My partner and I have been building a new client site, and after the first 10 hours of work, we had some of our members look at it. They were totally confused about what it was.
THANK. GOD. for feedback! I would’ve kept going with my design trajectory, and the deeper I would’ve gone, the more attached I would have gotten, and the more catastrophic the results would have been. Rather than beating myself up or saying “maybe I can’t do this,” I stepped back for several days, self-soothed my bruised ego, let the feedback sink in, asked more questions, got solid in identifying where I had to get out of my own head, shifted, and redesigned the site. After a few more key notes from clients – also life saving – the “final” output that we are currently rolling out is getting sweet, delicious feedback.
One evening, a week ago, I got lost in a dialogue inside of a private Facebook group.
In this long thread, two woman shared some things. You could tell they meant them from the heart… yet they were so blinded by privilege, it really hurt to read. The cringe factor was awkwardly high.
What ensued was some serious schooling by other women that evening. It was difficult to witness because the two women got very defensive. I knew quite a few of these women, so I was drawn in. Their voices projected a mixture of disbelief, anger, clarity, firmness, accountability, and tough love. No one attacked their be-ing. I take it back. One woman did towards the end, probably out of sheer frustration. I don’t know if the two women were able to take the feedback as a wake up call to do some reading and inquiry after that night. I understand that it would be difficult to be open at the moment (clearly they were blind-sided), but the next day, or the day after that, hopefully the defensive posturing melted and they became open to looking at what everyone else was trying to say.
I’ve gotten plenty of feedback on my gender pronoun confusion by my daughter. I make mistakes all the time, and sometimes I want to defend myself, but I don’t. No reason to explain why I can’t get it right…that’s really not the point, and I know that. Though as I write this, what hit me is that I can commit harder. I only hadn’t because… wait for it… “it doesn’t affect me.” Shit. (That sentence was hard to type out, and I have a strong urge to delete it.)
My daughter, when she corrects me, isn’t sweet about it, nor is she hateful or judging. She doesn’t excuse me or tell me it’s okay. She comes at me with an assumption that I’m not fragile, and that I’m open and can be held accountable. She uses the right amount of firm (which is “very”), she’s succinct, and she’s totally unapologetic about it. She wakes me up, makes me pay attention, and want to do better the next time.