Daring Greatly Part 9

I want to emphasize that the strengths perspective is not a tool to simply allow us to put a positive spin on a problem and consider it solved. But by first enabling us to inventory our strengths, it suggests ways we can use those strengths to address the related challenges. One way I teach this perspective to students is by requiring them to give and receive feedback on their cla.s.sroom presentations. When a student presents, s/he receives feedback from every one of his or her cla.s.smates. The students in the audience have to identify three observable strengths and one opportunity for growth. The trick is that they have to use their a.s.sessment of the strengths to make a suggestion on how the individual might address the specified opportunity. For example: Strengths You captured my interest right away with your emotional personal story.

You used examples that are relevant to my life.

You concluded with actionable strategies that tied in with our learning in the cla.s.s.

Opportunity Your stories and examples made me feel connected to you and what you were saying, but I sometimes struggled to read the PowerPoint and listen to you at the same time. I didn't want to miss anything you were saying, but I worried about not following the slides. You might experiment with fewer words on the slides-or maybe even no slides. You had me without them.

The research has made this clear: Vulnerability is at the heart of the feedback process. This is true whether we give, receive, or solicit feedback. And the vulnerability doesn't go away even if we're trained and experienced in offering and getting feedback. Experience does, however, give us the advantage of knowing that we can survive the exposure and uncertainty, and that it's worth the risk.

One of the greatest mistakes that I see people make in the feedback process is "armoring up." To protect ourselves from the vulnerability of giving or receiving feedback, we get ready to rumble (cue Jock Jams). It's easy to a.s.sume that the feedback process only feels vulnerable for the person receiving the feedback, but that's not true. Honest engagement around expectations and behavior is always fraught with uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure for everyone involved. Here's an example. Susan, the princ.i.p.al of a large high school, has to talk to one of her teachers about several parent complaints. The parents have voiced concerns about the teacher's cursing during cla.s.s and making personal calls on her cell phone while she allows her students to leave the cla.s.s, goof off, and make their own calls. In this situation "armoring up" can take several forms.

One is that Susan can fill out the probation form and have it sitting on her desk when the teacher comes in. She'll simply say, "Here's the complaint. I've written you up for the following offenses. Sign here and don't let it happen again." She's knocked out the meeting in three minutes flat. There's no feedback, no growth, no learning, but it's over. The odds of the teacher changing her behaviors are slim.

Another way we armor up is by convincing ourselves that the other person deserves to be hurt or put down. Like most of us, Susan is more comfortable with anger than vulnerability, so she ratchets up her confidence with a little self-righteousness. "I'm so sick of this. If these teachers respected me, they'd never do stuff like this. I've had it. She's been a problem since the first day I met her. You want to jack around in cla.s.s-go for it. I'll show you exactly how this works." The opportunity for constructive feedback and relationship building turns into a smackdown. Again, it's over but there is no feedback, no growth, no learning and, more than likely, no change.

I'll admit that I've got a lot of "bring it on" in me. I'm sc.r.a.ppy, I think fast on my feet, and I like my emotions with a little agency. I'm good at anger and only so-so at vulnerability, so armoring up before a vulnerable experience is attractive to me. Luckily, this work has taught me that when I feel self-righteous, it means I'm afraid. It's a way to puff up and protect myself when I'm afraid of being wrong, making someone angry, or getting blamed.

SITTING ON THE SAME SIDE OF THE TABLE.

In my social work training, a lot of attention was paid to how we talk to people, even down to where and how we sit. For example, I would never talk to a client across a desk; I would walk around my desk and sit in a chair across from the client so there was nothing big and bulky between us. I remember the first time I went in to see one of my social work professors about a grade. She got up from behind her desk and asked me to take a seat at a small round table she had in her office. She pulled up a chair and sat next to me.

In armoring up for that conversation, I had pictured her sitting behind her big metal desk and me defiantly sliding my paper across it and demanding an explanation for my grade. After she sat down next to me, I put the paper on the table. As she said, "I'm so glad that you came in to talk to me about your paper. You did a great job on this; I loved your conclusion," and patted me on the back, I awkwardly realized that we were on the same side of the table.

