Seeing Ourselves in Someone Else's Profundity

"In quoting others, we cite ourselves."

– Julio Cortazar

Many of us don't know how to respond to what someone else has written.

When I taught sixth grade, a staple in my room was the Wall of Profundity. Nothing but hundreds of passages from books, articles, and speeches – all indiscriminately pinned to the wall.

The passages all stood on their own and made no reference to individual people or characters or places. They were the type of passages you'd see on bumper stickers or inspirational posters or email signatures.

A few times a week, kids selected a passage that resonated with them and they wrote in their Journal of Profundity.

Respond to the passage in any way you like. What comes up for you? What makes you reflect? What inspires you or motivates you? No further instructions were given.

At the end of the semester, they had a dozen or so reflections. They picked their best ones, and developed them into complete pieces that could be read aloud.

Then we had a "Share Your Voice" night at a local cafe. The kids were empowered to continue to share their voices in all kinds of situations and for all kinds of reasons.

Adults are also inspired by the profundity of someone else's words.

But do we have the courage and creativity to see ourselves in someone else's profundity?

Curiosity About the Lives of Dead Black Musicians

When I was seventeen, I discovered some of my mom's old blues records.

I'd been a music kid since fifth grade with Casey Kasem's Top 40. New Wave in middle school. Classic rock in high school.

These records were a new world – not just musically, but racially too.

You see, these old blues musicians were Black, and almost everything I listened to was performed by White artists.

Of course I never thought about that as I danced at a New Order concert or played air guitar along with Jimmy Page.

Once I discovered the music of Robert Johnson, Mississippi John Hurt, Blind Gary Davis, Memphis Minnie, and so many others, I also became interested in their lives.

Most of them were not professional musicians. They were farmers or cotton pickers or shoeshiners or janitors or maids.

They played music at dances, bars, and cafes or, if they were lucky, at concerts put on by White ethnomusicologists.

In the twenties, thirties, forties, fifties, and sixties, while they entertained White audiences with their music, they were barred from the restaurants and hotels and bars where they played because they were Black.

Curiosity about the lives of these long dead Black musicians was the beginning of my appreciation of the lived experiences of people not like me.

My appreciation for the vast dynamism of the human condition.

Pseudo-Conviction About Having Conviction

Do you ever catch yourself realizing that you don't actually have a strong opinion about something you've just shared a strong opinion about?

Someone shares something that doesn't resonate with you, or that you are unfamiliar with, or that you maybe think you disagree with even though you've never really given it much thought.

But instead of being curious, instead of reflecting, instead of examining your beliefs, instead of leading with equanimity. . .

. . . you go all in with a response as if it's the most important thing in the world, as if it's super urgent, as if a mild or curious response – or no response – is not an option.

Do you notice that about yourself? How you get caught up in expressing yourself with such ferocity that your argument ends up being defending the ferocity of your argument as opposed to the argument itself?

Because once you're all in, you don't want to be seen as a wuss and back down. You think you have conviction, but really you just have pseudo-conviction about having conviction.

I see this approach a lot when White people talk about race and racism.

The knee-jerk reaction to disbelieve, to invalidate, to gaslight, to point to exceptions, to uphold White supremacy.

I invite you to stop doing that. You're causing a lot of harm.

Twenty Minutes First Thing in the Morning

I got back on track this week and I feel the difference. I did two things.

First, I was disciplined and did my ten minute meditation the very first thing in the morning. According to my Momentum app, I've meditated four-hundred-seventy-three straight days, but I've been erratic with it – sometimes in the morning, sometimes at lunch, sometimes before bed.

And then right after I meditated – before I checked email or LinkedIn or played guitar or read the news or watched soccer highlights – I exercised.

Ten minutes of activity. Ten minutes of sweating. Ten minutes of getting in shape. Ten minutes of feeling good.

So by 5:30am, I've centered myself and I've gotten my physical activity for the day. Before the sun is even an idea in the eastern sky, I've already positioned myself for a successful, stressless day.

My work was more meaningful. My breakfast and lunch tasted better. My meetings were more engaging. My mind at ease, my disposition equanimous, my purpose aligned.

Challenges came and went. But little worried my mind. Little bothered my soul. Little interrupted my focus.

And all it took was twenty minutes first thing in the morning.

You know, I think I'm on to something. I might have to keep doing this disciplined meditate-and-exercise-first-thing-in-morning thing.

It's working for me.

