What happens when you find the courage to speak up, then no one listens

Even though it happened many years ago, my first public belittling is a memory that, when recalled, causes my chest to seize up and my heart to race like I am experiencing the whole dreadful thing all over again.

I had been blessed with a gem of a manager who had been an exceptional first coach and mentor, and had been given the freedom to share my thoughts in any forum because I was told that there was value in my unique perspective, and that I was valued as well. I had no problem doing this in meetings, perhaps because people and conversation did not scare me, but I found it difficult to start doing this in writing.

In the written form, an impression of my voice, or a manifestation of my 'voice' would remain indelibly, I would have no knowledge of whether the message was ever actually received, no ability to clarify if my thoughts were vague or unclear, and no control over how my words would be interpreted. To top it off, I also did not know what point-of-view (because I had many) would be most interesting for me to spend time writing about and also be appreciated by the reader. So I stalled, I made excuses only I knew about, I focused on tackling other things on my work to-do list and put the whole 'share your point of view on a meaty topic' thing on the back-burner until some event (and sadly I don't recall what the exact impetus was) created a space and time for my thoughts to flow. So I went for it.

The topic must have carried some importance or meaning to me at the time - I vaguely remember it having to do with the elements of a strong new product concept - and maybe there was also a lot of circuitous debate going on around me about said topic that seemed to be never-ending and therefore negatively affecting my ability to do good work. I must have spent a couple hours typing up a summary of my perspective because by then I had lots to say, and then another two and a half hours obsessing thinking about the best email subject line to increase the chances that the message would at least get opened and hopefully read. I was crazy nervous when I finally hit the send button, but mostly content and relieved. I'd accomplished something that I'd wanted to do, given full support to pursue, and would push me further along the road to being even more fully present, fully myself, in all aspects of my work.

I tried to move on to other tasks after that. It was just the beginning of the day and there was lots still to do. But I was dealing with a complex mix of new emotions as a professional; pride, fear, excitement, worry, hope - and was distracted for most of my remaining engagements.

In one of our many epic one-one-one check in meetings that almost always inevitably turned into a coaching session (which I loved!), my manager explained that the main purpose of sharing these perspectives was to get people to think about a topic in a new way so that the resultant conversations which needed to happen to move an initiative forward were enriched and ultimately, better decisions could be made. She also cautioned that we should never, ever do it for the response.

If you attach yourself and your emotions to the outcome, you'll find yourself feeling disappointed more often than not. Do it because you believe that it is the right thing to do and the team would benefit from having this information, bolstered by your thoughts.

Still, it was MY first time, and I was very much attached to the outcome. I absolutely wanted a response from someone...anyone... and I wanted it to be positive. A validation of my smarts and my bravery.

So when that response came in the form of a single sentence (which I paraphrase here because I have long deleted the correspondence and don't recall the exact subject of the POV) - "Thanks for sharing, but I'm not a fan of this approach" - I was devastated. Not crying on the floor unable to function devastated, but I was deeply disappointed and, to be honest, also a little hurt. In retrospect, the sender of that email, who was far more senior and had years and years of experience managing people and working in teams, could and should have displayed more empathy in responding to me. But I had no control over her reaction at the time and don't want to digress into the topic of empathic leadership here.

None of us have control over anyone's reactions to us and what we do. The only thing we have any control over is ourselves, how we condition ourselves to react to different situations, how we channel the emotions, and how we transform negative energy into positive energy... because negative energy is a huge waste.

Fast forward to today. Being able to articulate my thoughts in spoken or written word is not an act of bravery, nor is it something that I have to think about or prepare to do. Years of practice, coaching, a naturally feisty personality and a curious mind have made the act of sharing my perspective an almost thrilling experience. It gives me energy. But I would be lying to you if I said that criticism or dismissal of my thoughts in public forums (something that still happens to me, perhaps a little less frequently than before as I've learned to bring more nuance to how and when and to whom I share my thoughts) didn't hit me straight in the gut and for an instant, make me feel slightly less than.

It's okay though, because the feeling passes even more quickly than it took to type that last sentence, and I remind myself why I shared my thoughts in the first place (because I believed what I had to say was important and would help open people's eyes to a new perspective), I thank the person for their thoughts because they too, were courageous in sharing their dissent which also adds to everyone else's thoughts and to the broader conversation, and give myself a big, secret, internal hug for being vulnerably courageous.

If you're at the beginning of your own journey in finding the confidence to find your voice, check out this earlier post in which I share some of my experiences and thoughts on how to take the first step.

If you've found your voice and have experienced a dismissal of your thoughts, I'm curious about how you processed it and your thoughts on how to move on. Please share in the comments section below.

You call it taking things personal. I call it passion.

This was my actual response during a meeting when someone in a position of more senior leadership said "don't take it so personally" as I tried to defend a decision I'd taken that I was proud of, but he was not so sure about.

While I was uttering the words, I felt a strange mix of things - joy, courage and a tinge of fear...but mostly a bursting pride in my ability to quickly (and calmly) conjure the right words in the moment to defend my integrity.

