SHOW ME I MATTER: Other Options to Calling Out
Excerpt from a deleted Storify article I posted after a Calling In workshop in 2015, incorporating tweets from participants.
...
Calling Out stops the harm and points attention to a violence, but it doesn't heal the pain. What's missing is some long-overdue healing. While a release of anger is sometimes very necessary and a great relief, it isn’t useful for every occasion. I like to ask myself, “Is this action for my pain or my anger?” It’s OK to need both, but it’s important that I am honest with myself. Otherwise, I am inadvertently held hostage by my rage, my grief, and the very ways of resolving conflict that I am trying to outgrow.
I need a toolbox that has more than just tools for dehumanizing others. My philosophy for myself is, if I'm going to tear someone to shreds, let it be consciously chosen. Let it not be because I have but one axe, and I swing it whenever something's wrong.
For many people, Calling Out has been their lifeline, the first and/or only chance to take their power back. When that is the case, Calling In might seem a terrible idea, or plain impossible. That’s not to say you're either Call In material or not. It is to say though, that if Calling Out feels like the only option at a given moment, some honesty and awareness would be good: "I'm treating you viciously not necessarily because you deserve it, and not necessarily because this is the only way to handle this. I’m treating you this way possibly because I don't have enough external community support, internal resources, or trust right now to do it differently."
It has to be OK to admit that systemic injustices wear us down, and that we have to do vindictive, vicious things in retaliation sometimes. But it has to stop being OK to pretend that it's the be-all and end-all of activism. That that is resolution, healing, or making real change.
Risking to find out you matter
Calling Out is already not easy: Confronting someone can be terrifying. But Calling In is even harder. It’s moving towards the pain and fear of not mattering.
Calling Out is a declaration that trust has been broken. Calling In is risking to build trust. Calling Out lets you point out someone's wrongs ("You treat us like we don't matter!"). Calling In means you have to stick around for them to answer the questions, "Do you want to do better? Do we matter?". Calling In is risking that they will say, "No". Calling In is risking to believe them when they say, "Yes".
Anyone who has ever lost trust in someone or something knows self-protection well. It says, "I'll risk trusting you when you show me you won't fail me (again)". But anyone who has ever successfully built trust also knows that trust only grows where there is risk. That risk is on us: The weary, the wary, the once- or many times burned. It's not fair, no. But it is the truth. And the only exit from the cycles of mistrust. The only way to end the need for larger and larger "safe spaces", which actually confer no greater safety, just less and less risk, less and less trust.
Feminism taught me that in the Intention-Impact tug of war, only impact matters. That giving weight to intention is to allow for excuses. But intuition tells me differently. Only focusing on impact is to say, I don't care about you, since you don't care about me. It's a classic hurt-person's refrain. Risking to believe someone's intention when the impact of their action is hurtful is to risk trusting that you matter. If we are to surpass the pervasive fear and shame in modern capitalist culture, we must stop interpreting every hurt as proof that we don't matter. Doing that only manifests communities that replicate our greatest fears.
Go sit beside them a.k.a. Ease your activist shame
How we treat someone who's made a mistake shows how we treat ourselves when we ourselves are wrong. If you find someone else’s error wincingly deplorable, what’s your relationship to your own fallibility? Do you expect others to be perfectly good and right because you work so hard to be?
Here's a metaphor: The teacher who "sandwiches" corrections between praise, careful to use the gentlest words, tip-toeing around the student's fragile ego. From this snapshot, we know nothing about the student's capabilities or intentions, but we know that this teacher, kind as they are, believes it's shameful to be wrong. The teacher’s wariness inadvertently teaches and transmits shame. In order to not infectiously pass shame on, should the teacher speak differently? Nope. But if the teacher can feel differently, it would help. With less internalized shame, a one-phrase correction can do the job of redirecting the student.
In real life, "activist shame" translates to perceiving every misstep as a big ordeal. I have seen people consider a call-out for weeks, consulting authorities and history books, crafting their lengthy public letter perfectly, chockfull of strong supporting arguments.
This is an antagonist model: It's a confrontation where I hit you with some serious bad news. Before I can even get to the point, I have already communicated that your mistake is grave and humiliating.
Why is it so bad that we're imperfect? That we're still learning, or that we have to learn something over and over? Why is it surprising that we are ignorant, lazy, thoughtless, or unkind sometimes? That we misuse and abuse power? Can I accept that some people don't like me, don't think I'm good enough? Can I accept that I sometimes hurt others?
Having less guilt and shame for being the imperfect activist/feminist/advocate/ good person that you are will actually help you be a better version of every one of those. It is a beautiful irony! It helps you be more flexible, more humble, more creative, more confident to learn, and more open. It allows you to connect with someone you're Calling In as a fellow human being, neither superior or inferior.
Imagine Calling In to be conversations not confrontations. Imagine sitting beside someone, instead of opposite to them. Imagine sitting beside yourself, too, when you’re the one who’s erred.
Calling In is a matter of alignment, and it can be as loving and open as any non-shaming conversation you might have. Imagine sharing information that's neutral, or what you might say to a friend. Imagine this yourself as compassionate and courageous as you’d like to be. Imagine all this because that's the only way to build communities that are resilient, creative, loving, and revolutionary. Imagine that!
