The Confusing Meaning of "Open" Level Contests

Here's a thought experiment: A person is looking through the list of competitions at their favorite swing dance event and they decide to enter the "open" level contest of the levels available to them. The contest is described as being "open to all dancers." The person entering the open-level contest is most likely to be which of the following? 

1. an amateur dancer
2. an advanced, all-star, or pro dancer
3. information is not sufficient to answer

For many competitions, the answer is C. We can't tell from the information given whether the open contest at this event is the lower or higher level of competition—so we don't know whether that contest is a good fit for the person's skills. We need, at least, to know the names and descriptions of the other contest level(s) at the event to understand what "open" means in this question. We may also need to have other tacit knowledge of how the contest levels really operate—information that is not in the descriptions at all but has to be inferred or told to you. Which is a problem.

The Two Uses

But first, so we're all on the same page, here are the two uses of "open." At some events, “open” means “open to dancers of all levels, including both amateurs and professionals.” The comparison level is amateur (lower, in that it is available only to amateurs). In this case, the open level is the highest level of the levels available to choose from. (Invitational doesn't count because the organizers choose you; you can't choose it.) ABW and CalBal both use this model.

In contrast, sometimes the contest is labeled "open" and the description says "open to dancers of all levels"... but the comparison levels are advanced, all-star, and pro/invitational. In this case, the open level is the lowest level. ILHC and Snowball both use this model. 

So you can’t count on “open” always being open to all; “open” has to be understood in context of the other competition levels.

Is It a Problem to Have Two Uses of "Open" in the Swing Community? 

I do not think it is in and of itself a problem to have two meanings of "open" at use in the community. Plenty of words have multiple meanings. Sometimes the meanings of words are even contradictory. (Any person who read Amelia Bedelia may now recall the time Amelia "dusted" the furniture by throwing dusting powder on it ... as well as basically anything else Amelia ever did).

As long as you clearly and concisely define what you mean by "open" in the sentence the potential competitor is currently reading, you'll be fine. 

The problem is that many contest descriptions fall short of this benchmark, which leads to confusion and other potential negative effects. Both types of contest use the description "open to all dancers" or "open to all levels" but that's not accurate or specific enough right there in that sentence.

Open = Highest

When open = highest, the pool of dancers is conceptualized like this: Amateur dancers are defined as a subset of all dancers, and the contest is open to all dancers, including both pros and amateurs.

However, when open = highest, the open contest description usually does not compare the levels explicitly enough. I've stood next to dancers in an open = highest contest who were mortified to find themselves standing next to me, let alone next to their professional teachers. These people felt way in over their heads. Some of them were embarrassed. They expected the open = lowest model.

A small tweak to language might help. For open = highest, instead of saying "all dancers may compete in the open contest," be more specific and draw the right comparison. Say "All dancers may compete in the open contest, which typically contains a mix of intermediate, advanced, masters, and professional dancers. Dancers who wish to compete against only other amateur dancers and who meet the definition of an amateur [which organizers should also define] should enter the amateur contest."

Likewise, the amateur contest description could say, "Only amateur dancers [as organizers define this] are allowed to enter the amateur contest. Amateur dancers may also enter the open contest, which typically contains a mix of dancers of all skill levels, including masters and professional."

Open = Lowest

When open = lowest, the pool of dancers is conceptualized like this: Dancers are defined as discrete subsets by level. Levels do not overlap in a meaningful or intentional way. 

However, when open = lowest, the open contest description almost never (in my experience) accurately describes the pool of actual entrants. The description usually says "open to all levels," but that's not actually true. A better description for when open = lowest, is “all dancers who do not otherwise qualify for the advanced, all-star, and/or invitational levels may enter the open contest; dancers who qualify for advanced, all-star and/or invitational should compete at the appropriate level.”

With that description, I know before I sign up whether I can expect to be dancing next to my teachers. The description helps newer competitors especially avoid unnecessary confusion and invites them into a system where they know they will be competing against only other people of their same skill level.

