Ladies and Gentlemen

The subtle things are often more important than the major things.

In fact, subtle things are almost always major things to people who are negatively impacted by people's inattention to the subtle things.

You're on a webinar. Thousands of people. Interesting topic. Highly relevant. Eloquent MC:

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the webinar. Thanks for coming today. . ."

Not a problem, right? Perfectly acceptable way to kick off a webinar. Welcoming. Inviting. Standard.

Ladies and gentlemen. An opening greeting used by MCs in professional, social, cultural, political settings.

Ladies and gentlemen. Respectful. Decorous. Polite.

Unless of course you're not a lady or a gentleman.

This common, ubiquitous, accepted-by-the-masses "ladies and gentlemen" greeting leaves no room for the gender non conforming person, the person who doesn't identify within the gender binary restrictions.

Ladies and gentlemen. Seemingly innocuous, harmless, unremarkable.

If you happen to identify as a lady. Or a gentleman. Or a woman or a man or a female or a male or a girl or a boy.

But if you don't. Then what?

The subtle things matter. The subtle things that are pretty major.

That can be addressed with just a wee bit of empathy and creativity.

Thanks, everybody. You all have a good day.

Swapping Out the Strings

I take the guitar down from the wall, put the strap over my shoulder, grab a pick from the bin. And play.

The guitar sounds good (it is a Martin, after all). I strum chords, pick out bass runs, play around with scales and solos.

It sounds good, but it could sound better. It's not as vibrant as I'd like. It feels subdued, muffled.

I know why.

The strings are old. The high E and B are covered with grime from my fingers – sweat, dirt, dust, who knows what else.

The once bright copper shine of the G and the D and the A and the low E is now a dull brownish sludge color.

I'm lazy. Haven't changed the strings for months. Why should I? No gigs, no rehearsals, no recordings. Just a guy stuck in his house playing guitar between calls.

Nothing motivating me to spend the ten minutes and the ten bucks to swap out the strings.

Until I do.

Like I have thousands of times. Not surprised that the new strings make the guitar sound better, make it feel better in my hands, make me a better guitarist, make me a happier person.

Why don't I do this more often? It's so much fresher and brighter and cleaner and crisper and more representative of the true quality of the instrument and of the player.

And I trust that you understand and appreciate and take to heart the extended metaphor.

Shaping a Narrative That Is Representative of All Voices

"Pressure drop, oh pressure
Oh yeah, pressure gonna drop on you.
And when it drops you're gonna feel it
And know that you were doing wrong."

– Toots and the Maytals

Bullying and demonization and divisiveness and lying and tyranny and provocation and ugliness and apathy and violence and marginalization and righteousness and absolute power are all unsustainable.

Because every person and group and community and organization and nation has limits on what it will accept and tolerate and endure.

Eventually, those on the upside of power will lose their standing, their authority, their dominance, their influence.

And people on the downside of power and on the right side of history will rise up and demand change and accountability, equity and peace and love and unity.

It may seem slow, it may feel inconsequential, but the momentum gained from the will of people who are vulnerable enough to see themselves and each other as human will prevail.

If we believe. If we are focused. If we speak our truths. If we support each other.

If we shape a narrative that is inclusive and representative of all voices.

If we remember Gandhi:

“All through history, there have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they seem invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Always.”

White Supremacy Thrives in a System of White supremacy

People fail to see White supremacy as White supremacy because they have a narrow view of White supremacy.

They think only White Supremacy with a capital "S" upholds White supremacy.

Of course White Supremacy certainly does contribute to the perpetuity of White supremacy.

White Supremacy is easy to identify:

People who believe White people are the supreme race, and are not shy about expressing this via their group affiliations, words, actions, behaviors.

People who openly and unapologetically espouse, support, and/or commit hate, violence, murder, and genocide against non-White people.

For too many of us, however, White supremacy with a lowercase "s" is too easily dismissed.

The systems and institutions and laws and attitudes and behaviors and mindsets that are not as extreme as White Supremacy, but that provide a foundation for White Supremacy to continue and flourish.

All the "good" and "nice" and "neutral" people who are contributing to White supremacy with a lowercase "s" by benefiting from White supremacy with a lowercase "s".

People who are quick to condemn White Supremacy with a capital "S" while failing to use their privilege to challenge White supremacy with a lowercase "s".

As you can see, White Supremacy thrives in a system of White supremacy.

The Status Quo of White Supremacy

Status quo: White supremacy.

