Thinking Out Loud – Maryann Kerr
By Maryann Kerr
When I was young and marching in the streets of Toronto at anti-war, pro-choice, ‘save our education” and grape boycott demonstrations, the song we sang was We Shall Not Be Moved.1 Though I did not know it at the time, the song has deep roots as a spiritual hymn sung by enslaved African Americans in the early 19th century. I thought it was a Pete Seeger and the Weavers song. Of course, I did.
In my mid twenties reading authors like Zora Neale Thurston2 and Alice Walker3, I didn’t think of them as Black authors. I thought of them as women authors. Of course, I did.
“Of course, I did” because in spite of my activism, I lived in a white-washed and segregated world. I still do. I swim in the ocean that is white supremacy culture. I swim in a sea of patriarchy and capitalism.
I am not the person I was then. Neither am I the person I was last week or month and definitely not last year. As author Jim Kwik writes, “If you know me based on who I was a year ago, then you don’t know me at all. My growth game is strong. Allow me to reintroduce myself.”
Imagine how different our social movements might be if every person engaged in social activism could remember this simple truth. Remember that many people work hard to be better, to do better. Sometimes we make mistakes. We center ourselves — or as we’ve come to call this — we are fragile. We turn the focus on ourselves by being defensive and sad.
I want to tell you not to do this–and that I understand. I’ve done it. As hard as I will try, I might do it again. I’m human and therefore fallible. You are too.
When I’ve worked with or for women from the global majority, I’ve paid special attention to the idea that in me they might see every White woman who tried to steal their job. They might see every White woman who has diminished and disrespected them. I may represent every White woman who has stolen a Black woman’s ideas and represented them as her own. I remind myself that my colleagues from the global majority worked twice as hard as I did to make it to where they are today. Then, I look for ways to be less threatening. Because my very existence is a threat.
It doesn’t always work. Sometimes the folks you work with have developed their own deep-seated and internalized racism, misogyny, and insecurity. Some so-called leaders have learned to bully, diminish, disrespect and divide and conquer because that’s what happened to them from folks they believed were leaders. That’s what they learned from the dominant culture.
I’ve seen this happen with folks from many parts of the non-dominant culture — gay men, Black women, a disability advocate. In each case they were terrible leaders and bullies — and how they got there was by being treated this way themselves. For generations they’ve watched and experienced lousy leadership from society-defined “success-stories” in the dominant culture. From this we’ve created a workplace version of intergenerational trauma.
Bruce was the first man I knew who called himself a feminist. He was 6’4” tall and had a booming, deep voice. He told me that when he walks at night and sees a woman ahead coming towards him or coming up from behind, or sees he is ‘following’ — he criss-crosses to the other side of the street. He knew he represented danger even though he wasn’t dangerous.
In meetings and at social events, he worked hard to quiet his voice and to make space for women to speak even if it meant he did not contribute. At times, when he heard a man repeat what had just been said by a woman and ignored —he would point out that this was exactly what the woman had said and ensured she was credited with her own voice.
Bruce made lots of mistakes. However, he was actively trying to make a difference. This was the early ‘80s and his actions were radical for the time. Perhaps they still are. When Bruce messed up, his feminist sisters called him in. We were not always nice, but we were always kind. And he was grateful. Humble. Gracious.
This is what I was thinking about when I watched the film Women Talking. I’d asked three people to watch with me and each, in turn, suggested it seemed too dark. It wasn’t their thing. So, I nestled into my comfy chair and watched.
Sarah Polley won an Academy Award for best adapted screenplay for the film. In her acceptance speech she said, “Miriam Toews wrote an essential novel about a radical act of democracy in which people who don’t agree on every single issue manage to sit together in a room and carve out a way forward together, free of violence.”
A radical act of democracy. This is what we need in the social impact space. A radical act of democracy.
From the moment the words “What follows is an act of female imagination” flash across the screen to the final line, “Your story will be different from ours” the film is an expression of our complex and yet simple humanity. It is hopeful. It speaks to the power of silence and the burden of an untold story. It asks us to clarify what we are fighting for not just what we seek to destroy. It elevates the beauty and necessity of dreams and vision and anger. It succinctly illustrates systems thinking, internalized misogyny and the exquisite depth of believing in each other’s lived experience. It elegantly demonstrates how to give and receive an apology.
When one of the ‘women talking’ suggests we must “process pain into fuel” we are reminded that trauma does not always beget trauma. Generations of trauma have created a traumatized workplace. Many take that trauma, whether from their family of origin or the workplace, or elsewhere and bravely create something new. I think of organizations like jack.org and Gilda’s Club and Mothers Against Drunk Driving.
Others cannot work through it and may create new trauma as a result. It is the reason that my colleague Hugh Drouin, author of The Inspired Workplace says that leaders don’t need to be heroes, they need to be healers. So much of our work in organizations is about healing and that healing starts with each of us.
We need to do the inside work to identify our traumas — and work through them. From adverse childhood experiences to sexual assault in the workplace — the trauma we carry can help us be and do better, or not. What will you choose?
Maryann Kerr is Chief Happiness Officer, CEO and principal consultant with the Medalist Group. Maryann is a governance, leadership and culture specialist, has worked in the social profit sector for 34 years and helped raise over $110M. She is an associate consultant with Global Philanthropic Canada. Maryann is a sector leader with a passion for her social justice, feminism, and continuous learning. Maryann’s first book was published by Civil Sector Press in 2021: Tarnished: Let’s rethink, reimagine and co-create a new social impact sector. Maryann earned her CFRE in 1997 and her master’s in organizational leadership in 2016. She is currently exploring opportunities for a Ph.D. or perhaps a second book. She writes this column exclusively for each issue of Foundation Magazine.
1 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Shall_Not_Be_Moved
2 https://www.zoranealehurston.com/
3 https://alicewalkersgarden.com/
Related Posts
