I’m an introvert. Wanna hang out? (But not tonight.)

I’m an introvert.

It was my birthday last weekend, and it got me thinking about how much I’ve grown in recent years. The person I am today is a fundamentally different human being from the person I was 10 years ago.

I’ve realized that one key ingredient in the process is that phrase: I’m an introvert. I didn’t become an introvert in the last decade. I’ve always been an introvert. The foundational shift for me has been recognizing and embracing that truth about myself.

A common misconception about introverts is that we don’t like people, or that we’re shy and socially awkward. Some of us may be these things–and that’s okay!–but that’s not what makes us introverted.

It’s all about energy. I’m going to let Schroeder Jones take this one:

It’s not an A/B choice – we’re all somewhere in between.

I’m not completely on the introverted side of the scale, but I’m pretty close. I also really love people (most of the time).

As an introvert who loves people (and who, as a result, most people don’t think of as an introvert), accepting that I’m an introvert and figuring out how to manage my energy accordingly has been hugely unlocking for me.

There are three practices in particular that have made me a happier and (I think) more successful people-loving introvert, friend and colleague.

Practice #1: Telling people I’m an introvert.

Knowing that most people still tend to think introvert = shy & antisocial, this was a tough habit to get into. But it’s been by far the most important for me.

When I’m sharing this about myself, I try to explain what it might mean to the person I’m speaking with:

Since we’re spending two days together at this team retreat, I want you to know that I’m going to need to have a bit of time on my own. It’s not anything to do with you or anyone else—I just need to recharge my batteries. It’s what I need to be most effective in our work together.

Opening this conversation still feels a bit odd and uncomfortably personal, especially in work settings. But it’s worth it.

I’ve found that sharing this piece of myself has made my relationships with colleagues and friends stronger, and has created space to discuss other elements of what’s working (or not) as time goes on.

Plus, the more I practice, the easier it gets.

You_know_it_boom

Learning so many things.

 

Practice #2: Recognizing when people are reacting to my introversion VS to me as a person.

There’s a common theme in feedback I receive:

  • ½ the time, I hear “Sam’s a great communicator, open, adaptable and easy to talk to.
  • ½ the time I hear “Sam’s cold and aloof, she can be unapproachable and intimidating.

For ages, I couldn’t wrap my head around it: how could I be both easy to talk to and unapproachable? Open and aloof? Who am I? WHAT AM I???

After years of fumbling for an answer, the coach I’m working with as part of this amazing fellowship helped me turn on the lights.

“What do you make of that feedback?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I sighed, “It’s confusing.”
He grinned, “You know what was the first thing I realized about you after I read those comments?”
I shook my head.
“You’re an introvert.”

It clicked: these comments aren’t necessarily about “me” as a person, they’re about how I’m managing my energy.

  • The people who’ve found me to be aloof and cold? They’re remembering catching me in moments when my energy was low, leaving me ill-equipped to interact effectively with others.
  • The people who’ve found me open and easy to talk to? They’ve met me at peak energy for people.

For the first time, I understand that becoming the best version of myself isn’t necessarily about changing these specific characteristics. It’s more about managing my energy more effectively, so that I’m most often interacting with others when my batteries are fully charged.

High-5s for introverts!

High-5s for introverts

 

Practice #3: Accepting my “me” time is sacred. There is no substitute.

I’m a curious person. Especially in a city like Toronto, there’s always something I want to do or see or taste or make. I’m also blessed with a mass of fun, generous, interesting friends that I want to learn from and hang out with.

I’m fortunate in that, if I wanted to have something on the go every evening of the week, I could.

But if I do, without taking time for myself… look out.
I. become. A GRUMP.
To put it mildly.

I (and some of those friends, whom I love so dearly, thankyouthankyou) have learned this the hard way.

It’s my job to make sure I get what I need. No one is responsible for managing my energy but me. I’m still learning how to say “no”, how to tell people that I can’t make it this evening because I have a date with myself – or to be comfortable not justifying my polite decline at all.

I haven’t figured it out yet.

But the more I practice, the happier I am. I’m a better friend, I have more energy and I find myself able to soak in the fullness of the awesome things I do choose to do with others.

Allie gets it.

Allie gets it.

I like that I’m an introvert.

