I'm Listening

I am a social worker but not the kind that you think.  Raise your hand if what you think a social worker does is take kids out of homes.  Keep 'em up if you think that's all a social worker does.  Yeah, that's what I thought.  Just today, my new boss at the community nonprofit where I work asked me why I went and got a Master's in Social Work and then chose not to become a social worker.

Boy oh boy, we all have a lot to learn.

I am a community-based social worker.  I work in advocacy, connection, policy, strategy, and more.  I am a teacher -- and I am a student.  I collaborate with residents, with elected officials, with city officials, with other organizations.  

I am a listener.

I pull this one out of the lineup and spotlight it because what I'm also is a talker.  I'm a Gemini, so that means I have the gift of gab.  I can write it or I can speak it and I am quite comfortable in the art of verbal expression.  But listen?  That's a special skill, an undervalued skill, a skill most of us only think we have.

But being a listener is maybe the most important tool in my Social Worker toolbox.

A brief story.

When I was maybe in my first month on the job, I went to a neighborhood park to meet with one of the resident leaders who helped create programming for the park and maintain the playground equipment.  The neighborhood is one of the most diverse in the city -- including a large concentration of a particular religious group that often limited their interactions outside of their community.  This particular resident leader had worked very diligently to make the playground a "neutral space" where everyone could gather -- but a recent event involving some local politics had upset the balance and the resident leader was feeling quite flustered about how to repair the connections she'd worked so hard to build.

Now, keep in mind, this was the first time I'd ever met this resident leader in person -- we had no previous relationship, outside of a few emails here or there.  But she freely shared this story with me within minutes of our conversation's start and I just listened.  By listening, I could "hear" more than simply her words.  I could tell by her body language and her tone and the kinds of details that she was sharing that this mattered a lot to her.  I could easily understand how much effort she'd put into creating this "neutral space" where things like local politics were not supposed to be discussed.  She was very clear in expressing to me that this was the "rule" of the playground and that someone running for office had violated that "rule."  She was shouldering the blame and felt responsible for not stopping this person from upsetting balance she'd created.  

When she was done sharing this story with me, I looked her in the eye, put a hand on her shoulder, and I said, "You are not responsible for anything another person does, first of all.  Second of all, I'd invite you to re-think this as a safe space instead of a neutral space.  By reframing it as a safe space, you are building in the grace that people may say or do things that could upset someone else, even by accident, which seems to be the case here -- and if it's a safe space, that gives everyone involved the chance to express how they feel so they can work to rebuild trust with each other."

I wish I could properly express how the resident leader's eyes changed when I offered this suggestion.  All I can really tell you is that I said silently to myself, thank you grad school program -- money well spent.

Because, here's the thing.  In my work as a community-based social worker there is almost no day that goes by where I don't have a conversation with someone about the key to everything: sense of belonging.  When people feel disrespected, ignored, unwanted, unseen, unheard -- when people feel backs turned towards them or cut out of the loop or that an event is only "for" certain people -- it creates social disharmony.  It creates community disconnect.  It creates harmful mistrust.  

Sense of belonging is everything.

I bet if you stop for a moment and think about your life and where it is that you feel the most nourished, the most needed, the most comfortable, it is at places and with people who you can be your authentic self with.  It's at places and with people who make space -- and hold space -- for you.  It's a places and with people who make you feel safe, that allow you to be brave, and where you can trust that who you are will be accepted, supported, and loved.

So how do we create sense of belonging?  How do we create these safe, brave, and trustworthy spaces?  

Mostly, we have to listen.  

In this diverse community where I live and work, there is a constant conversation about the equity and inclusion part of diversity, equity, and inclusion.  Diversity, we've got that.  But when it comes to equity and especially inclusion, this is where the divide persists.  We're constantly asking anyone who will stand still long enough to listen, how can we get more community representation at our event or with our organization? The truth is there is no magic wand to be waved.  People define community in different ways and want different things out of their experiences with neighbors and both time and energy might be limited.  There's an old social work axiom that says the people who show up are the people who were meant to be there -- easy as that.

But it's also true that the way an event or volunteer opportunity is publicized -- the kinds of words that are used -- the types of images -- the name of the event -- the event location -- all of these things can signal who this opportunity is for.

So that's an important Step One: look at your approach to outreach and see who you think it speaks to the loudest.  Adjust as needed.

After advertising, though, comes interaction.  I have this personal values statement that speaks pretty succinctly to this: Transparency builds trust.  Kindness is a must.  If you enter a space and aren't welcomed, it's not clear where to go or what to do, people are looking at you and not speaking to you -- you're probably not going to feel like they were hoping you'd show up.  Instead, if there's someone to greet you, to show you around, to introduce you to others who are there, to include you in what's happening -- these are the seeds-planted for sense of belonging.

You are welcome here.

So much can change through simple conversation, through curiosity about another person's life, through remembering a person's name or something they shared with you.  

So much can change if when another person is speaking, you're doing more than waiting for your chance to chime in.

Will this erase social inequity or smash the patriarchy or cure the toxicity of our Capitalist society?  Nah.  But it will create a stronger sense of belonging which will create a stronger community which will create more and more spaces for brave, civil dialogue that can lead to systemic change.

It could start out incrementally and that might feel too small.  But even a giant oak tree once started out as a tiny seed.  Every seed just needs the right amount of nurturing to allow it to grow it is fullest potential.

Too often I see people adopt this attitude I call "I'm Right And You're Stupid."  That's both defensive and condescending.  It says my experience matters more than yours.  Even if what someone is saying seems fundamentally "wrong," think of what can be gained by adopting a lens of kindness and asking with genuine curiosity for them to talk you through why they believe what they believe.  You may not end up agreeing -- but you will probably understand their perspective better.  

We could all be a little more patient.

We could all be a little more kind.

We don't know everyone's experiences or their traumas or what might be shaping their perceptions until we take the time to get to know them.  And not just get to know them to prove them wrong or shame them or ridicule them.  We're not here on this planet on a fact finding mission designed to tear others down.

We are here to learn.

We are here to love.

We are not meant to be perfect at it.

But we are meant to take ownership of our own lives, our own actions, our own contributions to our communities and evolve, learn, and grow accordingly.

Everything in our lives is opportunity.  We can take some and leave some.  We can choose to exclude and blame and hate -- or we can release the fear of the unknown and choose to include and accept and love.

Life [snap] it goes by in a blink.  So much of what we remember is how we felt along the way.  What a great gift both to give and receive is the graciousness and compassion to create these welcoming spaces for even those we may think are so incredibly different from us.  

In the end, we're all humans -- we all want to feel validated and cared for and safe to be our authentic selves.  

In the end, we are each our own version of a welcoming space -- if only we choose to shed our defensiveness and lead with kindness instead.

In the end, we are here.  We choose our own adventure.

I choose the path of kindness and curiosity and authenticity.  I choose to listen with the intent to learn.  Am I this way because I'm a social worker or am I a social worker because this is the way I am?  I'm listening.

2023

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