Status quo: White supremacists saying they won when they lost.

Status quo: White supremacists perpetuating the "we are victims, under attack, self defense" narrative.

Status quo: White supremacists using privilege to express anger and commit acts of violence.

Status quo: White supremacists doubling down on their White supremacy.

Status quo: White supremacists being secure in knowing they can get away with it.

Status quo: Federal, state, and local politicians, agents, officers, and others in power, actively advocating, supporting, and participating in insurrections to further support this narrative.

Status quo: Capitol police knowing about the potential for an insurrection and doing nothing to prepare or stop it.

Status quo: Capitol police taking selfies with said insurrectionists and terrorists.

Status quo: Capitol police calmly ushering terrorists out of the Capitol.

Status quo: White supremacists not taking responsibility for their White supremacy.

Status quo: White supremacists doing what White supremacists have done since White supremacists invented whiteness to perpetuate White supremacy.

Status quo: Black people being murdered for jogging and sleeping.

Status quo: White people being shocked at White supremacy and the status quo.

I’m a Dynamic Multi-faceted Human Being

I'm putting my "A White Guy Talking About Racism and Other Stuff That Matters" book together.

Putting the pieces in order based on the content, the tone, the reader's journey.

Here's where I'm at with it:

I've identified eight content areas:

1. racism (about half of the pieces)
2. LGBTQ
3. Approach (values, principles, foundational pillars, etc.)
4. EQ (empathy, vulnerability, communication, etc.)
5. storytelling
6. mindfulness
7. leadership
8. workplace culture (DEI, etc.)

There's a lot of overlap of course. And I'll have to determine how to weave them so each piece builds on previous pieces and/or unveils a new theme and/or introduces a new angle on a topic.

I started looking at the pieces on racism – about eighty of them.

I noticed five tones:

1. critical (direct, challenging, calling out)
2. inviting (sympathetic, calling in)
3. irreverent (humorous, sarcastic, satirical)
4. philosophical (reflective, abstract, curious)
5. stories (personal experiences, events, incidents)

I plan to do this with the other categories. It's a good exercise – a meta-exercise. I'm discovering a lot about myself.

Including that I'm a dynamic multi-faceted human being with a range of emotions, styles, ideas, opinions, voices.

That are all valid and relevant and important.

More to come. . .

More About My Book Writing Process

Wanted to tell you about my book writing process.

Since December 18, 2019 I have written 257 potentially book worthy LinkedIn posts.

This week I put all 257 of them in a huge 257 page Google doc – one per page.

Then, I reread each post and ranked 'em:

1: good shit (183 posts)

2: pretty good, but might get cut (58)

3: meh/irrelevant (16)

I also tagged each post with one or more of the following tags:

Race, mindfulness, EQ, leadership, DEIB, storytelling, gender, LGBTQ, reading, writing.

And I took some brief notes on each one.

Next up is go through the "1"s and do a deeper tagging to recognize recurring trends/themes/tones/narratives/topics/ etc.

Likely another thirty or so will get cut.

Then, I''ll put them in an order that has a good flow – unveiling themes/stories/philosophies so that later posts build on earlier posts.

I'll write an introduction.

Then, I'll ask maybe a dozen people who I trust and respect if they'd be interested and willing to read the manuscript and give me very direct and specific feedback and thought partnership.

I'll use those insights to improve the book and start getting it ready for publishing.

And, by the way, this process will also be nice prep for the podcast where I will read one post per episode.

Stay tuned for more coming soon.

Stay Tuned for More Soon

I'm taking some down time this week.

To relax. To read. To play guitar. To hang with my kids. To watch soccer.

To work on my book. And podcast.

A few weeks ago in a comment thread on one of my posts I shared a few pieces from the blog on my website.

The person I was conversing with said something like, "I love those pieces. Short. To the point. Almost like they're LinkedIn posts."

Funny you should say that, I said, because they are LinkedIn posts.

And I went on to explain that most of my LinkedIn posts get duplicated on my blog with about a six to eight week delay.

Ready made content. To stay relevant.

And an easy place to collect pieces for a book.

Tentatively titled "A White Guy Talking About Race and Other Stuff That Matters".

And a podcast with a simple format:

Short intro. Read a piece. Quick callout for a sponsor. Plug my work and upcoming book. End with a short guitar riff to wrap up.

Each podcast will max out at about three minutes.

Easily shareable for individuals, nonprofits, organizations – anyone, really! – to continue the conversation.