Feeling Connected and Aligned

The final rough draft of my book, A White Guy Confronting Racism, is finished.

Ten sections with ten introductions, about one0hundred and fifty vignettes, a kick-ass preface, about fifty thousand words.

Part confessional, part manifesto, part call to action – all humanity.

All the vignettes were written on, and taken directly from, LinkedIn. From this very same status update box that I'm writing in right now.

I collected them, sorted them, put them into ten sections, edited some, left others alone.

The last month I wrote about twenty thousand words – a seven thousand word preface and the ten introductions to the ten sections.

With titles such as:

I’m Not Normal, I’m White

The Continuing Re-education of a Privileged White Dude

Holding Space to Share Our Truths

There's More to Life Than El Cajon

Laughing to Keep from Crying

The World Is Waiting for You to Act

Lots of compassion, empathy, vulnerability, equanimity. And lots of conviction and expectations for White folks to commit to being antiracist, and to hold themselves and other White folks accountable.

Feeling accomplished. Feeling connected. Feeling aligned. Feeling like I'm driving impact and affecting change.

Feeling drained. Feeling ready for a short break before I get back to work.

Feeling grateful. Feeling good to be alive.

You Can Still Care About Black Humanity

Hey everyone, it's April 30.

Polite reminder that even though Black History Month is two months gone, Black history still matters.

Black people still matter.

Black women still matter.

Black men still matter.

Black gender nonbinary people still matter.

Black people with any and all intersectional identities matter.

Black people still regularly experience racism.

Black people are still gaslit.

Black people still regularly get microaggressed.

Black people still experience inequities – micro and macro.

Black people should still not be talked over in meetings.

Black people should still be hired and promoted equitably.

Black people's stories and lived experiences still matter.

Black people's perspectives are still valid.

Black people still feel and hurt and love and cry and laugh and face challenges and have successes and make mistakes and have opinions.

You can still read and learn about Black history and Black people.

You can still support Black individuals and Black businesses and Black causes.

You can still care about your Black colleagues and Black friends and Black connections.

You can still amplify Black voices.

You can still call out racism when you see it.

You can still care about Black humanity.

You don't have to take a break.

Carry on. . .

Writing Is a Motherfucker!

Man, writing is a motherfucker! Yesterday I had four hours blocked off to make progress on my book.

I planned to write three introductions to the sections on EQ, Mindfulness, and Storytelling. I already had the outlines prepared, the ideas in my head for what I would say and how the pieces would flow. I pictured myself banging 'em out, taking a little break, and then going back in and cleaning them up.

But how it really went down was like this: I didn't write shit. Okay, I wrote a few lines here and there, and I reread and reread my outlines and my notes. But nothing came to me. Nothing inspirational, nothing creative, nothing meaningful.

I got up from the computer every two minutes. I played guitar, I looked out the window, I folded the blankets, I cleaned my desk, I checked my bank account balance online, I watched soccer highlights.

My family said I was in a funk last night. They were probably right. I went to bed early. I woke up early. I came down to the basement. I meditated for ten minutes. I opened up the computer and I tried again.

I just finished a twelve-hundred word introduction to the EQ section. It flowed. I made some edits. I cut some stuff. I added some stuff. I rearranged a few parts. I wordsmithed. I am happy with it.

Now for the other two sections. Wish me luck. . .

The Essence Is Staying As Is

My A White Guy Confronting Racism book is in order – all the sections and the pieces in the sections, and I've been thinking about what I should say in the preface and how I should write the introductions to each section.

I've got notes on my whiteboard and in my notebook and on notepads and on envelopes and on little scraps of paper and in my head and on a Google doc.

Probably too many notes. Probably too much planning. Probably overthinking. Probably procrastination and fear and excuses and. . .

I got up this morning at 5:00. I came down to the basement and started to write. I wrote until 7:30. Thirty-five hundred words.

I just started writing, and it all just flowed and flowed and flowed. Started the preface with an anecdote to set the tone for the book.

About racism, but not obvious, egregious racism. A subtle, nuanced racism. How it shows up, how it lingers, how it never goes away until we confront it.

I continued in a stream of consciousness style and captured my evolution of consciousness, and there was so much consciousness that I wrote twenty-five hundred more words.

And when I was done I reread what I wrote. And, yeah, I made a few tweaks, and, yeah, I'll make more edits down the road. But the essence – the essence! – is staying as is.

And I can't wait for you to read it when it's published.