What to Do

As long as you clearly define what you mean and do in practice, people will figure out what to sign up for and have a better time doing it.

Any of the following solutions would be fine with me as an event attendee, competitor, and language enthusiast. 

1. Contest organizers clarify what is meant by “open,” for example, as described in this post. Explain exactly who will be allowed to enter this contest right there in the contest description. Then people do not need to read between the lines. 
2. Organizers reserve the term “open” for contests without levels. For example, an event with only one competition might call it Open Couples to emphasize the contest is open to all and you enter as a couple. Upon cursory investigation, attendees see there is only one level, so the meaning of “open” is obvious because there is no comparison.
3. Events that use levels in contests choose names that are logically parallel and don’t require contextualized inference of meaning. Examples are novice, amateur, advanced, all-star, pro/invitational.

What Not to Do

Do not use "open" as a verb, as in "the amateur contest is open to amateur dancers, and the open contest is open to all dancers." Just rewrite the sentence. There are already two meanings of "open" in the broader community that using "open" as a verb adds an unnecessary extra layer.

I do not think we need to standardize the language across all swing events (unless everyone agrees this is necessary, which I don't think is the case at this point in time). The overlapping levels approach and the discrete levels approach are both valid ways to structure a contest. They have different pluses and minuses and create different experiences for competitors. Diversity has merit.  

For example, when the contest term "Jack & Jill" went out of use in the swing community, many terms sprung up in its wake, including mixed couples, mix and match, and luck of the draw.  But because the descriptions for these contests say things like "people sign up individually and are paired with a random partner," there is no confusion for each specific case. The description in front of you tells you what you are getting into. 

Simple amendments to language for the meaning of "open" will help.

Why This Matters (to Me)

Competitors deserve clear definitions of terms.

Everyone should be able to make the right decision about putting themselves out there in a competition. They should feel like they were treated fairly and had a good time for any money and effort they spent. They should understand what they're looking at without needing someone in the know to explain it to them or having to read between the lines.

Although it's possible to figure out what's going on,  my experience tells me at least some people don’t understand until it’s too late to change their decision.

The solution is not to make people do mental gymnastics. That’s a deterrent to new and potential competitors—which is bad for the health of our scene. Clearer and more precise language is an easy and effective solution. It harms no one to be more clear. That's why I think we should at least try to do better.

Partager Ses Impressions: When to Give Feedback Flowchart, Version Française

A reader of my blog contacted me to translate my When to Give Feedback flowchart into French. Merci, Franck Wcs!

Le voilà! Voici l’organigramme pour savoir quand partager ses impression en danse, en français. Merci de travailler avec moi pour faire cela.



Vous pouvez télécharger l'organigramme pour l'utiliser dans vos propres cours et danses.

When to Give Dance Feedback: A Flowchart

As a teacher and student of partner dance—and a lover of flowcharts—I am intimately aware of the complexities of giving and receiving feedback. Many dancers are unaware (or neglectful) of the appropriate etiquette. Typically people are too quick to offer unsolicited feedback or too quick to assume that others will want their feedback. People are also often too slow to ask for the actual feedback they would like as well as reticent to speak up when they are in physical or psychological discomfort or pain.

So, I've crafted this flowchart about when to give dance feedback. (On the radar for the future is a chart about how to give feedback, which is another kettle of fish.) My hope is that it will help empower dancers to ask for feedback when they want it, direct the ensuing conversation toward their interests, and speak up for themselves in uncomfortable situations. I also hope that it will help dancers realize that others do not necessarily want their feedback and that not all settings are appropriate for giving feedback. I want dancers—nay, all people—to experience more personal agency in getting their needs met and respected by others.

Note from 4/9/19: In a discussion with a reader, another important consideration emerged: If someone requests your feedback, you should provide it only if you are willing and comfortable to do so. Just because a person asked for feedback (or met/didn't meet other criteria in the chart) does not mean that you are obligated to give feedback. The consent of both parties is essential. 

