John and I were recently in Chicago celebrating our second-born’s college graduation, which was a week after the college graduation of our “second middle” in State College, Pennsylvania, and a week before the high school graduation of our youngest in North Texas. Sometimes, when we’re in different cities, we like to visit properties to inspire the next chapter of our life together. On Saturday morning, while John wrapped up a call, I entered the lobby of a high-rise apartment building to ask a question.
The lobby was empty except for two young women who looked to be waiting for a ride. There was one attendant—a tall white woman with a serious countenance and an accent I couldn’t quite identify. She was helping a resident figure out how to get his rather unwieldy package through the door and up to his apartment, which took a few minutes. I stood in silence, patiently waiting for her to finish and acknowledge me.
After the man walked away, she began fumbling with her computer and shuffling papers. About two more minutes passed without a greeting. I noticed the heat rise in my body, much like the feeling I get when fellow passengers mindlessly step in front of me in the boarding lane at the airport. I see your ticket, Sir. Get thee behind me.
She’s really going to ignore me, I thought indignantly. Just then, John pushed the revolving door open and immediately approached her. She answered his question and, because he asked, handed him the leasing manager’s business card. To me, she seemed reluctant. Lackluster. Certainly not how you’d expect a person representing a business to respond. I shot her a very obvious side eye and followed John out onto the sidewalk.
“She didn’t seem too enthused about helping us,” I remarked as we crossed the street to catch a ride back to our hotel.
“Why do you say that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Her energy was off,” I responded.
“Do you realize this is the third time you’ve done that today?” he added.
“Done what?” I shot back, feeling offended without yet knowing why.
“Assumed the worst about someone’s intent.” He smiled when he said it, which is his way of softening the blow.
The answer was no. I didn’t realize it. I asked him to recount the other times for me, and because I know how important it is to reflect when I receive difficult feedback, I paused for a moment to think. Was it true? Did I assume malicious intent without any evidence? He clearly didn’t catch bad vibes from the woman at the desk. Was he not as sensitive to it? Or was I too sensitive?
Being overlooked one too many times means I am emotionally reactive to being ignored. I know this about myself, but I don’t always catch it. If I think someone is consciously avoiding me—neglecting to make eye contact, helping other people before me (when I arrived first), failing to acknowledge my presence, responding to me in a less-than collegial tone—it makes me feel disrespected. And when I feel disrespected, I retreat. I “steel” myself. And if I’m feeling particularly spicy, I’m going to make them wrong.
I raise my shield.
Not everyone responds this way. I happen to have a (mostly!) peacemaker spirit. Others have a warrior spirit, which is equally valuable and sometimes more appropriate, depending on the situation. For those with a warrior spirit, being disregarded may provoke a more active defense reaction. They may fight back. They may also “fight forward,” or advance toward their perceived adversary.
They wield their sword.
For a peacemaker like me, sword fights can be uncomfortable. It’s not that I don’t respect the role they play in the pursuit of fairness. I do. But just like I sometimes raise my shield prematurely or unfairly, warriors can wield their swords too swiftly or cut too deep. Shield raising is often (unfortunately) an unconscious act for me, but I contemplate sword fights with caution.
I took a break from social media last week because the swords were out in full force after a popular influencer posted something that didn’t appear to be—but ultimately was— controversial. At first, I simply observed the various responses. There were replies and reshares and remixed videos ranging from uncompromising support to wholesale condemnation. My spirit was irritated, and I tried—in the spaces I occupy—to bring balance to the conversation, which in turn, got me pseudo-dragged. Dang. Can we not have a balanced conversation about anything anymore? (I know the answer to this, by the way.)
We are living in such fraught times that one wrong move, one inelegant expression, one poorly framed thought, one bad joke can turn a hero into a has-been. Is it fair? I don’t think so. But social media is an amplifier. Every hint of joy becomes a haven. Every ounce of pain becomes a battlefield.
Let’s be honest: It’s easier to back away from the fight. To withdraw or hide or mark a tighter circle around your heart and your help. To stop speaking up. To cease advocating for people you fear may replace all the good things you’ve ever given with the one thing they reject, then campaign to convince people you were always more of the one thing.
How does this serve us? What are we really looking for when we raise our shields? Does it make us safer? Give us more control over our interactions? Rationalize our fear of rejection? Make us feel validated in our withdrawal?
What are we looking for when we wield our swords? Does it inspire accountability? Does the shame it sometimes elicits balance the invisible scales somehow? Does it make us feel more righteous?
What would it take to lay down both our shields and our swords? These are the things I think about when considering how we engage one another in real life and in social media. There’s no shortage of strong opinions on just about everything. There is, however, a shortage of grace. Of curiosity. Of reconciliation. I know. Sometimes I’m the one doing the shorting.
If you recognize yourself in either scenario, allow me to offer a few simple reminders that help me center myself when the air gets thick:
- Not everyone is out to get you. People are dealing with their own stuff.
- You can create the very thing you are trying to avoid when you fixate on it.
- No one, not even you, is above the occasional misstep. Most of us are doing our best to be our best. The grace you give is the grace you get. It’s karma.
- Consider someone’s full body of work instead of just their latest assignment.
- When it comes to social media, ask yourself how you’d respond if an incident took place in the real world, and move forward from that place.
Triggers are everywhere, and the collective trauma is real. But each of us can control our reactions to those triggers, and in doing so, we might make space for more love. More kindness. More forgiveness. More connection.
I’ll go first.
Tara Jaye Frank
