It's Not You, It's Me

Recent discussions in the swing dance community have centered upon how we can be more inclusive of people of diverse gender identities and sexualities. In particular, the discussion has focused on whether/how to rename the swing dance competition style that's usually called a Jack & Jill to something that doesn't have gendered names in it (here is a summary of the issue if you're not familiar with the issue; reader discretion advised for reading the comments depending on how much you enjoy watching people fight on the internet).

But my post isn't about whether/how to rename a swing dance contest.

It's about a related issue: Taking things personally. It's about the importance of remembering that your reaction to a charged statement—no matter whether you're angry, impassioned, ambivalent, motivated, apathetic, incredulous, insulted, excited, or something else—that your reaction is about you. Although you may think you are reacting to the other person's statements, you're not. And they're not reacting to you either; they're reacting to themselves. Once you examine your reactions in the context of your own experience rather than blaming other people or situations for them, you have a chance to find more peace and equilibrium.

This advice is especially useful if you are not someone who has a personal (as in personal identity) stake in the game. If you are from a majority group and find yourself having a strong negative reaction, examine why. Look inward; why are you so against changing something that negatively impacts others? 

And if you are among the marginalized groups, the agreement to not take things personally can help guard against internalizing negativity from other people who are telling you that you are wrong or bad for just trying to be yourself in public. It is a terrible misuse of the agreement to say "don't take it so personally" and to mean "please dismiss/change/hide your personal identity because I don't like it or it is against my beliefs." So if you are on the receiving end of such a condescending and dismissive statement, please don't buy it. Because perhaps you are questioning or unsure of your personal identity—if you did take their words to heart (this is part of what the agreement means by "taking things personally"), it might cause you long-lasting emotional pain and suffering, which would be antithetical to the goal of supporting and uplifting ourselves and our fellow humans in all their diversity.

A Seemingly Unrelated Example

Sometimes having an example that doesn't stir you up makes the premise easier to internalize. Something happened to me recently on the playground with my son that struck me as analogous.

It started when my 2.5-year-old son caught eye of another boy's ball. Despite the fact that we had our own very serviceable ball, my son followed that 6-year-old boy around plaintively declaring, "my ball!" I told my son that sorry, it wasn't actually his ball; we had our own ball; and we needed to respect others' property, but appeals to logic seldom succeed with the toddler set.

Eventually the older boy went to go ride his scooter. Conveniently, my son also had his scooter at the park. My son chased the older boy merrily, but the older boy was not impressed. Eventually the older boy stopped near to where his mother and I were both standing.

The older boy got off his scooter and said to my son in a rude tone, "Hey now, you had better stop copying everything I do!"

My son doesn't talk much yet, and I was standing right there, so I said, "Hey, that wasn't very nice...."

The other boy's mother interjected to say, "Excuse me! I can speak to my own child about his behavior!" And she turned her back on me to tell her son not to be so rude.

As I stood there duly chastised, I had the following thoughts:

• I was only trying to help! Why is she mad at me for wanting to help?
• The boy was being rude. Why was she treating me like I had done something wrong? 
• What right does this woman have to reprimand another adult? 
• I feel embarrassed that she yelled at me in public. 
• Doesn't parenting take a village? What's wrong with me saying something when a kid misbehaves, especially when it's to my child who lacks the verbal skills to speak up for himself? 

And as I stood there duly chastised, I also conjured the following counterpoints: 

• She is also trying to help by speaking to her son herself. She knows him; I don't.
• Doesn't she have the right to parent her own child just like I do? 
• Although she was short with me, maybe she has her reasons. She doesn't know whether I would have said something helpful. 
• It's okay to be embarrassed; sometimes people make mistakes, even me. That doesn't mean I'm a bad person. 
• Why do I have to be the one to say something to this kid I don't know when his own mother is literally standing right there? 

After the other mom was done talking to her son, I approached her and said, "I just wanted to say I didn't mean to overstep my bounds before. Thank you for telling me what you needed with your son." 

She visibly relaxed and started to apologize to me. She told me how many bad interactions she had had with other parents doing a poor job of reprimanding her children (who included two older kids, ages 11 and 14). 

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm not offended in the least that you said something. And actually your son did pretty good putting up with my son chasing him around for as long as he did. I'm sorry to hear you have had so many interactions with other parents doing a bad job of telling your kid what to do," I replied. "My son's only 2.5 and luckily that hasn't happened to me yet." 

We continued to talk and it turned out our views on kids "behaving badly" were very compatible. We've both taken child development classes, enough to know that it's developmentally appropriate and expected for them to copy each other when they're 2.5 and to defend their independence when they're 6. Kids are learning, and it's up to parents to help them learn; we don't need to blame parents for kids' behavior. The conversation ended on a positive note. 

It Was All About Me (and Her)

This is all to say: My reactions to this woman telling me to quit talking to her kid about his rude behavior toward my son were about me. 

• My experiences with talking to other people's children in the past have all been positive or neutral, so of course I expected it to be okay this time and was taken aback when it wasn't. 
• My response to feel upset and embarrassed at her remark was also about me, evidence that there are yet vestiges of perfectionism in me—by which I mean that when she stopped me from doing what I thought was the right thing to do it felt like she was telling me I was a bad person or a bad parent, and I didn't like that. 

And likewise, this woman's reaction to me was about her. 

• She had 14 years of experience as a parent during which numerous (likely well-intentioned) other adults had done a poor job of correcting her children's behavior, and she wanted to proactively defend her kid from that. 
• She also knows how many people blame the parents for their children's behavior, even when the behavior is developmentally appropriate. My interjection might have meant that I was saying she wasn't doing a good job as a parent. No wonder she'd acquired a steely, quick intervention to stop potential attacks and show her skills.  

For both of us, the situation was about trying to take care of our kids and raise them to be kind to each other. But I don't think we would have found our common ground unless I'd made the overture to apologize—and I wouldn't have had the emotional strength to apologize unless I understood not to take her behavior personally. 

Precisely because I didn't take her behavior personally, I was able to choose my next action rather than be forced by emotion. If I had let my hand be forced, I would have felt hurt, embarrassed, and offended at a single sentence from a stranger that questioned my parenting and carried that around with me into future interactions. Once I realized her behavior wasn't about me, I could let it go. I chose to apologize, because I wanted to make a connection with her—but I could have just said nothing and left, if that was what I needed in the moment. 

I Swear This Is Related to Your Life Even If You Don't Have Kids

So when you encounter a charged situation of your own—like, say, the latest discussion in the swing community over inclusive nomenclature—and you feel yourself get angry, scared, embarrassed, dismissive, mean-spirited, hurt, ashamed, or something else at what other people are saying, take a second to consider where that emotion is coming from. (Spoiler: The call is coming from inside the house!) 

This does not mean it's wrong to feel angry, scared, embarrassed, dismissive, mean-spirited, hurt, ashamed, or something else; all emotions are valid. However, in my experience, more constructive behavior and greater levels of personal sanity tend to emerge when we understand why we feel the way we do, rather than just reacting from a gut level. It is very hard to hear someone else's perspective when your reactions to yourself are so much louder. If you can separate your noise from the actions of other people, then you have a better chance of understanding someone else's perspective.

To all my friends on every side of any controversy, I hope that you are able to work through your relationship to yourself so that you can really hear other people. True connection is beautiful.