Call it brave. Call it stupid. Call it empowered. Or maybe stirring the pot. Whatever it is, it has me “voicing” my opinion a little more on social media lately.
Which is why, when I came across a comment that seemed narrow and critical on a Facebook thread about an issue important to me, I couldn’t let it be. So I typed my respectful but straightforward response, took a deep breath, and clicked “post.”
And then I panicked. I should be a peacekeeper. In other words, the recovering people pleaser in me shouldn’t rock the boat, but should instead stuff my feelings and avoid conflict. Except repressed opinions or thoughts doesn’t really lead to peace. At least not for me.
So, I pulled myself together, told my husband I’d done it again, and remembered to breathe. I’d stirred the pot. I’d stuck my neck out. Opened myself up for further criticism.
Sure enough, about 75 seconds later, there was a response to my comment. And it read as I expected it to. The author seemed defensive and ended by telling me I could choose to be offended if I wanted.
My initial responses were frustration, anger, increased defensiveness in myself. I felt a need to keep explaining why I felt as I did. I felt a need to put her in her place because I was right, of course. (Please read sarcasm there.)
I was mad. Exasperated. Adding reason #68 to eschew social media. And maybe people.
This was a social media situation that was primed to escalate and turn out badly.
So what should I do?
I stared at that response for 4 whole minutes, which felt like the longest emotional roller coastal I’d ever boarded.
What should I do?
I was about to write it off. I was going to close my laptop and leave it be. I’d rocked the boat enough. Stirred the pot enough. I would simply file this away as a failed attempt to broaden conversation and illuminate where another perspective might be possible.
And then I was typing again. I can’t claim responsibility in generating my next move. It came from someplace different or deeper than my conscious mind or adolescent emotions were allowing.
“Thank you for clarifying. I understand the need for exploration and wrestling.” Click.
75 seconds later, she had sent a second reply. This time the tone seemed completely different to me. This woman was apologizing for any offense she caused and added important understanding as to why she made the comments she made.
I was floored. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that the same person had written those two responses minutes apart.
And right there, in that moment, I knew something I had known before and needed to reminded of again.
Kindness matters.
A willingness to lay down our defenses can diffuse the tension.
Acknowledging someone’s viewpoint is powerful.
No matter how much I think I might know, I don’t know everything.
It’s more important to listen than to be heard.
I control me, and only me.
First impressions can be dead wrong.
Enemies might just be friends waiting for permission to express their perspective.
When I refused to enter into the debate any further and simply acknowledged this woman’s journey, things changed. I put on my big girl pants and laid down my right to be right.
And lest you think I alone salvaged this interaction, don’t miss the fact that this woman also showed up with her big girl pants too. She took responsibility for the effect her words had, intended or not. She owned up, said she was sorry, and increased her vulnerability by telling more of her story.
Do we realize that many social media wars can be neutralized if we practice kindness, understanding, and humility? Are we willing to hear someone else regardless of whether we get heard? Mutual shouting just makes noise. Mutual name calling just reduces our humanity. Refusing to acknowledge different perspectives just leaves us isolated, angry, and bitter.
We are better than this...if we want to be. If we choose to be. But it requires everybody showing up to the party with their big girl and big boy pants.
I am not an expert at this social media deal. As evidenced by the inordinate amount of anxiety it creates for me that I then tend to mismanage.
What helps me is to remember this - there are real people behind that comment that rubs me the wrong way. Real people with real stories and real feelings. And that makes me want to show up. It makes me want to fight...not with them, but for them and alongside them.
I sometimes feel social media should come with a warning label. It’s not for the faint of heart. But neither is doing the right thing, doing the respectful thing, and sacrificing my need to be heard.
So, I’ll do what I can. I will keep showing up and put on my big girl pants. I will risk stating my opinion with respect and I will listen to others. And sometimes, thanks to a tense Facebook post turned love fest, I'm reminded that we all just might make it after all.
"Lord, make me an instrument of your peace:
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen."
- St. Francis of Assisi -
