Feedback is a gift

I received some feedback today. It was critical feedback, which I don’t always find the easiest to accept, because it means acknowledging some kind of flaw or facing the fact that I’m wrong about something (and who wants to be wrong?). I saw the feedback, frowned, and did what I tend to do in the face of criticism: I started drafting a sharp, defensive response.

And then, a couple of sentences into what surely would have been an ironclad and complete rejection of the other person’s perspective, I remembered that criticism is a gift. Even if it’s harsh. Especially if it’s harsh. When someone takes the time to criticize, and they’re doing it because they expect better from you, and they’re mad enough to burn calories on conveying that, it truly is a gift. So I deleted what I had started writing, and chose to open the gift instead of lighting it on fire.

I replied. I thanked them for the feedback and said that I’d work on the issue. I clicked the post button. It didn’t feel great, but that’s OK. Accepting critical feedback is like taking medicine: it tastes bad, but it’s good for you.

Then I spent a while reflecting on what was shared with me. The gist of it was about the way I use Mastodon: too many critical posts, delivered to too many people, consisting of reactions to specific things that specific people said. It’s the “too many people” part that was a larger part of the issue. The criticism pointed to the number of followers I have, and called the dynamic “wildly asymmetrical”. It was eye-opening.

I don’t ever think about how many people might read something I post. Most of the time I assume no one will read it. I just type up my thoughts and click the button. I really don’t care how many followers I have. I don’t seek to accumulate followers. I don’t even care for the very concept of followers. But none of that matters, because regardless of my feelings about any of it, the person who shared their concern with me was right. When I type a post and click a button, it goes out to a bunch of people. And the fact that I didn’t even know how many isn’t any noble sign of humility; it’s a reflection of a kind of carelessness that needs to be addressed.

Fortunately, it’s easy to address. When I make a post on Mastodon, I’ll think about how many people will see it show up in their feeds. Will that change the way I post to Mastodon? Definitely. Is that a good thing overall? For sure.

I spent a lot of time pondering all of this today. It was a good kind of pondering; the “learn and grow” kind. I’m not afraid to make a mistake. Nor am I afraid to admit when I’ve made one. I’m not afraid to make changes so that I can avoid making the same mistake in the future. I don’t feel any weaker for any of this. I just feel better. There is no shame in improvement.

But there is shame in the asymmetry. What I didn’t mention earlier is that the feedback suggested that someone quit blogging because of that asymmetry. And that’s sad.

I have strong beliefs that sustain strong values. I have a really hard time when a person is made to feel less valued because someone else can’t be bothered to accept their innate qualities. I have no tolerance for bigotry, and no patience for pathetic attempts to justify it. These are all strong feelings. And I often communicate about them strongly.

But, yeah. Strong messages, directed at one person, but delivered to a whole bunch of people? It’s asymmetrical. I get it. I won’t do it any more, and I am sorry to anyone I hurt through that asymmetry. If that’s you, and you want a direct apology from me, send me a message. But let me make this as clear as I possibly can: I will continue to advocate for every person who is on the receiving end of ignorance and hate, and I’ll continue to call out bad behavior when I expect better from someone. It’s just going to be done in a more thoughtful way from here on out.

So. Anyway.

I also read two really great blog posts today. One is People can change by Annie, and the other is navigating power and privilege by mbjones. The first restored my shaken faith in the idea that people are even capable of change anymore, and the second offers a framework for making meaningful change. They’re both really good, and I hope you’ll consider reading them.

That’s all for now. See you next time.