What If I’m Wrong?

It happened in two different sessions this week.

Both questions could be summed up as…

“But Rebecca, what if you’re wrong about that?”

The truth?

It’s pretty likely that I am.

In this little corner of the world, I see no evidence that I have found a sure method of abolishing the system of racism. I’ve actually been thinking about this a lot recently, but more on that next week.

Earlier this year, a friend sent me a text “This discussion reminds me so much of your thinking, beliefs, approach…” along with a link to this conversation.

Since then, I’ve become a fan of much of what Adam offers.

In his book, Think Again: The Power of Knowing What You Don’t Know, he makes a case for thinking like a scientist:

When you think like a scientist, you favor humility over pride and curiosity over conviction. You look for reasons why you might be wrong, not just reasons why you must be right.

I believe this could really help our communities of practice.

Because every time we locate how we are getting it wrong, we take a step toward getting it a little better.

I do this a ton in private – making significant framework adjustments about every 6 months because the response is different from what I was intending.

But in public…I still feel defensiveness in my body.

I spend more time explaining what’s behind my beliefs and how I got there and season all of that mess with a touch of possibility that I’m getting it wrong.

But in private, I’m not so convinced.

Today I’m thinking about the gap between my public response and my private reflections.

It’s probably still ego.

Which tells me more healing is needed. I think ego shows up as a fear-based, protective behavior.

I notice that I’m still worried about our collective capacity to talk about where we are getting it wrong and stay put with one another.

This staying put allows for the possibility of iteration.

Layering.

Shared history.

Which builds belief in our ability to change.

Saying publicly how I’m getting it wrong is an important skill that I’m still working to develop. I’m sorry for all of the times when I deflect, defend, or argue my way out of the vulnerability that these moments present.

I’m committed to heal the wounds that drove me to install this type of behavior.

And to keep moving toward you.

 

P.S. If you are working on these things too and need to tell someone how you think you might be getting it wrong, my inbox is always open. You are not alone.

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Rebecca Greenidge (she/her)

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