Totally dis...o...b..bulated, I blurted, "Thank you. I worked really hard on it."

She nodded and said, "I can tell. Thank you. I took some points off for your APA formatting. I'd like for you to focus on that and get it cleaned up. You could submit this for publication, and I don't want the reference formatting to hold you back."

I was still confused. She thinks it's publishable? She liked it?

"Do you need some help with the APA formatting? It's tricky and it took me years to get it down," she asked. (A great example of normalizing.) I told her that I'd fix the references and I asked her if she'd look at my revisions. She happily agreed and gave me a few tips on the process. I thanked her for her time and left, grateful for my grade and for a teacher who cared as much as she did.

Today, "Sitting on the same side of the table" is my metaphor for feedback. I used it to create my Engaged Feedback Checklist: I know I'm ready to give feedback when: I'm ready to sit next to you rather than across from you; I'm willing to put the problem in front of us rather than between us (or sliding it toward you); I'm ready to listen, ask questions, and accept that I may not fully understand the issue; I want to acknowledge what you do well instead of picking apart your mistakes; I recognize your strengths and how you can use them to address your challenges; I can hold you accountable without shaming or blaming you; I'm willing to own my part; I can genuinely thank you for your efforts rather than criticize you for your failings; I can talk about how resolving these challenges will lead to your growth and opportunity; and I can model the vulnerability and openness that I expect to see from you.

You can find a printed copy of this checklist on my website (www.brenebrown.com).

How would education be different if students, teachers, and parents sat on the same side of the table? How would engagement change if leaders sat down next to folks and said, "Thank you for your contributions. Here's how you're making a difference. This issue is getting in the way of your growth, and I think we can tackle it together. What ideas do you have about moving forward? What role do you think I'm playing in the problem? What can I do differently to support you?"

Let's go back to the example with Susan, the princ.i.p.al who was armoring up for a smackdown. If she read through this checklist she'd realize that she's not in a place to give feedback, to be a leader. But with parenting complaints stacking up on her desk, time is an issue for her and she knows the situation needs to be addressed. It can be very difficult to move into the right head and heart s.p.a.ce to give feedback when we're under pressure.

So, how do we create a safe s.p.a.ce for vulnerability and growth when we're not feeling open? Armored feedback doesn't facilitate lasting and meaningful change-I don't know a single person who can be open to accepting feedback or owning responsibility for something when they're being hammered. Our hardwiring takes over and we self-protect.

Susan's best bet is to model the openness that she hopes to see, and solicit feedback from one of her colleagues. When I interviewed partic.i.p.ants who valued feedback and worked at it, they talked about the necessity of soliciting feedback from their peers, asking for advice, and even role-playing difficult situations. If we're not willing to ask for feedback and receive it, we'll never be good at giving it. If Susan can work through her own feelings so that she can be present with her employee, she's much more likely to see the change that she's requesting.

Some of you might be wondering, "Susan's employee problem is pretty straightforward and small. Why would she need to spend time soliciting feedback from one of her colleagues for a problem like that?" It's a good question with an important answer: The size, severity, or complexity of a problem doesn't always reflect our emotional reactivity to it. If Susan can't get to the same side of the table with this teacher, it doesn't matter how simple the problem is or how clear the violation is. What Susan might learn from her peer is that she's really triggered by this particular teacher or that she's armoring up because unprofessional behavior is becoming a dangerous norm among this cl.u.s.ter of teachers. Giving and soliciting feedback is about learning and growth, and understanding who we are and how we respond to the people around us is the foundation in this process.

Again, there's no question that feedback may be one of the most difficult arenas to negotiate in our lives. We should remember, though, that victory is not getting good feedback, avoiding giving difficult feedback, or avoiding the need for feedback. Instead it's taking off the armor, showing up, and engaging.

THE COURAGE TO BE VULNERABLE.

I recently gave a talk at the University of Houston's Wolff Center for Entrepreneurship. The program, which pairs thirty-five to forty elite undergraduate students with mentors and offers comprehensive business training, is ranked as the leading undergrad entrepreneurship program in the United States. I was asked to talk to the students about vulnerability and the power of story.

