Listening is an Act of Love

I went to a women’s leadership conference B.C. (before corona) where I participated in an active listening workshop. We were instructed to pair up and take turns talking to our partner. When it was your turn to listen, your job was to focus all of your attention on the speaker. You weren’t supposed to interrupt, even to say “YES!” or “Me too!” You were not to think about what you might say in response, even how you had the same exact thing happen to you, what are the chances!?. 

When the speaker was finished you were to reflect back to them what they said. Full stop. You weren’t supposed to relate to their experiences or feelings. You weren’t supposed to ask any questions. You were to listen, acknowledge what they said, and then take your turn to speak.

I remember the way we sat right next to each other, 10 to a round table, our water glasses and coffee mugs PRACTICALLY TOUCHING, and taking each other’s business cards without Lysoling them like this was just how we lived and how we always would and NOT APPRECIATING IT AT ALL. (Same for the buffet. Will we ever have buffets again? I don’t want to imagine a world without buffets.)

I also remember the sensation of listening. I’m embarrassed to say I don’t actively listen as often as I’d like to think I do. My mind is usually going 100 mph, wondering what I can contribute to the conversation; where I read something that totally supports or might disprove what the speaker is saying.

Active listening, on the other hand, felt like a meditation. It felt good to focus on my partner completely and to forget about myself for a minute. It was freeing, even.

When I met my husband, Dan there were two things that struck me about him: he was very cute and he was a good listener. At a loud bar with sticky floors, he asked me questions, and from the way he listened to my (characteristically long-winded) answers, I could feel his genuine curiosity.

I don’t think I realized it at the time but I was drawn to him because the way he listened made me feel loved. A week later my best friend asked if I would be willing to go out with another guy. (I assure you, reader, I have not always been a middle-aged mom with graying hair and no inclination, okay, some inclination, to Botox my crow’s feet. Dating someone else was a very real possibility.) “Maybe…” I told her, “but only if he were really awesome.”

We are so lucky to live in a moment where, even if like me, you live in a city where you can count the number of Black people you know on one hand, the internet is literally in your pocket. The stories of Black people you may never have the chance to meet are all right there.

Whatever your feelings about Black Lives Matter, defunding the police, or white supremacy, I see this crisis as an invitation for white people to listen. The stories being told are not necessarily new. What is new is the moment that we find ourselves in.

Whether rioting, gathering to protest in a pandemic, and anger are justified are not the questions we need to ask. The better questions are:

Why are these things happening?

What are the feelings, the lived experiences, and the history behind them?

What can I do to create a more just society?

But first, listen.

There are so many voices we can listen to; here are a few that resonated with me:

Running While Black: A Conversation Around Race With Alison Desir-Activist, Runner and Mother from the Keeping Track Podcast hosted by Alysia Monta?o, Rosin McGettigan, and Molly Huddle

Black Track Athletes Share Their Experiences With Race in America by Chris Chavez for Sports Illustrated

A Conversation on Racism in Cycling with Dr. Tim Erwin by Ben Delaney for VeloNews

Death Before Dishonor? a personal blog post by Tianna Bartoletta

Kimberly Jones “How Can We Win” (a YouTube video that’s well worth your seven minutes)

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