Monday, December 7, 2020

Assumed Malice

Over the years, I've developed a motto that applies to many situations: Never assume malice when incompetence could explain the situation.

My MIL is currently livid because Amazon delivered a box of canned soups to the front of our relatively long driveway, rather than by our garage or at our front door. They were delivered after dark and wound up spending the night in the driveway, which can't be seen from any point inside the house. It was freezing out, and although the cans are not malformed, she assumes the soup is ruined. She's especially livid because the delivery person apparently indicated 'hand delivered to customer,' which was clearly not the case since the customer was not a driveway. She's focusing on the fact that he lied. If we apply "never assume malice when incompetence is a possibility", then we see that the guy was probably using an electronic device with check boxes, in the dark, in the sub-freezing weather here in MN. He probably just checked the wrong button. Incompetence, not malice. 

The motto applies in the fertility world. After we'd lost the twins and their sister, a dear friend, who had herself gone through IVF (successfully), asked "why don't you adopt?" As frustrating as I found that question, it certainly didn't come from a place of malice. Incompetence might not be the optimal description of where it did come from, but the lack of understanding of others' perspectives is a close cousin to that. 

I try hard to avoid coming from a place of incompetence when dealing with others. I look at the work I'm doing in the social justice space, and I'm woefully aware that some of my words are likely to cause frustration or hurt, without me ever intending such. One situation that stands out to me, from years back, was when I commented on the eloquence of a speaker's words. I love words and language, and I love anyone who can use language elegantly. This speaker, a woman of color, could. I commented to a colleague, also a woman of color, how well spoken the speaker was. Since then, I've seen that "well spoken" is often viewed (and meant) as a way of indicating surprise that a person of color is more intelligent or educated than expected. It is a micro-aggression. That was not my intent, I felt no surprise, only tremendous respect that the speaker communicated so much more eloquently than I could on a difficult topic. But in coming from a place of incompetence with my comment, I caused hurt.

I can't speak to what the Amazon delivery driver's intentions were. I can acknowledge my own intentions, and step up to reduce my incompetence in interacting with others. I can learn new language, I can do things that make me uncomfortable to make others more comfortable. I can't be perfect, but I can try to be better. 


1 comment:

  1. This is such a reminder of the need to be forgiving too, isn't it? That "why didn't you adopt?" question can come from a genuine wish to understand, or (usually online in the comments section) a judgement without any intention of wanting to be better.

    I've just read (okay, listened to an audiobook on my walks) Malcolm Gladwell's Talking to Strangers, which goes into the assumptions we make. It touches on the points you've made, and you might find it interesting.
    Really nice post.

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