going on. The point being that a person's ability to hear accurately what's being said is compromised by their distress. People vary a good deal with respect to how much distress pushes them over the line, but everyone has a line. It's neither a good thing or bad thing; it just is, and groups are well advised to learn how to understand and work with that moment.

Overwhelmingly, my experience has taught me that if someone is in significant distress, you must attend to that first before discussing content. In many cases simply acknowledging it is enough to deescalate the moment to where the remaining distortion is tolerable. In some cases though, it takes much more. While I've developed a protocol for working that moment (when acknowledgment is not enough), I'll leave that aside for now. The main point I'm trying to make is that attempting to bypass nontrivial distress does not work. To be sure, many groups nonetheless try to do that (mainly because they have no confidence in being able to navigate distress accurately or constructively), yet I have rarely seen this work well and leads to brittle agreements.

Having said all that, I get it that you believe not addressing the distress would work better for you. While I question whether that's really true (providing the distress is significant enough--and I imagine where you feel racism has entered the picture that the distress would probably be nontrivial), I wonder if your conclusion is based more on the ham-handed ways that people (whites?) have tried to reach out to you emotionally and your lack of personal experience with that working well, rather than on a preference for keeping emotional distance.

I fully acknowledge that forced or insincere attempts to reach you emotionally are not going to work well, and will probably escalate the tension. Further, it is not a simple skill to learn how to do well. Despite that, I advocate for this approach because it's worked so well for me in 25 years as a process consultant. In fact, I don't think it's possible to build vibrant communities without doing emotional work.

She continued with:
You're right about this:

"I wonder if your conclusion is based more on the ham-handed ways that people (whites?) have tried to reach out to you emotionally and your lack of personal experience with that working well, rather than on a preference for keeping emotional distance."

It seems to me the key element is trust. I would only be angry to begin with if I thought there could be racists in the group.

I'm sure trust is the issue, because recently, a good friend of mine (non-black) said something to me that was highly insensitive to blacks. On a scale of 1-10, it felt like a 9.95 to me (only because nothing is a perfect 10). It hurt me deeply, and I was upset about it for two weeks. It's had a lasting effect on me, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that my friend had zero intention of even bothering me. My friend was actually surprised that I was upset at all. This person may never "get it," and I'm okay with that reality, because I know this person well, and I know their intention is to be a kind and accepting person.

So, I agree that (if trust is there) it makes sense to deal with the emotions first.

Getting to the place of trust is the thing. I see how critical it is to choose members carefully and to establish these processes for handling emotions and decision-making.

I responded:
Trust is a chicken-and-egg dynamic. On the one hand you need trust to more readily see good intent and be less triggered. On the other, being seen accurately helps build trust. The heavy lifting here, in my view, is learning how to get good results (in this case, an authentic bridge to someone's emotional experience) when trust is damaged, or otherwise weak. Often, that's where skilled facilitation (or skilled group members who are sensitive to the need) can play a major role. It's damn hard to trust someone who has just done a grossly insensitive thing. Often, the exact same words—even said with the same tone and body language—will land differently if they come from someone other than the person who was the trigger.

I also want to make a comment about membership selection. While I am definitely supportive of being deliberate about it (especially with regard to social skills), no amount of screening will eliminate awkwardness or tension all together. Don't make the mistake of equating the volume of conflict with the health of the group. The test is not how much conflict you have, it's how you handle it.

She followed with: 
I'm not sure I agree with what you said about trust. I wouldn't trust someone just because they understand me and see my side clearly. They still may not have good intent. Any time I think I have good reason to believe a person doesn't have good intent, I will proceed with caution. If I have no specific reason to be cautious, if I'm neutral or I definitely trust them, then I'm quite open, as I am with you.

That would indeed be a heavy lift with me. If I think a person doesn't have good intentions toward me (regarding any type of issue), my emotional response to them isn't going to change unless that source of dishonorable intention is somehow removed. Maybe there's a misunderstanding on my part. Maybe they change their point of view—unless you're talking about learning to love someone who's working against you or who truly dislikes you. To me, that's a separate thing. Also, I could learn to work with anybody within a structure, like established rules in an intentional community, the same way I work at my job with someone I don't have a lot of rapport with (we just don't seem to like each other). 

I'd be able to cooperate with the person I'm upset with, but a facilitator or group member probably wouldn't be able to change my emotions.

Are you really talking about trying to alleviate my upset? To make me "not feel bad" about an upsetting incident? Maybe I'm unclear on the goal of the facilitation.

My reply:Often, though by no means always, bad intent is projected onto someone because that's the thing that allows you to make sense of what they've said or done. Overwhelmingly, my experience of working with groups in conflict has taught me that it's generally possible to uncover a plausible, innocent explanation (rather than that they're out to get you or believe you're inferior) if we take the time to unpack the dynamic and understand it from each player's perspective. (To be clear, I'm not saying the person did a smart thing; only that they didn't intend a mean thing.)

With that in mind, when I facilitate conflict I ask participants to suspend judgment to allow me the chance to explore perspective. If part of that exploration includes reaching out and holding each party accurately in both the their energy and their viewpoint, I can often get enough flexibility that people are willing to change their feelings and let go of the story that the other person acted from bad intent. This is huge.