I like that I have fun by myself, and with other people. It’s taken the last decade to embrace that, and I’m sure it’ll take another (and possibly a lifetime) to really learn how to bring out the best in myself.

Luckily, I’m also pretty sure it’s going to be a good one.

‘Mixed’ is not an identity

When someone asks me, “What are you?” the conversation usually goes something like this:

“So… what are you?”
“I’m mixed, half Chinese and half white.”
“No way! I had no idea.”
“Yep.”
“Like, one of your parents is full Chinese?”
“Yep.”
“But you look white!”
“Yep.”
“Can I guess if it’s your mom or dad who’s Chinese? I bet it’s your mom.”
“Yeah. She was born and raised in Trinidad, though. She’s never been to China. And my dad’s from the UK.”
“That’s crazy. Do you speak Chinese?”
“No, I don’t speak Cantonese or Mandarin. Or Hakka, which is actually what that side of my family speaks.”
“That’s so cool.”

To be honest, I don’t want to have this conversation. I want to shut it down and move on.

It’s not that I don’t want to talk about or I’m embarrassed of my heritage. I think it’s in large part how the subject is usually broached:

That metaphor was so weird, even the internet didn't have any pictures to go with it. So here's a cat instead.

That metaphor was so weird, even the internet didn’t know what to do with it. So here’s a cat.

 

Like kids who think they’ve caught a beetle, people start out curious about me because I look a bit different.

Then they notice the beetle’s wearing a bow tie. Weird!

Further investigation required. Time to grab the microscope.

(Yes, in this case the beetle is me. No, I’m not crazy about being examined.)

 

Plus, ‘mixed’ doesn’t feel like an identity to me. I don’t feel like it says anything about my lived experience or creates a sense of community with others who would also identify as ‘mixed’.

The experiences of mixed race people are incredibly diverse. As a white-presenting, cisgendered, straight woman, I experience a great deal of privilege. Being a racial mix of white and Chinese (or any Asian heritage) is also commonly seen as a positive attribute (though it can certainly deteriorate into objectification and othering of the ‘exotic’ – in high school, a girl once said to me, “Half Asians are either, like, amazingly beautiful or super ugly.”)

Only other mixed people are able to really relate to my experiences as a mixed person. But, I find, we rarely talk about it. Every time–except for one–that I’ve met another mixed person, we mostly ignore this thing we have in common. We might exchange a nod or a short conversation about our ethnic backgrounds, a brief laugh about the annoyance of getting asked “What are you?”, but it rarely goes beyond that.

I’m certainly part of the reason for that, and I’ve only recently begun to consider why.

I think it’s because I don’t want to chance having that same “what are you” conversation again, and I want to be respectful of the fact that they probably don’t want to have it either. It’s because I’m acutely aware that I look white and I assume they don’t think we have anything in common. It’s because it’s just a little… awkward.

Increasingly, I’m thinking that my awkwardness comes from not feeling like ‘mixed’ is an identity. ‘Mixed’ feels more like a placeholder, a sticky note holding the page until we get more information. Go a layer deeper, and we’ll know if we actually have something in common: I’m ethnically half Chinese and half white, and you’re half Filipino and half Jamaican? Cool. I guess we’ll stop the conversation there. But wait! My mother’s from Trinidad? Now we can reminisce about having parents from the Caribbean.

I think those of us who are mixed race have important lived experiences that we could and should build a community around, and that we’d get a lot from having that kind of community. Perhaps I feel the absence of a community more acutely because I don’t feel particularly connected to any of the ethnic communities of my heritage – I haven’t been in touch with my mother or her family since I was a teenager, and my father and stepmum (both Brits) have never been part of that community.

It could be we need a better word in order for this to happen. But ‘mixed’ is the least offensive option I’ve come across so far. That doesn’t mean it’s the right one. But if you call me a ‘halfer’—or worse yet a ‘mixie’—it may get me picturing your face covered in Slimer slime.

slimer

The only other linguistic option I feel is feasible right now is ‘beige’.

“What are you?”
“I’m beige.”

50shadesofbeige

Just picture the awesomely puzzled looks.

It’s not only different language that’s needed, but it’s an important piece. We need a better word than ‘mixed’, one that denotes a common experience and promotes community. Something that the people who fall into the category actually want to claim, to own as an identity.

