so, what is community? (part three)
is the definition phase ever going to end? probably not, and that's okay
(This disclaimer will probably be at the top of all my newsletters moving forward. This newsletter contains affiliate links, so if you click on one and purchase something I make a little commission at no additional cost to you. It’s a win-win! As I’ve said before, I only recommend stuff I actually use or have read or have purchased or are in alignment with my values as far as I am aware. I hope you enjoy and appreciate anything you buy based off of a recommendation from me!)
If there was ever source of encouragement for me that I was on the right track in terms of developing a thorough definition of community (or anything, really), it would be the fact that the Toni Morrison herself had a perspective on definitions. Her birthday was on February 18th, and I saw a quote by her that made me feel a great swell of pride in the work I’m doing:
This quote comes from her book, Beloved, and frankly it’s a rough quote because the scene in which it’s used is one where a White schoolteacher is whipping a Black student. The schoolteacher is actually the one who says it in the book, and the scene is intentionally designed as a corollary to slavery.
Why would a quote like this be important in this conversation about community? To me, the lesson to be learned here is that if we are going to operate from a definition then it behooves us to be the ones to create it, and to be extremely deliberate in doing so. If we attempt to operate under the auspices of a community (of any kind) and we do not do the work of carefully crafting expectations around what it is and what is does, then we expose ourselves to be subject to others who might seek to define it for us and then corral us into their construct. By developing community on our own terms we are able to occupy the space of both the defined AND the definers, cultivating and maintaining exactly what we want to experience while also protecting what we’ve created from those who seek to destroy it. How can we fight and strive for something if we don’t know what we’re fighting for?
In Part Two of this miniseries on defining community, I used a watered down version of a story from Octavia E. Butler’s Dawn to make a point about why defining community is important. I also spoke about the fact that developing true community is about much more than just the aspects that give you warm fuzzies (specifically, warmth, curiosity, and recognition). There are certainly other pleasant attributes to community that will be added to this dynamic definition, but today I want to hone in on a few of the potentially unpleasant ones. It is important to acknowledge that being in community with one’s self and with others is not always going to be pleasant, and that true community requires us to show up for those unpleasant moments. With that said, I’m going to use another example from Dawn to discuss these characteristics.
This is a decently long one so go to the bathroom, grab a drink, and settle in. (I promise it’s worth it!)
1. Discomfort
It should come at no surprise that the first trait of community that appears on the unpleasant list is discomfort. If we are to engage with one another—and ourselves—meaningfully we cannot expect that it will always feel good. (I’ve mused for years about writing a dissertation on discomfort. Maybe someday I’ll do it.)
Without giving away too much about the plot of Dawn, I can share that a major aspect of the main character, Lilith’s, development throughout the book deals with her experience of discomfort as a training tool for adapting to her current circumstances. She is placed in a series of wildly uncomfortable situations and her challenge in each of those situations is to remain in them until her discomfort lessens and she is able to respond to her surroundings without recoiling. This involves her interactions with aliens, her environment, other humans, food, shelter, clothing, and her own mind and body.
Why does this happen? To provide her the opportunity to develop an ability to cope. To build her tolerance. To expand her capacity for patience, endurance, resilience, and a whole host of other useful skills.
We can take multiple pages from this playbook (no pun intended. Was that a pun? Somebody better at puns please tell me!) and learn to exercise and strengthen our discomfort muscles. No matter how much we may like or love someone we are going to encounter incidents that make us uncomfortable. The longer we are able to sit with that discomfort, the better our responses to those incidents will be. (Obviously this doesn’t mean put ourselves in harm’s way or allow someone else to harm us. Rather, it encourages us to discern whether we are actually being harmed and sit with the discomfort if we are not.)
There is a form of therapy called Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (also known as ACT and pronounced as a word rather than an acronym) that was developed as a way to address many of the psychological afflictions we experience without focusing simply on reducing symptoms. Instead, ACT challenges us to consider what our deeply-held values are and what we are willing to endure in order to live by them. It acknowledges that pain (in all its forms, not just physical) is an unavoidable aspect of life and that the better we get at tolerating pain, the closer we get to living out our values on a daily basis. It turns a lot of Western psychology on its head and I’ve found myself gravitating toward it over the last nine years because it can be boiled down—in my mind—to a simple framework: we only have control over our own behavior, so engaging in practices that allow us to exercise greater control moves us from a place of reacting to the events that affect us to a place of responding to them in accordance with our values. It’s an entire therapeutic system so obviously it consists of much more than that, but if we are to get better at responding then we necessarily must get better at being uncomfortable in the first place. (ACT is incredibly helpful with that without being preachy or making you feel like you are bad or wrong in some way for not being good at it immediately. If you’re interested in learning more about it, this is a fantastic place to start. Steven C. Hayes is the person who originally developed ACT back in the 1980s and is the best resource for people looking to learn more.)
Did it make you a little uncomfortable, or at least confused, when I didn’t start this newsletter with a Picture this story? That was intentional, and it was meant to be a chance to practice discomfort in a small way in a safe space. You’re already doing it!
