Mastering Silence to Build Equity
How silence can be a tool for transformation at work.
As a human who manages other humans, I think about how I use my power a lot. I believe that one of the keys to healing the workplace is to create new and equitable ways to use power in a more communal way. I try not to sell the nonsense of every team member being on equal footing, because it is just not the truth. There was a time I believed this to be the key to good management, but it’s a lie and I have learned that even well-meaning lies set everyone up for something harmful down the line.
There is a hierarchy. I sit on it with more power and voice than some, less power and voice than others. Layer on my social privileges and it gets even more complicated. While I do not hold out for true honesty in a setting plagued with these power dynamics, I do believe the more I practice being authentic, the more my team will feel freedom to do so themselves.
At some point, I needed to recognize that saying words was not enough. It became less about asking my direct reports to trust carefully worded promises and more about how I manage myself in the day-to-day to reinforce the commitments I have made. Does my impact match my intention? Or is what I say empty placating?
The last thing I want is a team that participates in my illusion of control to appease me. If I am too defended in my authority, I risk transmitting a message that I cannot be challenged. If my need for power over people overwhelms my ability to hear them, it is something I need to yank up by the roots. I believe that power can be infinite, if it is shared instead of hoarded. We struggle for equity not because we do not have enough, but rather because we buy into the myth of scarcity. We end up clamoring for bits, while the fortunate few enjoy abundance.
There are many things that can be obtained through obedience, but equity is not one of them. And when we work in equity, we need to divorce ourselves from this idea that people obeying us is proof of our good leadership. Equitable spaces cannot rely on fear and coercion. Our intent must be to build self-determination and agency, and to facilitate access where it has been denied. The most challenging aspect for me is turning the intention something real. It’s very easy to believe the “right” things, rest on automatic pilot and just do as I always do. I find that developing a practice helps me move towards the progress I want to make inside of myself and out in the world.
As I learn to dismantle my own need for power and dominance, silence has become a great companion. I have found that the more threatened I feel, the more I avoid the spaces in between all the talk. We layer on conversation to avoid the truth sometimes. The more I am afraid of silence, the more my team learns to avoid it as well. The more comfortable I become with silence, the better I am at listening. If I can calm the anxiety, I can allow my senses to engage at a deeper level. I take in information in a fuller, dimensional way that better represents the moment in front of me. I am able to chase a deeper response from my team members than a simple “Ok, Boss”.
In the silent spaces, I learn more about the work I am doing as a team-builder and about the impact of my leadership on people’s sense of belonging. Silence is communication that encourages us towards personal stillness but, also, towards union.
My first step in developing a practice of silence is to recognize what happens in my body when I sense a threat. I feel tightness in my chest and stomach when this happens with my direct reports, and in my throat when it happens with people above me in the hierarchy. The former represents a challenge to my authority and the latter is a feeling of not having voice or agency. When I feel a threat, I compel myself to pause and breathe. I say compel, because it is not the natural reaction my body wants to have. I’d rather react to dispel the discomfort, to fill the space with talk or action. Breathing let’s me carve a space between the perceived threat and my response, and offers time for me to ask myself if the threat is real.
This is the second step — a rational assessment through questioning. Breathing or using a trusted coping strategy prior to this step is essential, because when we sit in a state of threat, our thoughts run amuck. It can be hard to organize. If I engage a breathing practice, or down a glass of ice water, I can usually become curious about my own anxieties. I have calmed them enough to step away and observe. For me, asking myself questions helps me frame what is happening.
Is this thing I am feeling programming or an actual threat? Will there be any real impact to my reputation, work or authority? Will I recover from a feeling from being embarrassed? Does my position on this team, in this organization, and in this moment, necessitate a response? Will me managing my own state of mind and avoiding reactivity build trust with those I am trying to lead?
We often talk about body and mind as a binary, but we are one body. There is a space between the spike and the fall of the nervous system, where you can engage emotions and thoughts fluidly. Feelings are a very important part of our whole-body interpretation system and help us make the most optimal decisions. I am most conscious of what is happening when I can integrate and resist compartmentalizing the messages I am getting from my entire self. I think the most personal power derives from this space, but it is really hard to balance there.
In reporting to someone else, I have also found silence to be a way to reframe energy or reclaim power. We are programmed to snap to action when our supervisor calls on us and, sometimes, that is exactly what we need to do. Other times, we are leaning on habit, a tendency to rush or a need to please. Everything becomes an emergency and obedience, the solution. It can be worth it to pause, inject silence, and explore ways to balance power. Am I answering out of obedience or authentic agreement? How do I model the authenticity I am asking of my own reports? Is there a slightly braver response I can try, even if that response is silence?
A practice as simple as asking for time before answering a question or accepting a directive can be so powerful. It is a tool of resistance we can employ with minimal risk. In practicing safe use of silence up and down the hierarchy, I feel more like a human connected to other humans and less like a pawn in someone’s game.
It has been said that having a reflection point on something you are trying to change helps to initiate that change. This is an essential piece of making silence your friend. Reflecting on how you acted and the outcomes you observed will help your brain attach to the habit. Even a quick note in your planner or comment to a friend can serve as this reflection.
Weeding out toxic power grabs is not easy, so reinforce yourself more than you think you should. This will encourage you to take calculated risks again and again and will help you resist the urge to fill a space without value and intention. Instead of denying the fear we all experience as humans, you can acknowledge that energy and use it to foster more voice for more people. Sometimes, in retrospect, you will decide your silence was not the best choice and next time, you will use your voice.
It isn’t that I no longer feel the need to have answers or solutions, or to fill the empty space. Of course, those impulses crop up pretty regularly. The difference is I have the tool of silence to help me respond from an authentic and grounded place. I experience more moments of freedom and agency. I resist being pulled along with the tide. I can avoid quick judgments that protect my ego and turn to curiosity to build personal and communal power. Thinking of this as a practice helps me not be too hard on myself when I mess it up. I am practicing and practice isn’t perfect. Like everyone else, I am a learner. And I am learning to make more space in myself and in the world for people’s stories, their voices and their silences.
