Outspoken

For those of us who are even semi-versed in feminist philosophy, some of the ideas in this blog post aren’t going to be particularly earth shattering. Nevertheless, I’m writing this post because of the amount of incredulity and rage I feel from some recent experiences, and I’m particularly infuriated because many of the comments have been from educated individuals who likely claim feminism as a part of their ideology. Moreover, I always want theory to touch the ground and to demonstrate what it looks like when broad philosophies touch the context of the particular.

I’ve had a run of experiences lately where people describe me as the following: “Outspoken. Candid. Direct. Blunt.”

And, to be quite frank, it really pisses me off. Believe me, I have faults, but I don't think that the aforementioned adjectives should be used to describe me, even in a mildly denigrative fashion. It makes me want to pound a sledgehammer into a tire in frustration because- in a nutshell- I strongly believe that these words are [mis]attributed to me simply because I’m a confident female. It pisses me off for additional multiple reasons that I’ll explore in a bit, but if I had to succinctly summarize my beef with these character proclamations, it can be condensed into that single sentence.

Here’s the long version of why these adjectives piss me off:

Pejorative
First, the majority of the adjectives in question have a negative, undesirable connotation. Of the four adjectives listed, I would happily accept only one of them as a label (candid). Oh, sure, you could argue semantics and talk about the reclamation and/or the subjectivity of their meaning. But really, for the most part- most people would say that these adjectives are not given as a compliments.

Here’s what really pisses me off about the fact that these “negative” characteristics are being ascribed to me. I have completed over a decade of school and work experience in the field of pastoral care and counseling. I am astutely cognizant of my word choice when I speak, and I am almost hypersensitive to the impact they may have on others. No, I’m certainly not perfect, and I do put my foot in my mouth occasionally, but for the most part, I’m very intentional with my language, and it’s resulted in a vibrant career caring for others as they experience the pain of missing deceased loved ones.

So…if I’m not being a dick when I speak…why do people ascribe these negative characteristics to me? Could it be- gasp- because I have a voice and I use it? Could it be that sometimes, my thoughts can be challenging? Could it be because you are not used to a female feeling confident in her agency?

Misappropriated
Second, while I recognize that everyone has the right to their opinion, most of the aforementioned adjectives are misappropriated. Sure, you could get into a philosophical argument over subjectivity and truth regarding the right to label someone, but ultimately, I purport that people label me as these adjectives because we still live in a sexist world where women are continually taught and rewarded to be demure. So, yes, I suppose compared to many women, I do appear outspoken because they continue to be relatively unassuming by comparison. But just because someone appears outspoken by comparison does not mean that they are actually outspoken, nor does it mean that they should be viewed in a pejorative manner.

Nonetheless, I don’t think that I’m actually outspoken; rather, I believe that I express high levels of agency and self-possession. For the love of God, I need to possess those characteristics with my life and my career. I teach students at the college level, and I’m responsible for the maintenance of a multifaceted bereavement program across the Des Moines metro. Here’s an example of when I need to be blunt. I’ve had a decent number of male clients over the years who have struggled with boundaries. Many of them have lost their spouse, and in the midst of their grief, they start to become inappropriate with me. I HAVE to shut that down. I’m not mean when I do it, but yes, you better believe that I am direct when I do it, because I CANNOT have the client harboring any sort of misguided hope about what is happening between us. Does this mean that I’m “outspoken”? Does this mean that I’m too “direct”? Since when does having the ability to speak truth plainly mean that someone is speaking out of turn?

To add to that point, I’m trained with having honest conversations about difficult topics. I’ve had to talk with clients about enmeshment, suicide, and well, all of the difficulty that occurs when someone dies. I’ve had to talk to students about plagiarism, sex, and respectful classroom conduct. As I’ll add in further detail below, I’m always very cognizant of the other person’s feelings in these conversations, but these subjects DO get addressed. In sum, I’m very comfortable with naming and discussing taboo topics, and somehow, this familiarity has contributed to my “outspoken” and “direct” adjectives. And, to be honest, that makes me feel quite sad, because it feels like authenticity, vulnerability, and truth telling are on the receiving end of negative connotation.