If you found this chart helpful, please feel free to download this chart for use in your own classes or dances.

On the Meaning of Competition Scores

I've recently had the opportunity to judge competitions at a number of swing dance events, including All Balboa Weekend, Balast Off, and the International Lindy Hop Championships. That means I've had to make some tough decisions regarding some amazing dancing, and I've also seen the impact that my scores have had on the competitors. I love judging competitions because it gives me an opportunity to (a) participate without the stress of making finals, (b) practice understanding and implementing my own values, and (c) share my opinions with my community about in which direction our dance ship should sail. I've heard many people respond for better and worse to the scores they received (not necessarily from me), so I'd like to  share some insights into what my competition scores mean. (Insert here a disclaimer that these are my opinions and other judges may [and probably do] feel differently.)

On Prelims

In prelims, judges are given a certain number of "yes" votes and a certain number of "maybe" or "alternate" votes by the contest organizer. So if you get a "yes" or a "maybe" from me as a judge in prelims, it means...

• When I was scanning the room looking for standout dancers, I noticed your dancing.
• Your technique, timing, and teamwork stood out in comparison with the other dancers'.
• On the basis of what I saw in prelims, I believe I can trust you to perform for the audience in finals.

If you didn't get a mark from me in prelims, it might mean that your technique, timing, or teamwork was not as good as the other competitors' or that I don't think your dancing is quite ready for an audience to sit and watch you. 

But there are other much more mundane reasons why you might not get a mark in prelims: 

• A crowded floor (such as with big heats) made it challenging to see everyone for a sufficient amount of time.
• I did see you, but not at the right time.
• An unusually large number of competitors entered the contest, meaning the number of dancers who get a callback is small. For example, in a prelim with 80 contestants, I may get only 12 yesses and 5 maybes.
• Many dancers are similar and I am forced to choose and I cannot choose everyone I liked.

On Finals 

In finals, judges must rank the dancers. Top placements mean much more than low placements. A high placement means...

• I enjoyed your dancing.
• You had great technique, timing, and teamwork (or at least these 3Ts were better than the alternatives).
• You went above and beyond the 3Ts with your level of difficulty or risk, performance quality, creativity, musicality, and individual and/or partnership voice. 
• Your dancing fit the parameters of the contest (e.g., in a Balboa contest, you are dancing Balboa...whatever that means to the individual judge!)
• I would show your dance to another person and say "that's great Balboa" or "that's great Lindy Hop." 

However, a low placement does not mean that I didn't enjoy your dance. It might mean...

• Your dance had technical or structural problems that other dances did not have or did not have to the same degree. Technical and/or structure problems are not moral failings. 
• Your dancing did not fit the parameters of the contest (e.g., dancing Boogie Woogie in a Lindy Hop contest, dancing Balboa too much like it's Lindy Hop). (This is also not a moral failing.)

Or a low placement might mean I didn't really like that particular piece of dancing because it wasn't in alignment with my values. There's no rule that everyone has to like everything. And if I didn't like a particular dance in a particular contest, that doesn't mean I dislike all your dancing all the time or that you are a bad person or a bad dancer. My opinion is not an indication of a moral failing on your part.

Rocks and Hard Places

The nature of a contest means that I am forced to choose. I often like different dances for different reasons, and my job is to choose which value(s) to prioritize when making my rankings. The values being prioritized differ depending on the judge and can even vary within the same judge depending on the exact dances within a particular contest. For example, when I am judging, I value partnering skills above, say, level of difficulty or risk. If all the competitors demonstrate great partnering, then the dancers who took more risks or had a higher degree of difficulty will probably place higher than dancers with less difficult or risky dances. However, it is challenging to weigh a dance with lots of difficulty and risk but less than optimal partnering against a dance with great partnering that was easy and kind of dull...how the placements sort out will depend on the particular dances in question. 