Keep Celebrating Humanity and Connection and Truth

Friday afternoon with a beer and Art Pepper keeping me company. Working on my book. Editing, fine tuning, thinking about how I'm going to write the introductions to the ten sections.

I'm currently in the Stories Matter section – being inspired by myself and what I've written in the past. Inspired to write more and better stuff, to write more inspirational stuff. . .

Taking notes like, "don't be afraid to write in a stream of consciousness manner, with lots of commas and run-on sentences and. . .ellipses. . . because you can always go back and edit later. . . or not. . ."

Really starting to architect the book. . . how does it flow from the beginning to the end, from one section to the next. . . what will the reader's experience be like?

Sitting in my recliner looking out the window. . .feeling fortunate to have written everything I've written, and to keep writing what I will write today and tomorrow and next year.

To keep telling my stories, to keep inspiring others to tell theirs. . .and to keep celebrating humanity and connection and truth. . .in the face of all that's trying to dehumanize and disconnect and lie. . .

And so I'm documenting what's going on in my life, my head, my heart. . .I'm documenting, not creating. . .

And feeling pretty good about things. . .

When It's Easy It's Probably Not That Good

Here's the thing about writing. It's really hard. Even when it's easy. Or when it seems easy. Or when people make it look easy. Or when they say it's easy.

I've probably said it's easy in the past. But I think I was misunderstanding myself.

Just because something flows from the mind through the fingers onto the keys and ends up looking pretty on the screen doesn't mean it's easy.

It's like that story where the street artist draws a portrait for the tourist, and it's perfect, and the tourist can't believe how the artist did it so well in only five minutes, and the tourist asks the artist how much it costs, and the artist says, that'll be ten grand, and the tourist says, ten grand! are you kidding me! You expect me to pay ten grand for five minutes of work?

And the artist says, you think I created that in five minutes? That didn't take me five minutes. That took me forty years of blood, sweat, and tears, and living on the streets, and being told I'd never amount to anything, and being mocked for not getting a "real job", and having the courage and the vision and the commitment and the will to follow my heart and dreams and become my authentic self.

Writing for me is kind of like that. Nothing I write that's easy is that easy. When it's easy it's probably not that good.

Connect Before You Correct

My son just finished his piano lesson. He loves piano. And he's pretty good, if I do say so myself. A twelve-year-old playing all the classical stuff his teacher brings, plus learning Scott Joplin and Monk on his own.

He plays all the time. We've never once told him to practice. We've only told him to stop a handful of times because we were on a call.

So we were surprised when he clicked out of Zoom and closed his computer and started crying.

What's wrong? He wouldn't answer. He walked into the kitchen and buried his head on the counter, full of emotion that we couldn't identify.

Finally, through tears and sobs and snot running down his face, he said, "I worked on that hard song all week and all she did was tell me the parts I messed up on."

His teacher is a kind woman. A professional piano player. She and my son have a good relationship.

She means well. She sees his talent. He likes her. We are happy with her.

And, sometimes in a hierarchical relationship – teacher/student, coach/player, parent/child, boss/direct report, mentor/mentee – we forget to connect with the other person before we correct the other person.

To say that we appreciate their hard work. Recognize their effort. Notice their drive.

We could all do well to pay attention to that part more often.

Reading One Book Ain't Gonna Cut It

I've read a lot of critical and negative commentary about White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo.

From White and Black people.

Some themes:

• it's written with circular logic

• it's condescending to Black people

• it's a no-win situation for White people

• it's written in a smug tone

• White people aren't fragile, they're cowardly

I'm not here to argue any of those points. I think they all have a lot of merit. They're all valid.

And, I think the biggest problem with the book is that, because it's so popular and ubiquitous, it becomes the only book that a lot of White people read about racism.

They read this book, maybe understand the main themes but maybe not, maybe agree with some of it but maybe not, maybe are inspired to self-reflect and act but maybe not, maybe join a book club with other people similarly unable or unwilling to fully explore the concepts in the book or maybe not. . .

And that's it. Their antiracism work is over. They read the book, didn't really get it – or really, really got it – and now their racism worldview is unilaterally shaped by one person's perspective.

So, it's not that the book shouldn't be read. It should. There is a lot to learn from it.

And, if you're truly committed to antiracism, reading one book and calling it a day ain't gonna cut it.

Fine Tuning the Book Draft

I'm fine-tuning my book draft.