To be clear, the facilitator only invites people to change their feelings (by which I mean anger toward the person, rather than upset with their action); there is no arm twisting. If it doesn't happen willingly, then it doesn't count. 

• • •

I just love it when people are curious about why things fall apart and what they can do to put Humpty Dumpty back together again—where no one has to be the bad guy or labeled an asshole. It gives me hope.

Living with People Who Don't Like You

One of the fears people have about living in intentional community is that there might be people in the group who don't like you, and vice versa. Well, you can relax. If you live in community for any length of time, you can pretty well be assured that this nightmare will come true. I've lived in community for 36 years and it's happened to me multiple times.

While it's no fun, and tends to suck the air out of your balloons, it's only partially in your control and is likely something you'll have to figure out how to live with if you're going to continue to call community home. This dynamic is hard to accept. Especially when you reflect on how no one's dream of community living includes this reality. When you start or join a community you are purposefully screening members for alignment with core values, and your natural expectation is that this will lead to a life that is more integrated and harmonious. It can be a rude awakening to discover that a solid value match does not necessarily say anything about whether people will like each other.

There are a wide variety of ways the bloom can come off the rose. Here are some:—different communication styles
—different sense of what integrity means
—different comfort level relative to rules and structure
—different relationship to risk
—different relationship to authority and power
—different parenting styles

Never mind differences in humor, diet, attitudes about pets, or what constitutes pleasurable dinner table conversation. At what point do differences shift from being refreshing to irritating? At what point does living with diversity translate into living with folks who are so different that it's hard to understand their choices? Where does acceptance get eroded to the point of mistrust? These are bread and butter challenges to community living—and you better believe that it will occasionally get personal.
Partly it's a numbers game. Having someone dislike you in a group of 50 (where you never have to sit at the same table) is altogether different from having someone dislike you in a group of five (where there's no place to hide). Partly it's a matter of how much you are in each other's lives. In a cohousing community you may not see each other for a month; in an income-sharing community like mine (Sandhill Farm), there are chances to rub up against each other's sore spots every day.

In its milder forms, it may be possible to navigate tense dynamics simply by giving each other a wide berth. You and your nemesis may be able to avoid serving on the same committee, and perhaps the dislike between you will not extend much beyond awkwardness.

Sometimes though, things devolve into outright hostility, where one person sees the other as bad for the community and capable of mendacity and manipulation. Communication between the two individuals is highly strained and tension can settle like a pall over the whole group. In the extreme, it can take on the dimensions of a holy war.

Playing the Hand You're Dealt
So what can you do if you find yourself in this dynamic, when it hurts like hell and there's no immediate prospect that it will get better? The good news is that you have options. Keeping in mind throughout that there is always the option to exit—and I'm not judging anyone for making that choice—I want to concentrate here on what you can do if you stay.

1. In all likelihood, the other person has an unflattering story about you—a story that is substantially different from the one you have about yourself. You can start by resisting the temptation to develop a reciprocal negative story about them. Tit for tat more often leads to pieces than peace.

2. While no one is asking you to enjoy being disliked (or having a negative spin consistently placed on your actions), you have choices about how you respond when acid is being dripped onto your head and your reputation. If someone is upset with you, you can learn to be curious about how they got there (instead of outraged). If anger wells up in you, it is not a moral imperative that you erupt (you can reflect on what to do with your feelings, rather than blurting them out in the moment).

3. Try to steer clear of offering an analysis of why the other person dislikes you. Uninvited psychoanalysis is seldom viewed as an olive branch.

4. Avoid asking other members of the group to take sides. In a mud wrestling match, everyone gets dirty.

5. Look for opportunities to genuinely appreciate the other person, which will help in two directions: a) these acknowledgments will offer the other person a chance to soften their negative story about you (Note: I'm not guaranteeing that this will happen; I'm only talking about possibilities—at the end of the day, regardless of how unfair or distorted you may think it is, what the other person thinks and feels is outside your control); and b) it will help you to see the other person as more complex, by reminding you of their good qualities; it will help you develop compassion for their struggle to see you in a good light.

None of this is easy. Outrage and moral indignation are tempting and readily available responses when you feel that others are consistently critical of your actions and questioning your motivations. But you still have other choices, and I'm trying—from a place that's deeply informed by the personal pain of this experience—to make the case that we'll all be better served if we can find the courage to walk away from the fight once it's clear that no constructive exchange is possible. I'm not talking about selling out, and I'm not talking about giving up. I'm talking about going inward and finding the will to respond from love and caring about the group.

As an alternative to hardening your heart or armoring yourself against the upsets reported by those who dislike you, cultivate the ability to let their criticism wash over you. Look carefully at what might be true, and concentrate more on how they are struggling than on how you are. One of the gravest dangers in this dynamic is indulging in self pity and becoming addicted to the anger.

From ages 17 to 33 I was locked into anger with my father, and my community living experience helped me to finally see my unwitting part in perpetuating this debilitating dynamic—after 16 years of blaming my father for everything that didn't work well in our relationship. Though it was decades ago that I successfully broke that vicious circle, my community living experience continues to give me the opportunity to learn more subtle lessons in getting unhooked from the hypodermic needle of anger and outrage. From time to time I've succumbed to embattled dynamics with people other than my father, and I get to go through it again. The hardest of all is when this battle is at home.

While withdrawal can be a bitch, it's way better than the alternative.