Weeknotes S12 Ep4

There will be a cost.

Part 1 of 3. A screenshot from Seerut K. Chawla on instagram shared by Lauren Currie which reads: “Not being true to yourself comes at a personal cost — Sacrificing authenticity for acceptance — Compliance & conformity — The pain of swallowing truth — Hiding parts of yourself which reinforces shame & fear around them — Choosing what other people think of you over what you think of yourself — Inhibited autonomy & agency.”

It’s been a rough week. There have been a few different reasons for that which I’ve been attempting to work through. I’ve also been wondering, how can I write my weeknotes about this stuff in a sensitive and workable way? How can I write this without shame, blame or accusation? How can I be generous to others while also being generous with myself?

Part 2 of 3. A screenshot that reads: “Authenticity has a cost too — Not being universally liked & accepted — The pain of rejection & being misunderstood — Being attacked by people whose conformity is threatened by your autonomy — In this climate, you’ll probably get cancelled — The pain of losing relationships — You sacrifice group acceptance for autonomy & agency — You choose freedom over being liked” I’m not entirely sure I agree with the notion of being cancelled for various reasons so the wording is a bit harsh for me, the sentiment is what I’m referring to here.

How can I explain the things that have happened which have made me feel uncomfortable and work through them?

I’m not sure I have the answer to that still. But these lovely snippets of advice by Seerut K. Chawla (that Lauren Currie recently shared on Instagram and also with an attendance list of 600(!!) women at her Visibility masterclass on Wednesday night) are helping me to find the way to talking about it.

I recently wrote how when I shared a piece of work I’d done on LinkedIn, people who I didn’t know jumped in and started to tell me I didn’t understand what I was talking about.

I found those comments hard but decided to engage in a way that felt polite, generous, and (I hoped) wouldn’t elicit any more negativity — however upset I was and how frustrating I actually found it.

I felt that if I were to respond in any other way, that it was unlikely to go well for me. But it also felt inauthentic to hide and make my responses palatable, for fear of more personal damage. I found the whole thing incredibly stressful as it felt like I was being forced back into my box; don’t share, don’t have ideas, don’t learn or try, and be grateful of our expertise and ‘advice’.

It’s also interesting to me that when Ben, my collaborator on that work, shared it on LinkedIn that he only got one comment on the article — which was positive.

I guess this was the first time in a while where I’ve found that being authentically me; sharing something for discussion, working in the open, was met with rejection. It left me questioning why I had shared the work, wanting to hide it away again and to hide myself away. It left me feeling like everyone would think I was stupid. Feeling small. Feeling scared.

A similar thing happened to me this week. I was asked to participate in a pilot for something. I noticed a lack of diversity in the thing and, feeling that it was really important to the success of the pilot (and also just important full stop), I called out the areas that I felt were problematic.

I did this in what I (now) believe was a powerful way.

At least, it must have been, because the organiser sought me out over email asking me to remove the comments. I made some suggestions, which lead to some changes, but was also told that I was inciting others not to take the pilot seriously, my comments were destructive, and that I was being unfair and disrespectful (these are the actual words used). Not because the issue didn’t exist, but for the way in which I had called it out.

Part 3 of 3. A screenshot that reads: “You can’t avoid a cost. you can only decide which one you’re willing to pay.”

Now, I achieved what I hoped to; I got changes that I felt were needed, made. And I was true to myself; being an ally and not letting it pass without comment.

But it came at a distinct personal cost. The accusations were personal (hidden, not public), they made me question myself, my motives and my approaches. How I felt this person saw me and how I see myself were at direct odds and I found it extremely hard. I’m still finding it hard.

The personal pain and anxiety has been real. Even writing this feels like a risk.

I feel like I’ve been quietened. I know I’ll stop and think twice about when and how I communicate my allyship from here onwards. About how to make my opinions palatable so as not to cause that personal harm to myself again. It also makes me very sad to write that down here.

Thank you to anyone who’s helped me this week. To the few trusted people who have asked questions and listened and reassured. For listening and not judging me as I work through it.

I never intended to “build my brand”, or become a person that people recognise. I just wanted to write and talk and learn and meet people.

But somehow my twitter following has bubbled up to a number, and that makes me worry that if I step into my confidence and act in ways that feel authentic to me, that the clap back will continue to be harsher, and I’m deeply uncomfortable with how others’ opinions of me are completely outside of my control.

I kinda wish I could crawl back under a rock. It would be much easier.

If there is always going to be a cost — what am I willing to pay? I have no idea.

And what else?

Nourishing chats with Nikki from my MOE Foundation coaching course and with @jukesie.

I attended some of Nour Sidawi and Thea Snow’s One Team Gov session “Shifting the Powerplay in Co-design”

A screenshot of people’s concepts of what power is, taken from the session with Nour and Thea.

The session featured a run through of a really thought provoking game by Lauren Weinstein which you can find out more about via the link below:

Shifting the Powerplay in Co-design

In the game you have a set of cards and choose how to use your cards to help you in a specific situation, you can only choose different cards to the other people in your group.

The first scenarios was about making a late-career change, the second was about getting into a spot of criminal bother.

A picture of the power cards. I drew out my power cards to play the game, as I chose Money and Assets, Experience, Reputation and Public Regard, and also Networks of people who hold power I played and lost them all.

You choose the card(s) you’re going to play and if they match the cards for that scenario you get to choose more, increasing your power. If your cards don’t match then you lose the ones you played, and your power or options are depleted.

It was fun to play (even if I did immediately loose 3 cards) but more interesting to reflect on how you felt at different points and why. Did we play what our gut said based on our own situation, or try to game the system by imagining what we might do if we had more power? Did we want to accumulate power, feel protective of loosing it, or want to give it away? Who created cooperatives and collaborations? And why didn’t more people think of that?

I’m really interested to hear Thea and Nour’s thoughts and reflections in their write up.

Anyway, that’s probably enough for today. Have a lovely weekend — do something you enjoy, hug the people you love, be kind to yourself (these notes are for me, but you can do them too if you want).

Additional note 6/6/21

These weeknotes are my personal reflections on my week. I know that as a white woman, these personal reflections of my acute discomfort and pain are nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the discrimination and systemic disadvantage that others face. These weeknotes have garnered some attention and I don’t believe it would be right not to call that out here. I see you, and send you my love x