Those who have read my memoir — “This Little Light of Mine: The Twinkle Continues” — will understand that from my earliest years I learned the value of watching and waiting, changing the subject, and/or diverting the attention of those wishing harm to me or my family members. I did not debate or argue. I listened, sympathized, then reasoned where I could. (Though sometimes I sacrificed myself, but that is another part of the story.)
Those listening skills have come in handy with people in these days of massive propaganda producing reactionary choices. When they get all emotional and loud, I sit quietly and listen, waiting until the splutter is out before I reply using a technique that is now being called Verbal Jiu-jitsu.
Two stories that illustrate this method of mine. The first is with strangers. As a writer, I am always taking in details of how people dress, move, talk, and react. When I’m studying something, my gaze can be quite intense. So, I’ve had strangers, both males and females, feel the force of that gaze and whip around to give their delivery of an answer to what they think is my challenge of them. It usually sounds like this:
“Whut the hayle you lookin’ at, b**ch?”
Now, I could say something like, “Who you callin’ a B**CH?” or “If I wanted to be called a B**CH I’d still be married.” But, no. I refrain. They asked a question and I am going to answer it. So, what am I looking at?
One man I remember watching had a walk that was just fabulous. He inquired whut the hayle… and I answered truthfully. First I smiled and said, “You’re walk.” He said, still angry but not as much so, “Whut about my walk?” I raised my eyebrows and let my eyes get all big and said, “It’s awesome.” And it was awesome. I was not lying. To another man I said, “If you aren’t, you should be a model. I bet you photograph great. Your bone structure! Geez!” Again, not lying.
I’ve done the same with women who are giving me dirty looks. There are some women who always must compete with other women. I’ve never felt that need. However, I stare at them and find something on or about them that I like. Then I walk over, shaking my head with a smile like I just can’t believe what I’m seeing. When they inquire, as they will, I do the same thing I do with the men, lead with a compliment such as, “Those colors make your skin glow! Are you a Summer or Winter? No? Oh, these are Spring colors. Well, perfect for your skin!” or “Where did you get those shoes?” or “Your hairstyle soooo fits your face. Marvelous.”
Like the men do, the women do the same: They all smile and get in a great mood. I’ve even had people say to me things like, “You just made my day. I was in a really bad place and thinking terrible things and you helped me see there are still nice people.” Some have even said, “My mother HATES this outfit.” Now I have opportunity to say something like, “Well now, some folks…” and shake my head knowingly, letting them fill in the blanks with something they think I agree with them on.
Another story. This from the creative performing world. I was having breakfast with a friend, a comedian. The owner of the popular Atlanta breakfast/lunch eatery came over and the two of them began catching up. It had been awhile since they’d seen each other. I was introduced to the owner by my friend.
I’d been in three of my friend’s shows as the musical break in his comedy act. That was lots of fun. Anyway, out of the blue the owner of the restaurant starts insulting Donald Trump. My friend jumped right in with him. I sat there, listening, never saying one word. It was fascinating to watch. After about twenty minutes of spewing vitriol that went around the world, the owner made some wild statement, then turned to me and said, “Don’t you agree, Angela?” (I no longer remember his statement, darn it. I wish I did.) They both turned to me and waited.
I paused then said, “No. I don’t agree.”
What happened next was hilarious if it wasn’t so sad. It’s a good thing I’m used to dealing with anger and know how to sit quietly in a non-threatening fashion. People at other tables watched. Some were afraid to move. Others were waiting to see if they were going to be called upon to rescue the woman.
My friend’s face turned beet red in anger, as did the owner’s. Then for the next fifteen minutes or so they piled on like identical twin wrestlers in a traveling show in the 1930s South: Sweat popping, getting louder and more extreme, peppering me with questions they would not allow me to answer, until finally the owner screamed, yes screamed, “I will never serve you again. Don’t come back.” And the comedian screamed, “I can’t believe you love Trump.”
Trump, by the way, was not even in nor had been associated with the statement the owner made that he wanted me to agree with which just goes to show one couldn’t string together a logical defense for anything they were thinking. But their spewing finally ended and I opened my mouth to speak. Here’s what I said —
“You guys do realize that I’m not mad at you for speaking about what you believe, right? And you did notice I wasn’t stopping you from having that conversation? Yes?” My eyes went from one face to the other, back and forth, waiting for the answer.
Well, that wasn’t what either of them were expecting and it effectively shut my friend’s mouth, though the owner had what we in the South call “choice” words to say and stalked off.
But my friend got to thinking and I watched his brain turn over those oh-so-recent events. Though it took a while — giving me time to eat my breakfast before it went completely stone cold, though I did not ask for a coffee refill because somehow I did not think I would get it — my friend finally calmed down whereupon we had a good conversation about the nature of having differences of opinion but still valuing the other person. He was very embarrassed at himself.
To this day my friend adores me. I never bring up anything political with him. He won’t bring up anything political without prefacing it with “I know you don’t agree, but…” at which point if it is something with which I disagree (and it most always is, though creatively we get along just fine) I simply hug him and say, “Bless your heart. I love you anyways. You know that, right?” And he nods and grins and says, “Yes, I know. And I love you, too.”
See? Détente in action.
Now, why do I do that instead of jumping in all loud and angry and trotting out stock gotcha phrases? Because I am trying to change their minds? Maybe. But mostly it is that I want their minds to awaken to the possibility of a larger set of facts. I don’t want to make those minds more entrenched by giving a challenge.
My ego does not need to say, “Hey, I won that argument. Aren’t I just an awesome debater?” Which is something that is being done too much these days and is one thing I have against some of these young people going around (on both sides of the political aisle) using snappy comebacks and gotchas that do nothing but further the divide.
It helps that I’m a mother and have watched and dealt with temper tantrums aplenty, and that is all these types of people are doing: Pitching fits. So I try to remember that I don’t need to pitch another fit right along with them. That I am the adult in the room. And that a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down.
But there are always those who don’t want the spoonful of sugar. Who want the fight? Further practicing of Verbal Jiu-jitsu allows the verbal attacker opportunity to dig their debating hole deeper and deeper until finally, metaphorical shovel in hand, they are looking to their opponent for a way out of the mess they find themselves in.
And that is when, after hearing and parsing all they’ve said, one has already boiled down the essence of their argument and one simply says, “I’d like to make sure that I understand what you just said…” repeating the summary. They can either agree that your understanding is correct or they can say that is not what they meant, what they meant was…
And now the stage is set for a meaningful conversation, not a free-for-all where nobody is having any fun.