So that's what I'll be doing this week. Stay tuned for more soon.

And thanks to Rajkumari, Dominique, Nika, and others who have helped shape the direction of this project.

The Beauty That Comes from Truth Telling

The beauty that comes from truth telling is stronger than the ugliness that comes from lying.

The beauty that comes from compassion is stronger than the ugliness that comes from judgment.

The beauty that comes from love is stronger than the ugliness that comes from fear.

The beauty that comes from wisdom and kindness and empathy is stronger than the ugliness that comes from ignorance and divisiveness and rancor.

There's a simple beauty in truth telling.

A trust, an integrity, a humility. A quiet power.

A clarity of purpose. A lucidity of conscience. A fortitude that is difficult to dissolve.

A calmness in the face of chaos. A serenity unbothered by spite. An equanimity that dispels anxiety.

Truth telling conquers shame, squashes stigma, trounces humiliation.

Truth telling allows us to sleep at night. Truth telling provides a platform for deep connections, a foundation for strategic alliances, and an infrastructure for more truth telling.

It may seem tempting to be swayed by hate and dishonesty and falsehoods.

But the beauty of truth telling is infinitely more seductive, alluring, attractive.

The challenge of course is to be perpetually committed to unearthing, listening to, and sharing the truth.

In the face of myriad forces trying to prevent it from being heard.

Stories Matter

Stories matter.

Your story matters. My story matters. Our stories matter. The stories we tell matter. The stories we don't tell matter.

Stories about race and racism and injustice and discrimination matter.

Stories about gender inequity and gender pay gaps and sexual assault and imposter syndrome and old boys' networks and bro culture matter.

Stories about people who are transgender and gender nonconforming and gender nonbinary matter.

Stories about people who are gay and lesbian and bisexual and intersex and queer matter.

Stories about leadership and allyship and being an accomplice and a co-conspirator matter.

Stories about privilege and power and social capital and social justice and equity and diversity and inclusion and belonging matter.

Stories about empathy and vulnerability and compassion and connection and trust and relationships and humanity matter.

Stories about mindfulness and self-awareness and fear and courage and shame matter.

Political stories and professional stories and personal stories and local stories and international stories matter.

Sad stories and happy stories and painful stories and uncomfortable stories and hopeful stories matter.

You matter. I matter. We all matter.

Dominique Hollins matters. She inspired this post.

A Yin/Yang of Complementary Forces and Necessary Realities

A Fourth of July party with my dad and his friends in Bernal Heights. A rare warm summer San Francisco night.

Someone says, "I love the summer because the days are longer." People nod in agreement. Except my dad.

"Actually, the days are getting shorter until Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year. If you're into longer days, you should celebrate in January."

Awkward silence. Followed by appreciation for truth.

That party was about twenty-five years ago. I've since come to see the changing lengths of days as a kind of metaphor for life.

A Yin/Yang of complementary forces and necessary realities.

There are no long days without short days (unless you live on the equator), no darkness without light, no death without life, no fear without love, no sorrow without joy.

No 2020 without 2021.

We have to go through something harrowing to experience something heartening. And more often than not it is beyond our control to influence what we experience.

If we are mindful, sit with the uncertainty, observe what is happening around us, to us, inside of us, and remember that everything is temporary, the direction we need to take will evolve and the solutions will emerge.

After all, if you live in the Northern Hemisphere, on December 21st the days are already getting longer.

Time to celebrate.

This Happened to Me

Much of the personal, social, cultural, professional, and political divisiveness we experience around race would lessen significantly if White people weren't so quick to disbelieve the experiences of non-White people.

This happened to me.

No, it didn't.

This happened to me.

There's no way that happened to you.

This happened to me.

It didn't happen to me so it couldn't have happened to you.

This happened to me.

What's your ulterior motive?

This happened to me.

You're trying to game the system.

This happened to me.

That's not a problem anymore.

This happened to me.

I don't understand how that could have happened to you.

This happened to me.

I don't believe you.

The status quo perpetuation machine operating at full capacity.

White people who often have more political power, more social capital, more positional authority, more professional influence, casually and easily dismissing the lived realities and legitimate experiences of non-White people.

And then when non-White people speak up, they are gaslit, further dismissed, and labeled divisive.

Ad infinitum.

White people new to the racial equity discussion often ask, "What can I do to help?"

Start by believing non-White people. Validating someone's truth makes more of a difference than you can imagine.