And again, let me be abundantly clear- I don’t think that “confidence” and “assertive” are license to say whatever you want. No, when we claim our voices- we still need to be mindful of the other person’s subjectivity and feelings. Which is why it is even MORE baffling to me that I have these labels ascribed to me. Yes, I’m quite forward when I need to be, but I’m always very conscious of my word choice. When I talk to a client about being enmeshed, it’s not like I say, “Hey, John Smith. You are super obsessed with your dead wife and that’s waaaay unhealthy. What’s wrong with you?” Instead, I might say something like this, “John, you’ve mentioned how close you and your wife are, and it’s clear that you loved each other very much. I’m wondering what it means that you didn’t have many hobbies or spend time with friends when you were together.” And then I would wait and see how John responded to that statement, and I would guide him down a path of some of my thoughts about the fact that they may have been enmeshed in addition to having a lovely marriage.

I am not afraid to express my perceptions and voice. I’m intentional with how I do so, and yet, somehow, the mere fact that I am confident and capable enough of doing it has labeled me as “outspoken,” and “direct.”

Growth
This one is a bit more personal than the two reasons mentioned previously, but that doesn’t make it any less significant or valid.

I used to have a very diminished voice and presence. It’s taken me decades to feel comfortable interacting in the world with my innate sensitivity and spaciness. When I went to school at Vanderbilt, my awkwardness and discomfort was magnified in a context that accepted only perfection. Sometimes I would have to write my words down before I would speak, and other times, I would still stumble over them because I was so anxious with having to talk to people in that toxic environment. For anyone that’s interacted with me in the last couple of years, this probably sounds extremely baffling (and mildly unbelievable.) No, I sincerely assure you that I am not exaggerating. My voice and confidence were so emaciated in Nashville that it felt personally dangerous to allow any part of me to seep outside myself. I will certainly own that I played a part in allowing myself to become this depreciated, but the context and system most definitely exacerbated it.

In 2012, I graduated from Vanderbilt, moved to Des Moines, and broke up with my long-term boyfriend all within the space of a couple of months. The simultaneous experience of these events was catastrophic, but it resulted in a long and (ultimately) fulfilling process of putting myself back together. For the first time in my adult life, I was single, and I had to learn how to advocate for myself. I had to learn how to meet my needs for companionship and validation outside of a partner, and as I quickly realized, no one was going to simply hand it to me. Additionally, after going to school for one million years, I was finally an adult who had to learn how to function both within a professional environment and a routine work schedule. And although it was certainly a process with its own pitfalls, I love that I finally, finally found a strong and confident voice. I discovered a career as a hospice grief counselor that rewarded my innate gifts; my extreme sensitivity was finally a significant asset, and I had an instinctive creativity for developing programs that supported our bereaved clients. Instead of stumbling over my words, I found myself leading groups, teaching workshops, and continually speaking and advocating for grief with ease. When I engage in public speaking and presentations, I barely use notes anymore because I'm so comfortable with my message and material. Additionally, I grew in my personal life as well. As noted above, I quickly realized that as a single woman living alone, there was only one person who could address my need for connection. I joined a couple of different organizations before finding my true love- TGR Fitness. I found a place that empowered me so much physically that I felt mentally and emotionally stronger as well. After several years of membership, I’ve grown to the point that I teach one of the classes, maintain several friends, and participate in our shows. I am comfortable and confident with my voice in many facets of my life.

The point of showcasing the last 10 years of my life is to illustrate how extraordinarily painful it is to hear people describe me as “outspoken” and “blunt.” I used to be so much more timid; I was afraid of outwardly displaying any part of my voice and personality for fear that it would be trampled upon. It’s taken an insane amount of pain and work to be the confident woman that I am today; it was literally blood, sweat, and tears that led to the level of self-possession I maintain currently. So to hear someone describe my voice- the one that I had hid for so long- as something that is too forceful or powerful- feels like a gigantic slap in the face to the trauma I endured to find it, as well as to the  joy I feel now for feeling comfortable enough to express it.  

I will always, always maintain that we need to be intentional about how we use our words, and we need to do our best to show compassion to others. I am incredibly aware of other people's feelings, and yet, I know that I still fall short at times. I can always, always grow in this area. But I will NOT apologize for having opinions, challenging people’s assertions, being genuine, discussing difficult topics, and showcasing authentic awkwardness.

That’s called being a strong and vulnerable human being. I’ve worked hard for it, and I’m not letting it go.