Parker Palmer, an acclaimed sociologist, recently said this about working as a community organizer:
In the interview, Palmer went on to tell a story of working with a church in a rapidly changing neighborhood. He gave congregants a questionnaire and sent them walking door to door to introduce themselves and ask for stories about their lives. Afterward they gathered over meals to share what they’d learned, and the “research” led to establishing a community center with a resolve to avoid repeating histories of redlining, blockbusting, and gentrification.
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Last night over dinner I brainstormed with a friend who would like to train ordinary citizens to become “local anthropologists” for this same purpose. I said one of the best perks of being an anthropology professor is that not only do I have an ever-ready excuse to strike up conversations with strangers, I can also pass along that excuse to students. Every semester I give assignments like, “Go interview someone who is to you ‘a stranger,’” or “Go learn how people who are in some way different from you experience an institution you share.” They come back with stories of what they learned, and more importantly, a joyful empowerment to keep on talking with strangers.
I was recently given this same sort of permission in the form of an assignment for a local diversity training I participated in. Told to investigate some diversity-related topic, I decided to learn more about why my children’s small town school district has remained so predominantly white. I asked an older Black man about his experiences as one of the first people of color to move into the town, and he told stories of white neighbors crossing to the opposite side of the street from him, and organizing to fend off KKK proselytizers. I dropped in at the local historical museum and read about Mississippian, Ho-Chunk, Irish, Dutch, and German people who called this place home, and asked the curator to tell more about the groups who have not felt welcome to call it home.
If I may, I’d like to put on my professor’s hat and give you an assignment. Calm your anxiety!—there will be no grades or late penalties. My only hope is to gift you some permission to make time for brave listening.
Parker Palmer also quoted the feminist author Nelle Morton, saying we need to “hear people into deeper speech.” Who could you hear into deeper speech? Maybe you need to hold your tongue long enough to listen to that disagreeable relative at a family gathering, or set up lunch with a local leader who amazes you, or knock on the door the oldest neighbor on your block. What if you were to lean in and tune your soul toward listening as you mollify those twitchy impulses to fix, save, judge, and correct?
In my own life hardly anything gets done without deadlines, so let’s put a deadline on this. How about December 31. And why not turn in your homework—I’d love for you to take a few minutes to email me your brave stories, and I hope to share some here in the coming weeks.
As a friend’s email signature reads, “Be brave. Be kind.” I look forward to hearing what you listen into being.
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