Interconnected Lenses

I view my work through four distinct yet interconnected lenses:

1. Social justice.

Shit ain't equitable. The playing field is not level. It's not a meritocracy. I work to change that.

My default position is to advocate for the underdog, the marginalized, the "only"s.

I resist White solidarity, challenge dominant narratives, disrupt the status quo.

2. EQ.

To be effective, this work takes self-awareness. Driving impact requires centering empathy, curiosity, vulnerability.

Constant self-reflection. Willingness to change. Cultural humility and agility. Holding space. Okay not being right.

3. Mindfulness.

If we are unable to sit with uncertainty, we're in big trouble. Remembering that we are not our emotions and feelings.

Observing without judging or reacting. Striving for a state of equanimity. Detached from my views and dispassionate in how I express them.

So I can stay present and work for the long haul.

4. Storytelling.

My story. Your story. Our collective story. Whose stories are being told. Whose aren't. And why?

Amplifying voices, optimizing messaging. Challenging false and misleading narratives. Uplifting underrepresented ones.

Having a clear understanding of who I am, what I believe in, and why it matters. So that I can help others do the same.

Keep Doing Your Thing

I'm a junior in college walking down the busiest party street in town on a Friday night.

Most everyone I pass, in their drunken debauchery, laughs and points at me.

"Hey, look at that guy! What's he doing? Oh my god, he's got a. . .a . . . harmonica!" Pause. Hilarity. Pause. "And. . .he's playing it!" Side-splitting hilarity.

Astute observation indeed. I was playing a harmonica. Not very well but I was playing it.

I'd been listening to old blues records for three years – including harmonica legends like Sonny Terry, Sonny Boy Williamson, and Junior Wells – and I finally decided I'd play harmonica too.

That afternoon, I had bought a harmonica – in the key of B to play the blues of course – and was ambling down the street that night playing decidedly un-bluesy melodies, ignoring the laughing and pointing.

Within a year I was sitting in with local blues bands. A few years later playing in my own band, recording with other people, playing all over town.

Tons of new friends, good times, amazing experiences, wonderful memories. And an instrument that fits in my pocket.

Not sure what was so funny about a guy walking down the street playing a harmonica. I do it all the time. It's just my thing.

And you should do your thing too. Even if people laugh at you.

Writing Makes Me Infinite

"Reading would make me brilliant, but writing would make me infinite."

– Gabby Rivera

I finish one book and I go put it on the bookshelf. I pick up a new book and begin reading.

It's like chain smoking but without the lung cancer and the yellow fingernails and the hoarse voice and the early death.

I don't always write about what I read, but what I write emerges from what I read.

What I write is what I write because I read.

Reading makes me informed. Reading makes me inspired. Reading makes me knowledgeable. Reading makes me worldly. Reading makes me curious, empathetic, compassionate.

Reading makes me brilliant.

Reading gives me ideas: what to write about, how to write it, who to write it for, where to write it.

Writing makes me free. Makes me interesting. Makes me relevant. Makes me unique. Makes me strong. Makes me authentic. Makes me compelling. Makes me feel like I belong.

Writing builds connections and relationships. Writing opens doors. Writing leads to opportunities. Writing makes me smile and laugh and cry and believe.

Writing allows me to express myself. To share my emotions and feelings and opinions and perspectives.

Writing makes me proud and happy and powerful. Writing motivates me to do better, to be vulnerable, to be me.

Writing makes me infinite.

The Meta-conversation of Self-awareness

I've found many conversations are also meta-conversations – or should be.

Take the topic of self-awareness.

To optimize my self-awareness I must be consistently self-aware of when I'm not self-aware, or else I will continue to not be self-aware.

This constant self-awareness requires ongoing self-reflection and an intentional willingness to change – sometimes very subtly – my momentum, my energy, my ethos.

For instance, I've noticed lately that I've been trending in a more sarcastic and acerbic direction with some of my written communication.

Not beyond the boundaries of acceptability (for me), but something I'm noticing and want to intercept before I stumble drunkenly down a devolutionary dark alley.

This careful self-analysis and self-awareness may seem minor or insignificant, but without course correction, it's easy to go off the rails.

This isn't about self-censorship or inauthenticity. Just the opposite. It's about actualizing the authentic version of who I am and who I want to be.

I want to be the guy who disrupts the status quo, who has a clear point of view, who has a perspective worth sharing.

The guy who has something to say, who challenges assumptions, who makes people think, who influences the conversation, who builds connections.

