Today's Reading
I wanted to believe that his assumption about me stemmed from unconscious bias. Not a federal offense. Most of us have made an incorrect assumption about another person's role based on some personal attribute. These moments are as embarrassing as they are common. It was a classic "Sorry, I don't work here" moment.
There was very little risk to me in challenging his assumptions. I was established in my career, and he couldn't harm me in any real way. Why didn't I say anything?
If I explained, "I need to prepare for my talk right now, so I can't help you out," there was some chance he might reply along the lines of, "Oh. You must be the Radical Candor lady. I don't believe in that soft, feminine leadership bullshit." Unlikely. But I've experienced that kind of prejudice, more than once. If my attempt at a courteous response prompted him to reveal a conscious prejudice against women, it would piss me off, and that would make it harder for me to focus on my talk.
Then, there was another possibility: bullying. What if I corrected him and he escalated, saying something like, "Hey, lady, no need to get your panties all in a wad"? Again, unlikely, but—alas—not impossible. Such things have been said to me, also more than once. Then I'd go onstage roiling mad. That would knock off my game.
There was another confounding factor here beyond gender: power. The man assumed he had a right to be rude to the people staffing the event. Perhaps when he realized I was a speaker, not a staffer, he would snap into polite mode. But talking to anyone the way he'd talked to me was not okay. And it was my job as a leader to remind him of this, to prevent him from treating the staff badly.
But I didn't feel like a leader. I felt like a target. All this felt like too much for me to deal with in the moments before I walked onstage. So I said nothing, and the man stomped off, evidently wondering why I was refusing to do my job, muttering something about complaining to the event organizers about the unhelpful staff.
It was hard to know what to say because I didn't know whether it was bias, prejudice, or bullying behind his comment. Also, it was hard to know what my role was. Was I the person harmed since the comment was directed at me, the leader since I was the speaker, or an upstander for the staff? Or all three?
In retrospect, my silence was bad for everyone: bad for the staff because he was going to complain about them to their boss; bad for me because I hadn't lived in accordance with my own beliefs; and even bad for Mr. Safety Pin. By not pointing out his bias (if that's what was behind his request), I was making it likelier that he'd repeat his mistake.
The "flavor" of bias, prejudice, and bullying that I have experienced as a White woman in the workplace is obviously different from what a Black woman experiences. Indeed, the only Black woman at the conference had been secretary of state; all I'd had to do to earn my spot as a White woman was to be a director—a middle manager—at Google and Apple.
A colleague of mine who is a gay Black man and another who is a White Jewish lesbian and another who is a straight Latina executive also experience these attitudes and behaviors differently from each other, and differently from either Michelle or me. My husband, who is a straight White man, also has his own experiences with bias, prejudice, and bullying. And so on. We all have these experiences, sometimes as leaders, sometimes as upstanders, sometimes we are harmed by them, sometimes we cause harm.
My goal in pointing out the shared roots of our difficult experiences is to build solidarity between as many different people as possible.
HOW DO WE GET THESE PROBLEMS OUT OF THE WAY?
FRAMEWORKS FOR SUCCESS
To stay focused on solutions, this book will offer two frameworks. The first Radical Respect framework will help you figure out whether you are dealing with bias, prejudice, or bullying and what to do about each. The second framework, in the latter half of the book, will help you figure out what to do when power creates the conditions for discrimination, harassment, or physical violations.
Frameworks like these don't claim to fix everything; rather, they are a tool that helps us differentiate between different problems so that we can apply the right solutions.
For example, Michael Porter's Five Forces framework helps leaders identify the key strategic forces at play in their industry. The framework doesn't promise instant sustainable competitive advantage, but it can help you identify and manage the dynamics you are facing. It helps managers differentiate between pressures from competitors, new entrants, suppliers, customers, and substitute products. This seems obvious, but in the heat of the moment, it's easy to conflate different pressures from different sources or to blame everything on just one of the different problems you are facing.
Changing the attitudes and behaviors described in the toxonomy, many of which are deeply ingrained, will demand that you are patient and persistent with yourself and others. If you can extend yourself grace as you hold yourself accountable for missteps, you'll find it easier to extend grace to others when they mess up, as we are all bound to do.
The First Framework
The first Radical Respect framework will help you figure out how best to calibrate your response to bias, prejudice, or bullying, depending on which one you're dealing with.
BIAS: NOT MEANING IT
RESPOND WITH AN "I" STATEMENT
An "I" statement is a good way to respond to bias because it offers your perspective on a situation, giving the other person a new lens through which to understand what's happening.
Whether you are a leader, an observer, or the person harmed, you can use an "I" statement to help the person who said or did the biased thing to notice the mistake.
The easiest "I" statement is the simple factual correction. For example, when someone has made a false assumption about a person's role in an organization based on race or gender: "I am not the decider here, she is." Or, "I don't work here." In a case where a person has said something insensitive, saying something like, "I don't think you meant that the way it sounded to me," shows how it landed for you without attacking the other person. Or, "I don't think you'll take me seriously when you call me 'honey.'" Or, "I don't think calling her 'honey' sounds quite right." Or, "I am not sure why you think I am angry; I am not even raising my voice." Or, "I don't think they sound angry; they are not even raising their voice."
An "I" statement does not call the person out; it invites the person in to understand your perspective. Starting with the word I helps the person to consider things from your point of view—to understand why what they said or did seemed biased to you.
This excerpt ends on page 20 of the paperback edition.
Monday, December 23rd, we begin the book Human First, Leader Second: How Self-Compassion Outperforms Self-Criticism by Massimo Backus.
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