The "Quiet" Label

I realized I had a problem when, a few years ago, I found myself in an obsessive rage for days. It was after an infuriating interaction (you know, the kind where you repeatedly inflict harm on someone in your mind, and you smile, while noting it's not very Christian of you).

I was at work, in a meeting. I was attempting to keep my face neutral despite my lack of desire to be there. Our management group had finally gotten some facetime with the head of our division in order to cover certain existential topics that were forcing us to lead blindfolded and with our hands tied behind our backs. It was a stressful time. And, while I’m usually reserved, I had quite a few concerns myself and had prepared several notes. My peers–much less reserved and with much more baggage–spoke first and made their cases for their respective teams. I listened in agreement. I had even made a brief statement earlier in the meeting.

So, you can imagine the visceral reaction I had when the head of the division looked over at me towards the end of the meeting and he said, “What about you? You are always so quiet.” Aside from confusion resulting from the apparent dismissal of my previous contribution, I was extremely annoyed. I went on to explain how I agreed with my peers (we had discussed the same issues repeatedly as a smaller group) and I gave a few examples of challenges my individual team experienced. I remained pleasant throughout, while heat moved itself sloppily from my core to the rest of my body. Afterwards, I pulled one of my colleagues aside and blew the top off my head. My main complaint: I think that this man had characterized me during prior interactions and that affected his ability to see me as a whole person (and to hear the words coming out of my mouth).

I’ve gotten more crotchety about this topic as I’ve gotten older, and for that, I preemptively apologize to anyone who inadvertently finds themselves in my line of fire. Looking back, I think readers might be puzzled, not understanding why I was so upset by this event (enough to recall it years later!). Well, that’s fair. You haven’t been at my side, as the consequences of repeated inflictions build deep within my soul, creating a conditioned response to any characterization of “quiet”.

Which brings me to my point:

I learned a lot in that particular job. One of the most valuable lessons was about the importance of being deliberate with “is/are” statements when describing people. For example, if your coworker continually misses deadlines, you could say:

• “J is incompetent.”
• “J always misses deadlines.”
• “J has missed multiple deadlines and as a result, my project has been negatively affected.”

The first statement is a judgment on their character, and can lead to unconscious bias or even be a glaring example of the bias in action. I learned to catch those kinds of thoughts and reframe them so that the event is highlighted and not the person. The second statement is better, but “always” is still close to a character judgment; J may not always miss deadlines, just yours. The third statement is best because it is the most objective and describes the impact. The cause and effect structure is super useful.

Therefore, a description of me as “always quiet” is not a judgment I will tolerate by people who don’t know me very well. People in my past have used it as an insult–one of the most biting for my young, developing psyche was the one Harvard professor who wrote in my recommendation letter that I seemed quite provincial (from my lack of sophisticated participation in his class room) so I would certainly benefit from a year abroad in Germany. The truth hurts. If growing up barely middle class in America and never having an opportunity to travel to Europe means I was provincial, then fine, sure, logically that makes sense. Or the fact that socratic style teaching wasn’t a part of my standard curriculums. OK, sure. But I wholeheartedly do not accept the premise of these statements, which means I can’t accept their conclusions.

Spaces without psychological safety are ones where I’m most “quiet”. Spaces where I am trying to listen and absorb, rather than mold an environment to myself…”quiet”. Or even days where the weight of constant information has me exhausted and overburdened, desiring to shut off my brain, I’m quiet.

Often, I meet other people who have similar, seemingly random triggers. What’s yours? :)