A Story of Being Intentional About Signals

I added the pronouns (she, her) to my profile name on LinkedIn a couple of weeks ago, and left a comment on a friend's post shortly afterward.

That was the first time my name came up with the pronouns, and someone I love promptly responded with "lose the pronouns" in his response to my comment.

I was annoyed, why would he care what my title says? It felt insulting, critical, like a condescending comment you'd expect from your older brother when you were teenagers. I was being judged.

Sometimes those things that trigger us are important cues for room for self-reflection and personal growth, right? This was one of those triggers.

Now I have nothing but appreciation for that snide remark.

Mt Helena, Helena, Montana February 2021

As I took my walk on the mountain behind my house later that day, I thought more about his comment. It was really bothering me and I couldn’t pinpoint why I was feeling triggered and defensive.

Then it dawned on me, it was the same feeling I had as a teenager and young adult when my brother or sister would give me a hard time about something I said or did. It was the feeling of self-consciousness about not actually thinking through what I said or did, though they could have presented it more gently, there was merit to the criticism. That never feels good.

In this case, I was feeling self-conscious because I hadn't truly considered why I added the pronouns. So there was some merit to my friend’s critical comment. I realized how important it was for me to have clarity around the action of adding pronouns. Otherwise, it’s meaningless. My friends and connections know how much the word intention fills my world… I had done something without fully considering the intention behind it.

The evening before I added pronouns I participated in a webinar "The 5 Languages of Appreciation at Work" hosted by my dear friend Amy Ashworth (who nailed it, by the way.)

In the beginning of the webinar, one participant said that in other small, interactive webinars he attended, guests introduced themselves and added their pronouns to their name. That made sense to me, so I changed my name in Zoom to include my pronouns. I added them in LinkedIn at the same time, to be consistent.

The lightbulb went on in my brain as my heart rate went up, climbing a steep part of the mountain. (That's generally where I find my most meaningful ideas and inspirations.)

I had a vivid memory from just over five years ago: I was looking through my LinkedIn connections and realized the majority of them looked like me. Then I took a hard look at my connections on Facebook and locally, right here in my close community. Again, I was struck by the homogeny of what I was seeing.

Startled and disappointed, I began the work of intentionally broadening my network across political, ethnic, religious, gender identity, sexual preference, and all other communities that have significantly different life experiences from mine. Through a combination of curiosity and intention, I started to build a community that was far more diverse, not for the sake of diversity, but for the sake of inclusion, personal growth, and yes, love. I love people, even the ones I don’t like very much. And when I became aware of my limited circle of friends and acquaintances, I felt like a fraud. It seemed hypocritical for me to share my thoughts about love, justice, community, and communication, given my limited exposure to people who think and look and have experiences that are significantly different from mine.

In these past 5 years, my world has expanded and my feelings of connection have deepened. It hasn't always been easy, especially given the polarization of communities over the past 4 years. I've had to listen carefully, consider how my world view and experiences have created my biases and filters, and have experienced gentle and not-so-gentle correction for stepping in it with people I care deeply about.

Our micro-aggressions run deep, that's why they can be so hard for us to see, and why it hurts when someone points it out.

I’ve continued to practice my own gentle corrections when I’ve experienced bias, whether as a woman, a Jew, a mother, an American, and one time – as a Jewish woman living in Montana.

(My go-to demonstration of a micro-aggression is when a bartender said to me a few years ago: "You look really good for 40!" after asking to see my ID. I gently corrected him. "No need to qualify that compliment. Just tell me I look good.")

So why did I suddenly add pronouns?

I hadn't added pronouns before because I have a feminine name, and believe it's obvious that I identify as a woman. It didn’t seem necessary.

When our older son was the only Jewish kid in his class in kindergarten, and the teacher offered to let him put a birds nest on the top of his Christmas Tree calendar instead of a star. That way he could call it a Winter Tree instead.

When I added pronouns it wasn't for me. It isn't about me.

It’s about normalizing something for those who feel marginalized by having to point it out.

That was it. My "ah ha" moment on the mountain.

Adding pronouns was a simple and effective indication to my network that my world is broadening. Because what we share about ourselves, images, words, stories, and yes, pronouns, are all signals for the people around us.

I’m indicating that my love and care for people isn't despite their differences, but because of them.

Our differences aren't something to be tolerated, they're something to explore, to value, and to celebrate.

Sarah and chocolate lab, Toby, snow, Mt Helena, Helena, Montana

ABOUT SARAH:
In my work with coaching clients, I guide people to improve their communication using storytelling as the foundation of our work together. What I’ve realized over years of coaching and podcasting is that the majority of people don’t realize the impact of the stories they share - on their internal messages, and on the people they’re sharing them with.

My work with leaders and people who aspire to be leaders follows a similar path to the interviews on my podcast, uncovering pivotal moments in their lives and learning how to share them to connect more authentically with others, to make their presentations and speaking more engaging, to reveal patterns that have kept them stuck or moved them forward, and to improve their relationships at work and at home.

The audiobook, Your Stories Don’t Define You, How You Tell Them Will is now available!

Included with your purchase are two bonus tracks, songs recorded by Sarah's band, Spare Change, in her living room in Montana.