2. Critique
Returning to Dawn and Lilith’s plight, there are a number of times throughout the book where she is faced with a conversation or a decision in which she is told she was wrong or misguided. One character in particular admonishes her regularly and she takes significant offense to it. As I was reading, I noticed myself getting defensive on her behalf at first, and later questioning times when I might have reacted in a way that didn’t acknowledge what was actually being communicated in that moment.
Sincere community requires that we accept when we are wrong, when we have overlooked something, when we have forgotten something, or when we truly don’t know something (among many other examples of critique-worthy action). Going back to the concept of curiosity in Part Two, opening ourselves up to critique affords us ample opportunities to approach someone’s feedback in an inquisitive way rather than a protective way. Wouldn’t you want to know when you have said or done something wrong so that you don’t say or do it again? Wouldn’t you want to know you’ve overlooked or forgotten something so you can incorporate that information into your perspectives and behaviors? Wouldn’t you want to know what you don’t know so that you can deepen your intelligence and apply those concepts to your life moving forward? It sounds wonderful in theory and is difficult in practice.
Another aspect of critique is the willingness to provide it and the ability to do so lovingly rather than painfully. Withholding feedback out of a desire not to hurt someone’s feelings just because you think they won’t receive it well is ill-advised if you’re going to be in community with others. We all need to hear from one another about what we could be doing better or not at all. Furthermore, your critique of another, even if it is accurate, well-intentioned, and in the service of someone else’s development, will not be received well—if at all—if you deliver it in a harsh way. That doesn’t mean sugarcoat or omit important information. It just means that something akin to the Golden Rule probably makes sense when doling out criticism: if you wouldn’t want someone to critique you in that manner, it is good practice not to critique them that way. Someone who provides superb critique and opportunities for self-reflection is Isaiah Frizzelle, who I mentioned in an Instagram post a few weeks back. If you want an example of how to lovingly provide potentially uncomfortable insight, watch a few of his reels. Or all of his reels. They’re all excellent.
Additionally, this does not include instances where someone is being intentionally hurtful, knowingly disingenuous, or is wrong themselves (including you). As I’ve said before, this is a nuanced definition rather than a comprehensive definition and that means that everything should be approached as ethically as possible. In his book The Miracle Habits, Mitch Horowitz defines ethics as “doing nothing to deny the self-development of another person that you seek for yourself.” I immediately fancied that definition so I’m applying it here. If someone is deliberately harming you (or you them) through a critique rather than offering a path toward useful self-development, that is unethical treatment and should be ignored. (Again, easier said than done.) Both you and the other person will need to evaluate whether that is happening, and if it is then that behavior should be addressed so that it stops. This is a longer conversation for another newsletter but the gist of it is that if the critique is delivered ethically then it deserves to be considered. Go back to characteristic #1 in this post and remind yourself that it’s okay to be uncomfortable when it is in the service of strong community.
3. Conflict
In the second half of Dawn, Lilith is tasked with teaching a group of people how to be in community with one another. (If you hadn’t picked up on the constant thread of community by now I don’t know what to tell you, lol.) They are eventually dropped in the jungle and as one might imagine it gets real Lord of the Flies real quick. (If you haven’t read Lord of the Flies this is your call-to-action to do so immediately. It’s taught in high school for a reason.) The people in Lilith’s group did not read this newsletter and therefore do not know about the unifying power of discomfort or critique and it shows.
We are going to disagree. We are going to have different ideas and thoughts and perspectives and opinions and lifestyles and preferences. We can’t always concur about where to go for dinner so why would we assume we will see eye to eye on decisions and plans that affect our lives and livelihoods in tantamount ways? We absolutely MUST learn how to be in conflict with one another and do so well. Not right. Not perfectly. Just well.
Ashtin Berry (@thecollectress on Instagram) posted about this recently and it resonated with me because many of my experiences with people have looked like what she described.
She is talking specifically about politics in her post but if you remove the words “leftist” and “politics” from the first sentence and replace them with the words “people” and “values,” respectively, you’ll get a pretty clear picture of what I’m talking about. When we hold so tightly to what we believe we will inevitably become mired in conflict. Politics is an easy trigger to ensnare someone in strife with another but there are infinite ways we can piss each other off while co-existing in community. Some of us think cilantro is delicious, others think it tastes like a bar of soap (me, unfortunately). And that isn’t even by choice! We aren’t going to agree on what to eat for dinner if one person wants tacos and the other…doesn’t. I eat cilantro all the time even though it is not pleasant because I still love tacos and don’t like asking for substitutions or deletions when I go out to eat. (This is an incredibly low-stakes and mostly avoidable example but that is on purpose!)
Rather diving into the abyss that is all the ways we can disagree with one another, I will sum this up by saying that instead of trying to figure out how never to be in conflict, we should redirect our focus to learning how to be better at being in conflict (because it is unavoidable). As we engage and flex our discomfort muscles and expose ourselves to worthy critique, we will arrive at junctures that will challenge us to utilize what we’ve learned in the form of healthy conflict.