I don't want to be an asshole.

We Live In a Meritocracy

It's hardly worth saying because it's so obvious, but I'll say it again:

We live in a meritocracy.

Recruiting. It's a meritocracy.

Hiring. It's a meritocracy.

Promotions. A meritocracy.

Leadership pathways. A meritocracy.

In fact it's so meritocratic that only the best and brightest of the White middle- to upper class men who went to the most exclusive schools merit being on our leadership team.

And on our board. And in manager positions. And in our hiring funnel. And in our intern pool.

(And at my dinner parties. And at my social club.)

In fact it's so goddamn motherfucking meritocratic that if you try to tell me one more time that it's not I'm gonna get really pissed off and threaten you with violence.

I'll get really defensive and dismissive and self-righteous, and I'll say to you in a snarky tone:

"We can't lower the bar because then it would no longer be a meritocracy."

Or. . .

"We want the best person for the position, don't we?"

Or. . .

"What's Morehouse? Is that a school?"

And then when you persist with your pitiful, whiney pandering about equity and justice, I'll roll my eyes, tell you to shut the hell up, and never talk to you again.

And then I will continue with my meritocratic work. Over a few brewskies with my bros. While we mock you.

Curious to Hear More of Your Perspective

A random DM I received recently from a White guy I don't know and with whom I have had no previous interaction:

"Must not get much sleep with all that White guilt."

I've said many times that what puts off White people from doing antiracism and social justice work is their inability to absorb criticism.

Because we haven't faced direct systemic oppression, marginalization, and discrimination due to our skin color, we don't have the same lived experiences as someone who has, and therefore our ability to sustain our commitment may not be as strong.

We get derailed too easily. We get distracted too easily. We take things personally too easily. We center ourselves too often and too easily. We lose perspective too easily.

We forget that this work is not about us and our feelings. We forget that whatever resentment, criticism, aggression, gaslighting we receive is exactly what people of color receive. . .

ALL. THE. TIME.

So next time a White person tries to intimidate you and derail your efforts, remember you have a choice how to respond.

You're welcome to use my response:

"Thanks for reaching out. Curious to hear more of your perspective."

And then continue with the work.

And, no, he has not shared more of his perspective. As expected.

Good thing I didn't consider it too seriously.

Starting to Notice Patterns

When I first was learning guitar, I'd bring a song to my teacher each week to learn. After thirty seconds, he knew all the chords.

Every single song, every genre. How did he do that?

I kept practicing and listening. Pretty soon I could do it too.

I noticed recognizable patterns.

Like most bluegrass songs are in G.

And 90% of blues progressions end on the five chord.

And ragtime songs usually have a 3-6-2-5 bridge.

And the best reggae songs go back and forth on just two chords – the one and four.

And hundreds of songs across all genres have the same exact four chord progression. Google "Axis of Awesome 4 Chords" for hilarious proof.

So, yeah, you start to recognize patterns once you know to look for them.

It's not too dissimilar to the recognizable patterns I notice about how White people engage in conversations about race.

Some recognizable patterns: defensiveness, aggression, denial, guilt, gaslighting, tone policing, canceling, White solidarity.

Once you know to look for the patterns, you can't help but see them all over the place.

And, to be clear, just as not all bluegrass songs are in G, and not all blues progressions end on the five chord, and not all reggae songs only have two chords. . .

Not all White people exhibit these behaviors.

But a whole hell of a lot do.

Do You Have Something to Say?

One reason why you may be having a difficult time sharing your point of view with conviction is because you don't really have a point of view.

You haven't taken the time to develop an authentic, compelling perspective that is uniquely yours and that clearly states what you believe in.

You haven't developed your voice, unearthed your narrative, articulated your story – to yourself.

You want so badly to be heard and praised and seen and validated and loved – but you're not willing to be vulnerable and bare your soul.

You haven't done the work.

Instead of revealing who you really are, you borrow ideas and meanings and theories and points of view from others and pass them off as your own.

You conflate being influenced and inspired and motivated by other people's ideas with plagiarism and theft.

And you don't understand why it falls flat – just like everything does that's disingenuous, fake, a facade.

And then you wonder why people aren't responding to you the way you'd like them to. Why you're not driving impact. Why you're not affecting change.

You don't appreciate that being influential involves deep self-exploration, ongoing self-reflection on what matters to you.

You don't seem to understand that having said something is not the same thing as having something to say.