Moreover, it's important to remember (or realize!) that contest placements are made on an ordinal scale—they are in order, but the distinctions between 1st, 2nd, 3rd places and so forth cannot be meaningfully quantified. All of the dances might have been great, or there might have been one (or more) dances light years better than others. Sometimes I want to give all the dances third place. Nevertheless, as a judge I have been forced to choose to put the dances in order. The dances might have been so different than it's barely meaningful to put them in order at all, and yet into order they must go. 

Caveats and Provisos 

Judges give the scores in a contest, but should you trust their opinions? To a degree, yes. A good judge is a person with experience and expertise in the dance style of the contest. A good judge is able to know their own values and explain them to others. A good judge can critically evaluate others' dancing just by watching in a short amount of time and come to conclusions on the basis of their values and the evidence. A good judge is not afraid to make the decision they think is best on the basis of the dancing in that contest—not because of personal friendships, nepotism, or popular opinions. 

At the same time, judges are only human. We are not omniscient or infallible. Every time I judge, I wonder, "what will people think of my choices?" And then I try to make the best decisions I can anyway. We are doing our best—just like you are as a competitor—and once again, the nature of the contest format itself means that we are forced to choose. Even if we do not choose you, that does not mean that we do not like your dancing or value your contributions. 

Likewise, contests in and of themselves speak only to one aspect of dancing. A contest dance can't tell you whether a person is fun to dance with (although it might give you an idea). It can't tell you whether a person is kind, or thoughtful, or a good (dance) listener. Although swing dance contests have been around as long as swing dancing itself, social dancing, not contests, is the essence of dancing. Contests are meant to be fun. Although they do have influence over trends in the community and who is hired to teach or perform, they are not the ultimate arbiter of what is good and bad in swing. Do not ascribe more worth to them than they are due. Remember that the heart of the dance is on the social floor.

Making Meaning

So say that you understand that contests are not the be-all and end-all of dancing, but you still want to understand why you got a particular score. To make meaning of a judge's score, the best thing to do is to consider the result in the context of the judge's values. If you don't know that judge's values, ask them! Ask me! (This conversation is especially fun in person.) Get to know judges as people (I promise, we are people too). If you are an organizer, ensure you know the values of the people you ask to judge contests and that they know their own values too. Perhaps you discover that the judge's values do not match your own—that's okay! There is no rule that we must all agree about everything.  

Because even more important than the values of the judge are your own values and the values of the people you trust—and the judges of a particular contest may or may not be included in that list of "people you trust." (Remember, organizers are people too, and there may be constraints of which you are unaware, for example, about who is available to judge.) Although a good judge has credentials worth respecting, ultimately your own opinion matters the most, because your dancing is personal. It is yours to enjoy and care for over the years. 

Win or lose, the bottom line is this: Don't put your self-worth in the hands of other people, including competition judges. If you win, it feels great but you may lose the opportunity to take chances or make changes for fear of not winning anymore. If you lose, you may feel terrible about yourself, become discouraged, and even quit dancing. Instead, work to understand your own values and bring your dancing into alignment with them. Competitions are a fun way to perform for the community, but the meaning you make of them is up to you, and they are only a piece of the swing community experience. 

Dance your dance like no one is watching—even when someone is actually watching. 

Rediscover the Value of Friend-Dates

When's the last time you went on a date with a friend? Not a date-date, but a friend-date. Whether you're in a committed relationship or not, the friend-date is a wonderful thing to keep in your life. As we enter the end of winter (at least in the northern hemisphere), many of us are stuck inside because of cold weather with no holidays to look forward to. It's easy to go stir crazy. Seasonal affective disorder is real. Enter the friend-date.

The friend-date can take place in the real world or online via Skype, FaceTime, Google Hangouts, or any number of video chat services. Online is great because you can participate from anywhere and it doesn't have to cost anything. It can be hard to take that first step and reach out to people, especially if they are people you don't know well, but think about how you would feel if one of your friends reached out to you—excited, right? That is precisely how your friends will feel if you reach out. In an age where people are afraid of talking on the phone (myself included), sometimes it ends up that everyone is waiting for everyone else to make the first move, which means no one ever moves. We all sit at home wishing our lives were more interesting and full and convinced that we're missing out. Pretty much everyone feels the same way. Here's your chance to do something doable about it.