Title is still resonating: "A White Guy Confronting Racism"

Subtitle too: "An Invitation to Reflect and Act"

Rereading the pieces, I make minor edits, but mostly leave 'em alone. Cutting out about ten or fifteen.

Still have to write the preface, afterword, and intros for each section, which are:

1. My Approach to Confronting Racism

2. Confronting Racism by Calling People In

3. Emotional Intelligence (need a title here)

4. Confronting Racism by Sharing Stories

5. The Interconnectedness of Mindfulness and Racial Justice

6. Confronting Racism with Conviction

7. Stories Matter

8. Confronting Racism with Irreverence and Satire

9. Workplace Culture and Leadership (need a title here too)

10. Confronting Racism by Calling People Out

Each section has ten to twenty pieces – micro-essays I'm calling them. All initially written on LinkedIn sometime between December 2019 and January 2021.

Working with a thought partner/publishing coach right now. Editing and all that jazz will come this April and May. Then aim to publish in the summer.

Will need readers, reviewers, a foreword writer, and some other stuff. Stay tuned.

More info on the book here.

Thanks for the past, current, and future support. I appreciate you all.

Playing Monk Is Really Hard

As I type this, my twelve-year-old son is upstairs playing Monk on the piano. It sounds good – for a few bars, and then it gets a little rough.

He loses the melody. Or the rhythm. Or both. He starts over. Or ploughs through. Some parts are polished. Others not so much.

But he keeps practicing. He's not getting it overnight. No one will. You know why?

Because playing Monk is really hard.

Monk was a genius. He didn't follow the rules. He played unusual chords no one even thought to play. Dissonant notes that didn't resolve. Strange syncopations on the right hand. Three or four octave strides on the left.

And that's why we love him. Why he's iconic. Why his songs are in piano books. Why he's inspirational. Why he motivates us to learn and grow and thrive.

And that's why we should all appreciate the difference between learning from someone else and trying to be someone else.

Monk was unique. There will never be another like him. My son is unique. There will never be another like him.

Will my son get better at playing Dinah and North of the Sunset on the piano? Absolutely! Will he ever be Monk? No.

People we admire should inspire us to be better versions of ourselves. Not to be replicas of them.

Enjoy: https://lnkd.in/gXRB9tN

Consciously Working to Take Up Less Space

I was facilitating a small group conversation today on bias, and someone said something simple and yet so profound.

Reflecting on his efforts to bring more self-awareness to his (often unconscious) actions and behaviors, he said:

"I'm trying to stop letting my experiences get in the way of someone else sharing their experiences."

What a great insight, and a personal goal to continually work on:

Stop letting your experiences get in the way of someone else sharing their experiences.

We do that all the time. We take up so much of the space in any given context – in a 1:1 call, in a team meeting, online, with our family and friends – that we leave little or no room for someone else to share their experience.

What if each one of us could consciously be aware of how much space we're taking up, and then consciously work to take up less space?

Imagine what that space does for the person or people whose space we had previously taken for ourselves?

The agency, the autonomy, the confidence, the growth.

And the new ideas, insights, and solutions that we and everyone else now have access to.

When we pause, we intentionally create space for others to share their voice, their stories, their perspectives.

Which opens up all kinds of beautiful opportunities. For them and for all of us.

Are You Engaging with Black Humanity?

"I don’t believe your antiracist work is complete or valid or useful if you haven’t engaged with Black humanity."

– Tarana Burke

Are you engaging with Black humanity?

I go to racial justice protests and rallies.

Thanks for showing up. And are you engaging with Black humanity?

I donate $ to Black Lives Matter and other racial justice causes.

Financial contributions help. And are you engaging with Black humanity?

I'm glad to see Kamala Harris in the White House.

Me too. And are you engaging with Black humanity?

I was appalled by the White supremacist insurrection at the Capitol.

That sure was appalling. And are you engaging with Black humanity?

I gave $20K to the Black ERG budget at my company.

Very kind of you. And are you engaging with Black humanity?

We hired three Black people and promoted two others to leadership positions last year.

Representation matters. And are you engaging with Black humanity?

What do you mean?

Are you leading with heart?

Well, I mean, um, I guess. . .

Are you holding space?

Uh, well, um, it's just that. . .

Are you building authentic relationships?

I think, uh, well, you know. . .

Are you listening and believing and feeling?

I don't. . . um, well, sometimes. . .yeah, well. . .