During the Q&A session after my talk, one of the students asked me a question that I'm sure is often on the minds of people when I talk about vulnerability. He said, "I can see how vulnerability is important, but I'm in sales and I don't get what that looks like. Does being vulnerable mean that if a customer asks me a question about a product and I don't know the answer, I just say what I'm thinking: 'I'm new and I really don't know what I'm doing?'"

The students, who were all turned around listening to him, turned back in their chairs and looked at me as if to say, "Yeah, that seems lame. Are we really supposed to do that?"

My answer was no. And yes. In that scenario vulnerability is recognizing and owning that you don't know something; it's looking the customer in the eye and saying, "I don't know the answer to that, but I'll find out. I want to make sure you have the correct information." I explained that the unwillingness to engage with the vulnerability of not knowing often leads to making excuses, dodging the question, or-worst-case scenario-bulls.h.i.tting. That's the deathblow in any relationship, and the one thing I've learned from talking to people who sell for a living is that sales is all about relationships.

So, while I wouldn't take that tack with the customer, I do think there's some value in sharing the feeling of not knowing what you're doing with someone-whether a mentor who can offer support and guidance or a colleague who can help you learn and normalize your experience. Imagine the stress and anxiety of not knowing what you're doing, trying to convince a customer that you do, not being able to ask for help, and not having anyone to talk to about your struggle. This is how we lose people. It's too difficult to stay engaged in these circ.u.mstances. We start cutting corners, we stop caring, and we check out. After my talk, one of the mentors came up to me and said, "I've been in sales my entire career, and let me tell you, there's nothing more important than having the courage to say, 'I don't know,' and 'I messed up'-being honest and open is key to success in every part of our lives."

Last year I had the opportunity to interview Gay Gaddis, the owner and founder of T3 (The Think Tank) in Austin, Texas. T3 is a top integrated marketing firm that specializes in innovative marketing campaigns that cut across all media. In 1989, Gay cashed in a sixteen-thousand-dollar IRA with the dream of starting an advertising agency. Twenty-three years after opening with a handful of regional accounts, Gay has built T3 into the nation's largest advertising agency wholly owned by a woman. With offices in Austin, New York, and San Francisco, T3 works with clients including Microsoft, UPS, JPMorgan Chase, Pfizer, Allstate, Coca-Cola, and Sprite. Her dynamic business ac.u.men and corporate culture have led to national recognition. She has been named one of Fast Company's Top 25 Women Business Builders, Inc. magazine's Top 10 Entrepreneurs of the Year, and one of the top 25 Advertising Working Mothers of the Year by Working Mother magazine. Gay and T3's family-friendly workplace program, "T3 and Under," was even recognized by the White House.

I jumped right into my interview with Gay by telling her that a business journalist had recently told me that, unlike leaders in corporations who are shielded by layers of systems, entrepreneurs can't afford to be vulnerable. When I asked her what she thought about that proposition, she smiled. "When you shut down vulnerability, you shut down opportunity."

Here's how she explained it: "By definition, entrepreneurship is vulnerable. It's all about the ability to handle and manage uncertainty. People are constantly changing, budgets change, boards change, and compet.i.tion means you have to stay nimble and innovative. You have to create a vision and live up to that vision. There is no vision without vulnerability."

Knowing that Gay spends a considerable amount of time teaching and mentoring, I asked her what advice she gives new entrepreneurs about embracing uncertainty. She said, "Success requires entrepreneurs to cultivate strong support networks and good mentors. You need to learn how to shut out the noise so you can get clear on how you feel and what you think, and then you do the hard work. No question-it's all about vulnerability."

Another great example of the power of vulnerability-this time in a corporation-is the leadership approach taken by Lululemon's CEO, Christine Day. In a video interview with CNN Money, Day explained that she was once a very bright, smart executive who "majored in being right." Her transformation came when she realized that getting people to engage and take ownership wasn't about "the telling" but about letting them come into the idea in a purpose-led way, and that her job was creating the s.p.a.ce for others to perform. She characterized this change as the shift from "having the best idea or problem solving" to "being the best leader of people."