Of course you can do anything you want on a friend-date, including just talk, but I would love to hear some suggestions for online friend activities from you all. Many of you love games; what games work well online for a low investment of time and equipment? A few years ago a group of my friends loved playing Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes via Skype, so I can recommend that. Other ideas? Thanks all!

How to Listen Better

At some point I'm sure you've heard, or probably said, the words "you're not listening to me!"

Lately I've been thinking a lot about listening—on the bus home from work recently I witnessed a spectacularly bad interaction in which two strangers argued over whether racism existed in the United States, and it didn't end well because one of the people was not listening. I've also do a fair share of listening myself among my friend groups (I did go to counseling school for my master's degree, after all) and have been told it's been helpful. And I've gone to therapy and been listened to and seen the power of that.

So, here are some of my thoughts on how to listen better:

1. Don't argue with the other person's reality. 

When someone is telling you their story, you must remember it is their story, not yours. If you want to listen better, you have to accept that for this person, their version of events is the true version of events for them—even if you think their story is illogical or ridiculous or infuriating, even if the person has mental health problems that means they see the world through sad, anxious, hateful, or paranoid glasses.

2. Remember that acknowledgment does not equal agreement.

Acknowledging another person's reality through listening is different from endorsing it as objective truth (or as your own same subjective truth). For example, someone might tell you about how they were treated so unfairly by so-and-so for absolutely no reason, but you actually can think of several valid and rather unwholesome reasons why that person was treated as they were. Your reaction might be to argue with the other person or to dismiss their feelings as overblown or unimportant or pale in comparison to their own transgressions.

However, all of these reactions amount to you saying "your story isn't true; it doesn't matter; that's not how it really happened." If the person senses that reaction, they will feel like you aren't listening to them—because you aren't. Listening requires that you acknowledge that this person's story is true for them, but it doesn't require that you agree with the person's feelings, interpretations of events, or actions. However, if you want to have any shot of the other person listening to your interpretation of events, you must first do them the service of listening to their version—a two-way street.

3. Use mindfulness to moderate your personal reactions.

It is next to impossible to listen to someone else if the only person you are thinking about is yourself. And yet, it is also next to impossible to avoid connecting another person's story to your own story. If someone tells you about the pain they have experienced, you think of your own pain and how it was worse or better. If someone tells you about their abhorrent (to you) views, you think of all the reasons why you believe those views are wrong and merit that person being locked away for a long time, or at least banned from the internet. It's natural to evaluate what someone says in your own frame of reference, but you don't have to act on those evaluations right away. Listening requires that you wait a moment.

When dealing with intrusive personal reactions in a listening context, I recommend a mindful approach. Acknowledge and accept that you are feeling a reaction to the other person's story but not to let it pull you off course from listening to the other person for as long as you intend to be listening to them.

4. Listening begets listening. 

Once someone has had a chance to tell their story, they are more likely to listen to your story. If your story contradicts theirs, the door is open for you to change the person's perspective. Once you have listened, you can then say, "I hear you saying X, but I disagree about the interpretation or action you took as a result of that because of Y reasons." In all likelihood the other person will not be immediately swayed, which will require you to listen to their follow-up rationale if you want to have your rejoinder. At any point the system might break down, particularly if the other person is not a good listener themselves, but you will have tried your best.

5. You don't have to listen if you don't want to. 

Sure this whole post is about listening, but let's remember there is no law of the universe that says you have to listen all the time, or listen to everyone. Maybe the person speaking isn't worth your time. Maybe you're not in a healthy place to listen. Maybe the venue in which someone is speaking isn't conducive to effective listening (cough, most of the internet), and so you choose to participate or not participate in a discussion in other ways.

Listening is a choice. But if you do choose to listen, I think it's worth doing well.

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.