Are you engaging with Black humanity?

Maybe not.

The Results of My Data Collection

I admit that data collection isn't one of my strong points in my antiracism and social justice work.

I tend to focus on the intangibles like personal narratives and self-development and cultural fluency and relationships and empathy and curiosity and how we show up for each other.

Stuff that can't always be measured, but is infinitely important.

And, I could do better on the data side. So, I conducted a little research.

Here are my conclusions:

100% of Black people are human.

100% of Black women are human.

100% of Black men are human.

100% of Black transgender men and women are human.

100% of Black nonbinary people are human.

100% of gay and lesbian Black people are human.

100% of poor Black people are human.

100% of Black people I know are human.

100% of Black people I don't know are human.

100% of Black lives matter.

Amazingly, all my data on Black people gave me the same results.

You're welcome to use this data anytime, anywhere, and with anyone you'd like.

If you want to cite a source, just say you got the data from a guy you know named Jared.

If they want more details, you can say it came from Jared's heart.

Or, you can say the source is your own heart.

Because I trust that your own research and data collection has led you to the same numbers I found.

Trendy Virtue Signaling

A few years ago I wrote an article on LinkedIn about why I put my pronouns on my profile.

I told a story of a transgender kid in my class when I was teaching sixth grade.

I wrote in a matter-of-fact manner – intentionally centering empathy, compassion, trust, connection.

I shared his situation, our relationship, and my role in helping him reveal his secret to his classmates.

I concluded with a CTA: we all – especially those of us from one or more dominant groups – can show up in a very positive way for others.

If we consciously choose to do so.

That's the thing – we have to consciously choose to do it. Not once, or a few times, or even a lot of times, but always.

It has to become who we are, a non-negotiable part of our essence.

Which is good for the people whose stories and voices we are amplifying.

And it's also good for us. We know that our efforts are contributing to a more equitable world.

So when someone left a comment on my article that simply said "#trendy #virtuesignaling", it doesn't distract from my greater purpose.

I responded that I was curious to hear more if he was willing to elaborate. He didn't respond. And that was that.

I carry on doing the work.

And inspire people who are further along on their journey and ready to receive the message.

You Might Be a White Supremacist

You might be a White Supremacist and/or knowingly supporting White supremacy and/or supporting but denying that you're supporting White supremacy if. . .

You stormed the US Capitol on January 6.

You carried a Confederate flag in the US Capitol.

You stole a lectern from the US Capitol.

Once illegally in the US Capitol, you broke into an office, put your feet up on a desk, and wrote a threatening note to a congressperson.

You took a selfie with an officer at the US Capitol.

You think the insurrection at the US Capitol was an act of patriotism and not an attempted coup.

You are asking the president for a pardon after you were arrested for storming the US Capitol.

You are excited and inspired by the people who stormed the US Capitol.

You are surprised that there are consequences for storming the US Capitol.

You honestly think the US election was stolen.

You don't really think the US election was stolen but you claim it was anyway.

You think the storming of the US Capitol has nothing to do with race.

You dismiss people who say that if Black people had stormed the US Capitol there would have been way more than five people killed.

You still describe yourself as "not racist".

You're not doing anything to change who you are.

You're shocked that this could happen in America.

Serendipitous Contributions

I've been sharing about my book writing process a lot lately. For a few reasons.

1. Shameless plug. #obvious
2. Public accountability. Putting it out there.
3. To inspire others. Maybe you'll get ideas about your book.
4. To be inspired by others.

This last one's important.

Sure, I'm the writer. These are my ideas. I'm organizing the themes. My name will be on the cover.

And by being so public about it, I get tons of cool new nuggets and insights and approaches that I wouldn't have thought of on my own.

Like when I said my working title was "A White Guy Talking About Race" and Naomi said, aren't you really talking about racism?

Boom. New title: "A White Guy Talking About Racism".

Thanks, Naomi.

And when Steve said, "Are you just talking about racism, or are you actually confronting it?"

Boom! New title: "A White Guy Confronting Racism".

Thanks, Steve.

And when Kayla sent me a DM about my posts, saying, "What you share is an invitation for reflection and action."

Boom! New subtitle: "An Invitation for Reflection and Action" that will replace the afterthought-ish "And Other Stuff That Matters".

Thanks, Kayla.

I still have a lot of work to do. And, these serendipitous contributions are helping me tremendously as I shape the look and feel and vibe of the book.

Yay us!