The shift she described is the shift from controlling to engaging with vulnerability-taking risks and cultivating trust. And while vulnerability can sometimes make us feel powerless, her shift was a total power move. Day has increased the number of stores from 71 to 174, while total revenue has grown from $297 million to almost $1 billion, and Lululemon's stock is up about 300 percent since its 2007 IPO.

In a written interview with Day accompanying the video, the idea of vulnerability as the birthplace of creativity, innovation, and trust continued to play out-even when it comes to failure and defeat. One of Day's leadership guideposts is "finding the magic makers." As Day explained, "Taking responsibility, taking risks, and having an entrepreneurial spirit are qualities we look for in our employees. We want people who bring their own magic. Athletes are great within our culture; they're used to winning as well as losing. They know how to handle-and fix-defeat." Day also emphasized the importance of allowing people to make mistakes: "Our golden rule? If you screw up, you clean it up."

In businesses, schools, faith communities-any system, even families-we can tell a lot about how people engage with vulnerability by observing how often and how openly you hear people saying:

* I don't know.

* I need help.

* I'd like to give it a shot.

* It's important to me.

* I disagree-can we talk about it?

* It didn't work, but I learned a lot.

* Yes, I did it.

* Here's what I need.

* Here's how I feel.

* I'd like some feedback.

* Can I get your take on this?

* What can I do better next time?

* Can you teach me how to do this?

* I played a part in that.

* I accept responsibility for that.

* I'm here for you.

* I want to help.

* Let's move on.

* I'm sorry.

* That means a lot to me.

* Thank you.

For leaders, vulnerability often looks and feels like discomfort. In his book Tribes: We Need You to Lead Us, Seth G.o.din writes, "Leadership is scarce because few people are willing to go through the discomfort required to lead. This scarcity makes leadership valuable....It's uncomfortable to stand up in front of strangers. It's uncomfortable to propose an idea that might fail. It's uncomfortable to challenge the status quo. It's uncomfortable to resist the urge to settle. When you identify the discomfort, you've found the place where a leader is needed. If you're not uncomfortable in your work as a leader, it's almost certain you're not reaching your potential as a leader."

As I looked over the data and read through my notes from the interviews I've done with leaders, I wondered what students would say to teachers and what teachers would say to their princ.i.p.als if they had the opportunity to ask for the leadership they needed. I wondered what the customer service representative would say to his boss and what she might ask of her boss. What do we want people to know about us and what do we need from them?

As I started writing down the answers to these questions, I realized that they sounded like a mandate; a manifesto. Here's what emerged from these questions: The Daring Greatly

Leadership Manifesto

To the CEOs and teachers. To the princ.i.p.als and the managers. To the politicians, community leaders, and decision-makers: We want to show up, we want to learn, and we want to inspire.

We are hardwired for connection, curiosity, and engagement.

We crave purpose, and we have a deep desire to create and contribute.

We want to take risks, embrace our vulnerabilities, and be courageous.

When learning and working are dehumanized-when you no longer see us and no longer encourage our daring, or when you only see what we produce or how we perform-we disengage and turn away from the very things that the world needs from us: our talent, our ideas, and our pa.s.sion.

What we ask is that you engage with us, show up beside us, and learn from us.

Feedback is a function of respect; when you don't have honest conversations with us about our strengths and our opportunities for growth, we question our contributions and your commitment.

Above all else, we ask that you show up, let yourself be seen, and be courageous. Dare Greatly with us.

You can find a printed copy of this manifesto on my website (www.brenebrown.com).

CHAPTER 7.

WHOLEHEARTED.

PARENTING:.

DARING TO BE THE ADULTS.

WE WANT OUR CHILDREN TO BE.

Who we are and how we engage with the world are much stronger predictors of how our children will do than what we know about parenting. In terms of teaching our children to dare greatly in the "never enough" culture, the question isn't so much "Are you parenting the right way?" as it is: "Are you the adult that you want your child to grow up to be?"

PARENTING IN A CULTURE OF NEVER ENOUGH.