Immediately after the words left my mouth, there was an audible gasp in the room followed by a brief and silent pause; from me, because I had nothing left to say, and from him, because I think that he was honestly quite #shooketh. The conversation proceeded normally after that, but I was left experiencing a mildly tingling sensation throughout my body, most probably from the adrenaline and dopamine surge triggered by my instinctual fight-or-flight response to that unexpected, highly charged and very public interaction.

After the meeting, several of my female peers cornered me - "Wow, I could have never done that. Good on you!" "I didn't like the way you were being spoken to, and was so glad that you defended yourself, but I would never have thought to say that out loud." [and my favorite...] "He always talks to people like that, yet you're the first person who has ever had the guts to put him in his place in public!"

Huh? But why?! So many why's... Why had I been the first person? Why was it an act of bravery to defend in that way? These questions lingered in my mind for several days after the incident. Sometimes I felt a bit of anger rise up in my chest because it wasn't the first time (nor will it be the last time!) that I had been told that I was taking something personally when in fact, I was simply putting forth a strong POV backed by clear data-based rationale, in a passionate way. It also wasn't the first time that a natural inclination or behavior of mine, was deemed brave.

The interaction conjured up vivid memories of an eerily similar incident which occurred several years prior. During a meeting in a cramped room with three other people, one of my direct reports turned to me to quietly ask a question about what was being presented - totally innocent... totally normal. Right? Not so in this case. I did not have a chance to respond to her when, without warning, the male chair of the meeting abruptly yelled, "Nikkia, why you are being so disruptive!" As you can imagine, I was completely floored... but not just because no sounds had actually escaped my lips, but because he was reared-up and angry as a result of what seemed like, a work-related, presumed infraction. There was no way that I could have been affected personally by this outburst because it had nothing to do with me really - my presence was just a catalyst. Nevertheless, an apology was most-definitely warranted because the interaction was inappropriate and because it negatively affected someone on my team who was worried that she had gotten me in trouble.

So I went to his office upon his request (which I should not have done... but now know better: always find a neutral location when trying to resolve conflict!) and he apologized. But then, just as I was about to get up to leave he explained, "you know you have a presence that can be sometimes disruptive, right?" And then I was like, "Uh huh? Okay. Goodbye."

In both of these examples, aspects of my being (not just my behavior) were being mutated and openly challenged because of unconscious bias. And I'm sure for many of you reading this, these experiences feel familiar. If I were a man, would my passionate defense of a POV be characterised as taking things personal, or would it be perceived as me being strong and leader-like? And what about that nasty word, "disruptive?" Now I get that this dude was going through something of which I had no influence nor control, but I believed then, as I do now, that because of the package that words come in (your look, the way you carry yourself, your accent, where you come from), a message can be perceived in dramatically different ways - on one side of the spectrum, additive, and on the other side, disruptive. This is unconscious bias... but more about that a little further down.

So what do we do with all of this? How can you effectively communicate to people who are mistaking your PASSION for taking things PERSONAL, that it's not okay?

Here are 3 things to consider based on my experiences, but as always, please feel free to share more.

1. It starts with self-awareness, because it is rarely about YOU - I know it sounds cliché , but knowing yourself deeply; your strengths, weaknesses and triggers, is the starting point in facing challenges and conflicts at work. If you're receiving constructive or negative feedback about something, you won't be able to control the manner in which the message is delivered, but if you understand what you're all about, you should be able to quickly suss out whether the feedback is relevant or whether it's a veiled attack on your character.
   
2. Understand unconscious bias and how prevalent it is - We aren't aware of this, but all of us possess some form of unconscious bias towards certain groups of people with which we have little social contact. At work, this bias permeates everything we do, and so we must all work actively to train our minds to combat it. Some organizations are ahead of others in implementing policies and instituting training to create more diverse and inclusive working environments (which is great), however many others are not there yet. So it's up to us as individuals to try to lead the change where we can and in our own ways. Feel free to take inspiration from my bold yet respectful retort ("Please don't take my passion for taking things personally) or if you're comfortable, you might even want to inquire genuinely "would you say that if I were a man?"... or you can educate yourself by hearing from advocates in the HR field who are trying to empower (love me some TED Talks)... or you can join communities on social media that are trying to bring about change.
3. Defend yourself - if not in the moment, then some other time - When a comment comes flying your way that is meant to tarnish your character, there will be no mistaking it. You will feel it in your bones. It will make you immediately uncomfortable and your automatic fight-or-flight response will kick into high gear as your mind and body react to the insult. In that moment, you may be the only person feeling disgraced. You may notice that no one has batted an eyelid and the conversation continues. This is commonplace because we are far from where we need to be in many work environments with regards to diversity, inclusion and true equality. If you feel it but are not sure, you might want to check in with a trusted colleague who was there to understand what their takeaways were from the incident in question. Be prepared however. You may not always get the response you expected. Whether confirmed or not, if you're unsettled to a point where your work is being affected, you might want to talk to your direct manager about how to proceed, or HR if you're comfortable. Finding time (and a neutral location) to talk with the person would be my next suggested step. With time, you'll find yourself gaining confidence at being able to deliver the feedback in the moment and in artfully smooth ways, instead of having to schedule a conversation later (something that can make the grievance feel larger and the confrontation scarier than it needs to be.)