Calling Out stops the harm and points attention to a violence, but it doesn't heal the pain. What's missing is some long-overdue healing. While a release of anger is sometimes very necessary and a great relief, it isn’t useful for every occasion. I like to ask myself, “Is this action for my pain or my anger?” It’s OK to need both, but it’s important that I am honest with myself. Otherwise, I am inadvertently held hostage by my rage, my grief, and the very ways of resolving conflict that I am trying to outgrow.
I need a toolbox that has more than just tools for dehumanizing others. My philosophy for myself is, if I'm going to tear someone to shreds, let it be consciously chosen. Let it not be because I have but one axe, and I swing it whenever something's wrong.
For many people, Calling Out has been their lifeline, the first and/or only chance to take their power back. When that is the case, Calling In might seem a terrible idea, or plain impossible. That’s not to say you're either Call In material or not. It is to say though, that if Calling Out feels like the only option at a given moment, some honesty and awareness would be good: "I'm treating you viciously not necessarily because you deserve it, and not necessarily because this is the only way to handle this. I’m treating you this way possibly because I don't have enough external community support, internal resources, or trust right now to do it differently."
It has to be OK to admit that systemic injustices wear us down, and that we have to do vindictive, vicious things in retaliation sometimes. But it has to stop being OK to pretend that it's the be-all and end-all of activism. That that is resolution, healing, or making real change.
Risking to find out you matter
Calling Out is already not easy: Confronting someone can be terrifying. But Calling In is even harder. It’s moving towards the pain and fear of not mattering.
Calling Out is a declaration that trust has been broken. Calling In is risking to build trust. Calling Out lets you point out someone's wrongs ("You treat us like we don't matter!"). Calling In means you have to stick around for them to answer the questions, "Do you want to do better? Do we matter?". Calling In is risking that they will say, "No". Calling In is risking to believe them when they say, "Yes".
Anyone who has ever lost trust in someone or something knows self-protection well. It says, "I'll risk trusting you when you show me you won't fail me (again)". But anyone who has ever successfully built trust also knows that trust only grows where there is risk. That risk is on us: The weary, the wary, the once- or many times burned. It's not fair, no. But it is the truth. And the only exit from the cycles of mistrust. The only way to end the need for larger and larger "safe spaces", which actually confer no greater safety, just less and less risk, less and less trust.
Feminism taught me that in the Intention-Impact tug of war, only impact matters. That giving weight to intention is to allow for excuses. But intuition tells me differently. Only focusing on impact is to say, I don't care about you, since you don't care about me. It's a classic hurt-person's refrain. Risking to believe someone's intention when the impact of their action is hurtful is to risk trusting that you matter. If we are to surpass the pervasive fear and shame in modern capitalist culture, we must stop interpreting every hurt as proof that we don't matter. Doing that only manifests communities that replicate our greatest fears.
Go sit beside them a.k.a. Ease your activist shame
How we treat someone who's made a mistake shows how we treat ourselves when we ourselves are wrong. If you find someone else’s error wincingly deplorable, what’s your relationship to your own fallibility? Do you expect others to be perfectly good and right because you work so hard to be?
Here's a metaphor: The teacher who "sandwiches" corrections between praise, careful to use the gentlest words, tip-toeing around the student's fragile ego. From this snapshot, we know nothing about the student's capabilities or intentions, but we know that this teacher, kind as they are, believes it's shameful to be wrong. The teacher’s wariness inadvertently teaches and transmits shame. In order to not infectiously pass shame on, should the teacher speak differently? Nope. But if the teacher can feel differently, it would help. With less internalized shame, a one-phrase correction can do the job of redirecting the student.
In real life, "activist shame" translates to perceiving every misstep as a big ordeal. I have seen people consider a call-out for weeks, consulting authorities and history books, crafting their lengthy public letter perfectly, chockfull of strong supporting arguments.
This is an antagonist model: It's a confrontation where I hit you with some serious bad news. Before I can even get to the point, I have already communicated that your mistake is grave and humiliating.
Why is it so bad that we're imperfect? That we're still learning, or that we have to learn something over and over? Why is it surprising that we are ignorant, lazy, thoughtless, or unkind sometimes? That we misuse and abuse power? Can I accept that some people don't like me, don't think I'm good enough? Can I accept that I sometimes hurt others?
Having less guilt and shame for being the imperfect activist/feminist/advocate/ good person that you are will actually help you be a better version of every one of those. It is a beautiful irony! It helps you be more flexible, more humble, more creative, more confident to learn, and more open. It allows you to connect with someone you're Calling In as a fellow human being, neither superior or inferior.
Imagine Calling In to be conversations not confrontations. Imagine sitting beside someone, instead of opposite to them. Imagine sitting beside yourself, too, when you’re the one who’s erred.
Calling In is a matter of alignment, and it can be as loving and open as any non-shaming conversation you might have. Imagine sharing information that's neutral, or what you might say to a friend. Imagine this yourself as compassionate and courageous as you’d like to be. Imagine all this because that's the only way to build communities that are resilient, creative, loving, and revolutionary. Imagine that!