I just don’t know what it is yet.

Development can’t be sustainable AND strive for growth

Next year, the United Nations’ Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) will expire with victories seen in too few of the eight milestones set.

In their place, the United Nations will put what are being called the Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) – a new set of global milestones (there are currently 17, but my fingers are crossed we’ll narrow the focus) aimed not only at ending global poverty, but doing so in such a way that preserves our Mother Earth and holds both ‘developing’ and ‘developed’ countries accountable for achieving them at home.

This means that under the goals, it will be just as important to address the child poverty epidemic in Toronto, Canada, where 29% of children and rising live in low-income families, as it will be to ensure that the ~2.5 million residents of informal settlements in Nairobi, Kenya have access to basic sanitation and housing infrastructure.

That’s a great thing.

But I’m worried – and not just because the SDGs appear on track to define goals even more ambitious than the MDGs, which we didn’t achieve.

I’m worried because we still seem to be defining development as growth.

For example, I just started reading Jeffery Sachs’ new book, and in the first chapter he says: “SDGs call for socially inclusive and environmentally sustainable economic growth.” (Sachs, The age Of Sustainable Development, p. 13)

Continued growth at the rates we see today is the opposite of sustainable.
I’ve said this before.

The 1972 book Limits to Growth warned us of this, and recent research illustrates that we’re well on our way to fulfilling their predictions.

If we really want the SDGs to guide us towards economic, social and environmental sustainability every one of us needs to eliminate the tired and dangerous idea that development = growth from our lexicon, so we can get down to the vital business of making room for a new definition of development – and then working to achieve it.

GDP is bunk.

The global conversation about poverty and development has started to shift:

We’re (slowly) moving from a notion of “us” (developed countries in the Global North) helping “them” (developing countries in the Global South) end extreme poverty “there”, towards a narrative that frames most countries–regardless of what continent they’re on–as experiencing a deeply devastating (and widening) gap between the rich and poor.

This new way of framing the story was stamped in headlines in recent weeks, driven by the release of economist Thomas Piketty’s new book Capital in the 21st Century adding much-needed analytical meat onto its largely theoretical bones.

I believe this change is vital, because we need to redefine “development” (and change how we approach it in practice accordingly) to have any real hope of one day ending global poverty and conflict.

But before a new story of shared global struggle requiring a truly global solution can fully take hold, there are a few things we need to unlearn.

One big one:

Economic growth ≠ development

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Avoiding a Train Wreck & Pulling Words Off Paper

As I mentioned in my last post, a couple of weeks ago I was fortunate to hear Dr. John Ruggie speak about the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (aka the Ruggie Principles), which he authored.

Here are a couple reflections from that talk, and the discussions I had afterwards:

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Protect, respect, remedy: 3 pillars for business and human rights

This Thursday, I’m excited to have the privilege to hear Dr. John Ruggie speak.

A professor of Human Rights & International Affairs at Harvard, former United Nations Secretary-General’s Special Representative for Business and Human Rights and a Canadian, Ruggie is a force pushing businesses to assume greater responsibility for the people and planet on which they have a huge impact.

With the upcoming talk in mind, I figured I ought to brush up on Ruggie and one of his most widely-known achievements: the 2011United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights – also called the “Ruggie Framework”.

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Four ideas about advocacy evaluation

Advocacy is an art of advancing a cause, idea or policy within political, economic and/or social institutions. It requires an ability to deftly navigate power dynamics, build influence, collaborate with (sometimes unlikely) allies and think on your feet.

Continuous, rigorous evaluation of advocacy is vital to ensure we’re learning from past experiences, pivoting as the ground shifts beneath us and investing our time and energy where it’s most likely to have the biggest return.

But applying traditional evaluation tools to advocacy work tends to miss the mark. At best, approaches like log frames and pre-fixed metrics provide imperfect and incomplete insights into advocacy results. At worst, these approaches can clip the wings of advocates by binding them to static indicators that become increasingly less relevant as the context inevitably changes.

Evaluation approaches for advocacy need to be as adaptive and contextually aware as advocacy work itself. I haven’t quite figured out what this looks like and, while there are many smart people who have been talking about this, I don’t think anyone else has either.

It makes this sandbox an exciting place to play.

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