Locked In

With a little bit of love and a good read of the room, you never know what you can unlock. 

Music by Scott Holmes - A Wee Tipple 
Non Copyright Music 

Transcript

Speaker 0:08

They were tall, hard, rough around the edges, actually much deeper than the edges. Their life held too much danger for softness, for vulnerability. Growing calloused was a necessary adaptation to their survival. Anger radiated off of their bodies, filling the space around each of them. Impulsive, quick to react, quick to voice their indignation, and quick to call each other out. Actions were purely motivated by emotion. They never had someone to teach them how to see or how to think ahead, how to feel and notice without reaction. They didn't spend too much time looking at you, only enough to clock the level of threat you carried. And if no threat level was detected, they quickly moved on. There was nothing else to clock. There was nothing else to be on the lookout for, but threat. No goodness, no one was looking out for them. No, any expectation of being seen, of being cared for were long gone. No memory of hoping for that, at least not until someone asked. It had been a few weeks since first engaging them, and the woman knew immediately she had her work cut out. The odds were stacked against her, but this was the norm. She often found herself in places where everything about her did not seem to fit. Her color, her gender, her background, her age, her depth. And no one ever expected the backbone she had, the ability to stare down intimidation, to look at all kinds of shit in the face and not back down, because her backbone was wrapped in softness, a kindness and vulnerability no one knew what to do with. She had learned it was way more effective to lead with softness and humor, and then follow up with a show of her strength when needed. To first take some time reading the room without being detected was important. She watched for dynamics at play that included ego and type of pain, the level of relationships already built, any ongoing conflict, type of communication, and the tolerance level for humor, connection, and being challenged, and she was always looking for what was missing and what was still needed. And now, a couple of weeks later, she stood quietly, doing a double take, watching a complete three sixty in behaviors. At first they had grumbled, cursed, shooting ever so dark looks her way. How dare she ask them to write, to complete any assignment reflecting on what they were learning? Writing? Reflecting? What the hell? Bitch be trippin'. She'd definitely be on something. But the woman continued night after night, finding anything good to highlight. "Hey man, nice work at handwriting." "Thanks for reading for the group. I can see you're a leader." "Hey, thank you for helping out and telling him how to pronounce that word. Really appreciate you helping out." And when one frustrated beyond words was ready to give up, instead of insisting he write, she asked him to share his thoughts out loud with her, and then affirmed his ability to communicate verbally. And the tall, frustrated one sat there, surprised. He had always been aware of his struggle to write, but had never been recognized for his verbal communication, or that it was enough. And when another one quickly recognized an opportunity to reduce his own workload and chirped in that he couldn't write, she replied with a grin, nice try, man. I already saw how well you write. Keep it up. She always responded to a challenge, playing games and shouting when she won, and most importantly, high fiving or initiating a fist bump when she lost, and always returning the trash talk with a grin, and asking what their day was like, and helping out with chores, and listening when they shared how they lost a family member or gotten into trouble, and what they might need to make meaningful change. And now here they sat, the entire group, quiet, heads down, intent on completing the assignment before them, writing their thoughts about what had just been discussed, what they liked and didn't like. No complaining. No dark looks. No comments about she be trippin.' "Just locked in. Focused on what they needed to do. Cause they knew what to expect and what was expected, and that she too was locked in. Locked in on unlocking what was locked up. In more ways than one.