During CiderCon®, Serilda Summers-McGee of Workplace Change delivered an incredible seminar on healthy conflict, called “Restorative Approaches in the Workplace,” that provided a framework for navigating discord among people in professional spaces. In the interest of not giving away information that she charges for I will not be breaking down that framework in this newsletter, but it offered a vast amount of actionable information, strategies, and tactics that could easily be transferred from the workplace to other areas where people have to interact with one another and collaborate. The framework is called Harmony Restoration™ (yes, y’all, it’s trademarked, hence the lack of breakdown) and I highly encourage you to check it out. If I can figure out how to work with her to bring that framework to the newsletter I will let you know. (If I can’t, I will find something else because this is a topic that I believe requires facilitation by someone or someones who are skilled in doing and teaching it well.)
Another resource that has been exceedingly helpful for me in learning how to do conflict better is this episode of the Mel Robbins podcast. It was shared with me by one of my girlfriends via our group chat, and she shared it because it was a crucial element of the breakthrough she and her partner had recently experienced after years of feeling disconnected, frustrated, and at odds. This podcast episode drills down into the specifics of a behavior change process developed by Harvard psychologist and professor Dr. Stuart Ablon after three decades of practice, research, and teaching. It isn’t conflict management per se, but it addresses deeply ingrained conflicts by providing a method for dealing with challenging interactions that I found insightful and could be implemented immediately. It is an hour-and-a-half long so make sure you give yourself ample time to listen, take notes, reflect, and digest all of the information.
4. Vulnerability
Did you think you were going to get out of here without seeing this word? I hope not, because it’s essential.
At its core, vulnerability requires us to do something scary: willingly expose ourselves to the potential for harm. If we have little experience with harm then this is easier, but I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that isn’t the case for anyone reading this. We’ve all been harmed by someone, even ourselves, and our desire and willingness to experience that again is probably low if not nonexistent. However, if we are going to design a community that includes more than just ourselves then we must grapple with the notion of baring ourselves to other people and trusting that they will regard us with warmth, curiosity, and recognition. It also means that we are asking others the do the same with us and we have a responsibility to provide those qualities in return. Remember that the encyclopedia etymology of community means that we are not only sharing space but also serving one another. Offering vulnerability is one kind of service; it says, “I trust you.” Receiving vulnerability is another; it says, “You can trust me.”
Lilith learns lessons in vulnerability throughout Dawn in ways that at times are predictable and at other times are shocking, pleasantly surprising, downright gut-wrenching, and deeply stirring. All of those experiences were paramount in her development and adaptation and we are no different. Octavia Butler is masterful with her descriptions of the human experience and I identified with Lilith so strongly throughout the book that I wondered if she were peering into my soul the entire time. (Again, I don’t want to give away the plot because I want you to read it, but there is a scene in Dawn that kinda reminded me of a scene in Demolition Man and now you have to read it because as soon as you do you’ll know what I’m talking about. And go watch Demolition Man if you haven’t!)
While I was driving to Chicago for CiderCon® I listened to Dr. Richard C. Schwartz’s You Are the One You’ve Been Waiting For. I came across it while looking for books that directly discussed community development and healthy interaction between people, and it impacted me so profoundly that I texted my girlfriend group chat about it immediately upon arriving at the hotel. It deals directly with romantic relationships—couples, specifically—but just like the Workplace Change workshop it held wisdom that I believe could be applied to every one-on-one relationship.
The overarching thesis that I gleaned from Dr. Schwartz’s book is that if we do the inner work of accepting and loving all of the parts of ourselves, it makes us more willing and able to fully engage in relationships with others because we aren’t relying on them for our happiness. They don’t complete us, they complement us. The quote below describes the outcome of digging into the deeply introspective process he delineates in the book:
When this process of vulnerability and acceptance is mutual, couples form such a secure connection that their protectors relax, and their young parts know it’s safe to pop out at any time. You may know a couple whose relationship seems full of lively spontaneity and creative playfulness. They literally bring out the best in each other because they each know that all their parts are welcome to step into the warm, safe space between them. Their interactions have the feel of an improv ensemble, with a wide variety of characters jumping excitedly onto the stage and playing off each other.
Dr. Schwartz goes into great detail defining concepts such as “protectors” and “young parts” in the book, but basically those are the aspects of our psyche that keep us safe and the aspects of our psyche that we feel need to be kept safe, respectively. Sometimes they do things we don’t want them to, but if we’ve reverted to them our entire lives it can be immensely difficult to break those habits. Those protective measures are usually what get in the way of vulnerability, for ourselves and the people with whom we are forming and sustaining community. Both people have to do the work in order to see the playfulness he describes on the other side, and he posits that it is possible to get to the other side.
I believe it is as well, and I believe we all deserve to experience it.
This time I only have one question for you:
What gets in the way of your ability to sit with discomfort, accept/offer critique, engage in healthy conflict, and/or embrace vulnerability?
Yes, it’s a compound question. You can do it. If it’s easier sending me a message rather than comment publicly please do so. I would love to learn from you.
Thank you for reading through to the end. I hope it was meaningful for you.
Cheers!
Olivia