Two Minute Rants and Our Whole Selves

At the inaugural Grassroots Freeway Fighters Summit in Cincinatti last week, I led a session called The Two Minute Rant, designed to build community. As one delegate said later, “It created space for people to bring their whole selves to the conversation.”

After a day full of heady sessions on organizing, policy, law, communications, volunteer recruitment and media, we made space for the heart. Our group of 47 advocates and allies leading efforts to stop highway widenings in their backyards or turn freeways into boulevards ranged in age from seventeen to seventies and was more diverse than many transportation spaces. The event, organized by America Walks with support from Devou Good Foundation , was the debut of my two minute rant concept, an invitation to take the mic, turn the egg timer and hold forth on whatever moved you.??

We heard a hilarious rant about some foundations' grant reporting requirements. We heard the joy of being freed from a soulsucking bureaucracy. We heard tips for staying sane and balanced when the work is so hard. One delegate, voice shaking, said he hated public speaking then named the people at the event who had made him feel welcome. The story of an 87 year old woman who died in a crosswalk that the city councilman had tried but failed to get fixed left us in tears. We were skewered by the anger of the young advocates about the mess that my generation has left them. The elders responded with their sorrow and guilt for not having done more, and with the ferocity and love that keep them doing the work.?

The two minute rant was coined a few years ago, when I was driving my teens up Boulder Canyon. My kids asked why roads are always under construction. I took a deep breath, ready to hold forth on a topic so near to my heart. But I stopped and asked, “Do you really want to hear this?” One replied, “Yeah, but only for two minutes.” It stuck and we now hold up two fingers when someone starts going on and on. It’s a reminder that it’s okay to rant but to keep it short.??

During our session at the Summit, I spoke of my husband’s early onset dementia and my decision to put him into memory care earlier this year. I didn’t share it to get sympathy, but from my growing conviction that we need to be more vulnerable and open about our challenges. I want people to know that it’s okay to need help. Before John’s diagnosis, I was a helper, not one who needed help. Being competent and confident is part of my identity. I’m all “I got this.” But then one day, I could no longer do it all. As soon as I swallowed my pride and mustered up the courage to admit it, friends and neighbors stepped up. They planned his moving party. They visit him while I travel, sew name tags into his clothing, explore care options, furnish his room, deliver supplies and hold my hand as I grieve the loss of my best friend, life partner and the father of my kids.?

I find that I am not diminished by accepting help. Sharing my experience has led to extraordinary conversations and connections which have fortified all involved. Brené Brown says, “Everyone has a story or a struggle that will break your heart.” We’re all good at hiding those stories under masks of cheer and competence.?

I attended the memorial gathering yesterday for Steve Sander , a Denver fixture described as the ultimate connector, a marketing maven and a mensch. Over the years, I had the good fortune of basking in his bright light at various bike events. Hundreds of people attended the gathering with speeches by Senator John Hickenlooper , Mayor Michael B Hancock and other close friends. Steve died by suicide and his loved ones chose to be open about it. At the service, we learned that he had meticulously arranged his affairs, but gave no signs that despair had overwhelmed him. This man who assisted and inspired so many left behind a wake of shock, grief and many questions of why he never asked for help.?

The work of building a more sustainable and equitable transportation system is hard. People die in traffic crashes, sidewalks and bike lanes don’t get built, people who can least afford the time wait hours for buses, we fight for years on single projects while the inexorable highway building continues through black and brown neighborhoods and heritage farmland. Good ideas die on bureaucratic trash heaps and in the fires of politics. Systemic biases, historic inequities, and outdated algorithms influence every decision.?

The two minute rant session didn’t solve any of those problems, but it did spread some light in our community. I am encouraged to see the idea of tending the whole person percolating in ways small and large. An icebreaker question at a recent zoom meeting about how you cook rice turned into a cross cultural journey of grandma stories and family recipes. At a staff retreat of The Funders Network last year, we spent an extraordinary two days learning each other’s stories and wrestling with the question of how to lead with love, as suggested by bel hooks.?

I plan to refine and share the two minute rant idea more widely. I will listen more carefully and be more honest when I have the “How are you?” conversation with friends, family and colleagues. I’m convinced that everyone holds seeds of despair within them. If the seeds are growing, please call or text 988 for the national suicide prevention hotline or reach out to someone you trust. Take it from me that it’s okay to share your struggles and ask for help.