Why Don’t We Talk?

In our Good Collaborations workshops we find that demonstrations, case studies and roleplays are some of the best ways of helping get out of theory and into real-life complexities in ways that feel relevant and useful. One of the related techniques we sometimes play with is learning from past incidents - identifying a situation from the past that still troubles us in some way and then working internally to unpack what learning may be offered from what happened.

It’s not about defending what we did, beating ourselves up, or blaming others, and it’s not a substitute for grieving or getting psychological support. It’s about learning, really looking at what was happening and what led us to act or say whatever we did, and how those personal realities may (or may not) reflect who we want to be in the world.

In that spirit, I (Debbie) want to share an example. I was in a state campground awhile back, where a group of young men ran their generator into the night, more than seven hours past the posted hours when such things are permitted. That’s the context for this post, but the focus for me in bringing this up is what I didn’t do … TALK with anyone about it.

What do we do when the very tools and skills we would turn to to work through differences, or to co-create new solutions to mutual problems, don’t show up in our tool kit in a given moment? Why do many of us experience such resistance sometimes to initiating talking? For me, this is my job, my vocation, I’ve got skills and knowledge, and I certainly talk with a lot of folks about other things.

So why didn’t I talk in that circumstance, and more generally, what gets in the way of people talking with each other? Reflections on my experience and some trips into the research world suggest some of these factors may affect our willingness to talk:

●      Fear – No, I wasn’t quaking in my boots or literally fearing for my safety (that would have been a good reason to attend to needs other than connecting). And no, I’m not ignoring the gender-related unease associated with the situation, or the general anxiety that is affecting so many of us as a result of such severe cultural divides and the few examples of individuals taking violent actions to address perceived hurts or threats. But in this case, fear arose in part from my own prejudices and stories about this group of young men. In Crucial Learning research, “Those who tended to tell more extreme stories about their conversational counterparts were more than three times more likely to feel fearful and 3.5 times more likely to lack confidence in speaking their minds.” (Check out https://cruciallearning.com/press/unafraidstudy/)

●      Social awkwardness – Let’s face it, some of us have fallen out of practice of interacting in person. And our virtual world, and especially social media, invite one-sided posts or passive reactions, not real engagement, and create fear (see above) that anything we say may attract very unwanted attention or worse consequences. We’ve de-personalized our self-expression and live in a world where in-person interactional skills are more limited, and we’re all affected by the cultural shift.

●      Vulnerability – Nobody likes the idea of broaching a topic for discussion or starting a conversation, and having that offer refused and potentially even ridiculed. Contempt or ridicule can in turn trigger all kinds of past and even historical traumas around whether who we are is “OK,” whether our way of being is socially acceptable, or whether it could ever be worth speaking up when the outcomes seem pre-defined (as noted above, prejudices or stereotypes can really turn up the heat with this … ““they” always respond like that.”) To make ourselves that vulnerable to hurt, there have to be some pretty positive things weighing on the other side of the equation.

●      Shame – OK, gotta admit here that before the generator started, I walked right by this group without extending what feels like the common courtesy of a greeting or acknowledgment of their presence, even though I’d cheerfully engaged with others previously hanging out in the same spot. Our own sense of not acting based on our best selves, of having contributed to creating a less pleasant interaction, can create shame and feed future reluctance to engage.

●      “Respect, empowerment” – May look funny to have this on the list, but my own reactions to the noise made me re-think my cultural assumptions about campgrounds. I’ve lived in other places where “quiet” wouldn’t be highly valued in such settings, and the hours assumed for social engagement would have been really off those posted here … so, really, why should I support rules that don’t work culturally for some people, that constrain their power or ability to do something? And even the idea of rules governing behavior is culturally defined to at least some degree, so why should I act on my own discomfort because others don’t see the rules as reflecting their “normal.” (Yes, I know this approach can be a slippery slope, and is worth more exploration … saving that for another day!)

●      Reactance – No, I didn’t associate that word with this situation initially, but I loved a recent Hidden Brain segment (https://hiddenbrain.org/podcast/youre-not-the-boss-of-me/) on this idea that people resist and in fact may do the opposite of what they feel pressured to do, as a means of regaining their sense of autonomy or freedom. I didn’t have that framing for it, but previous experience tells me that “should”-ing and wagging-a-finger admonishments don’t work and in fact may make an unpleasant situation worse. So, a focus on preventing potential opposition may over-rule potential positive results of engagement!

●      Language and culture – Definitely making some assumptions here which I did not check out, but my guess is that class culture was at least a part of the differences I was tuning into in this situation. Class cultures influence what we talk about, how we talk about it, and how we initiate a conversation – and for me, I know that how I was raised didn’t prepare me to feel very confident with managing conversation well by working class male norms. I’ve worked on that a lot … and it still arises as a challenge sometimes. Check out more on this topic (near and dear to my heart, as my entryway into social justice worlds): https://behavioralscientist.org/understanding-social-class-as-culture/

●      More – so many other possible variables here, including whether the timing or venue are wrong, the right folks can’t participate, people need more prep time, the topic doesn’t seem relevant or the language and cultural expectations related to the conversation itself feel “off.” We’re sure you can fill in the blank with many other possibilities!

Even a cursory review of that list suggested some areas of personal work that might help me feel more confident and willing to at least consider an alternate approach next time around. And not just for myself (avoidance is a familiar guest I grapple with), but also in terms of my work in the world, the things I advocate for socially and structurally.

Not everyone would have reacted that way (and some of us have a parallel problem of stopping talking!), and even those who did might draw different lessons from the experience. Plus, there’s no need to make a big deal about one tiny incident. But as regular readers have guessed, Susan and I are big fans of reflecting on past events as ways of learning how to do things differently in the future. My own discomfort was a cue that that tiny incident was worth mining for new insights, inspired in part by Susan’s “Talk Matters” blog.

May your own reflections bring you fresh perspectives, space and change in the tight areas that most need it in your worlds!