Seemingly out of nowhere this week, a moment flashed from my fairly recent past. It was 2012 in New York City. I was working as a communication coach, leading a multi-day workshop for business leaders from different companies. Our promise to them was that they would find their inner self and truly embody what it means to be a powerful communicator and presenter.
We had been together for three entire days and moving into the final opportunity for coaching – each client had been coached given feedback at least six or seven times. I can’t remember the company that he worked for – was it financial services? Non-profit? It doesn’t really matter. But, I do know that our group included clients of different genders, ethnicities, and geographic locations and industries.
I don’t remember his name, but I can still see his face, what he was wearing and recall that he had a strong physical presence. For this particular client, I had been coaching him hard all week to bring more power, more confidence, and more authority to his speaking style (this was his chosen goal). The way he communicated didn’t match his physical appearance. The softness in his voice and lack of eye contact betrayed his strong, grounded stance. I knew he had the ability within himself to bring strength to his message, but I had only seen small glimpses the entire week and was left scratching my head why he wasn’t “going there” all the way.
When I’m coaching someone, I share that my coaching is meant to help them expand their range – it might be helping someone who is overly direct bring more warmth, someone who speaks really fast to slow down to better connect, a leader who struggles with delegating to give someone else a chance to complete the project. It’s always about expansion in my mind, adding more of who we are and taking away parts of us that don’t serve us any longer. It’s never about completely changing who we are, per se.
I knew I had one more shot to push him to try on some new ways of speaking before he went back to his workplace, back to his team, back to the environment that allowed him to blend in, blocking his power and strength to influence others. It was the last chance to help him “try on” a new way of being in the world to see how he looked and sounded.
I coached him to “say it like you really want us to get it, like you’re saying this for the last time.” And he did. He brought one more notch of energy to his voice, formed his words so you could read his lips, which brought greater life to his facial expressions. His idea landed like a dart hitting the bullseye. From my spot in the back of the room, I could see his fellow participants smiling at the impact he was creating by overcoming the hesitance to let his voice be heard. It was an incredibly powerful and impactful moment. He nailed it. And we had captured all of it on video for him to take away with him after the workshop. This was proof of the “progress” he had worked so hard to create for the past three days.
Except, from the front of the room, he didn’t seem as though he had “nailed it.” It was more like the look on his face and his body language was communicating, “There, I did it. I hope you’re happy now.” By the way, it isn’t uncommon to see someone create a breakthrough moment, followed by surprise when their fellow participants share that their power, the projection in their voice, the expression on their face, etc. isn’t “too much.” This often helps them realize their progress and creates buy-in for taking on new behaviors, like pausing longer, making eye contact or projecting their voice more.
Then, I finally learned what was holding him back the entire workshop. In response to feedback, he said it – to an entire group of strangers – or rather, new friends, I’d prefer to say:
“I am afraid of coming across like an angry black man.”
His statement was barely finished before the group and I proceeded to reassure him that he simply came across as more confident, more impactful and engaging. I mean, he really did. It was powerful.
But we all missed an incredible opportunity to see – actually see – and acknowledge him in that moment of raw vulnerability. To listen and seek to better understand. To ask him how he wanted to best “show up” when sharing his ideas through spoken word, given what he was also experiencing internally. We missed the opportunity to validate what he so courageously shared.
Looking back, I now realize I didn’t validate him because I didn’t believe his perspective to be true or accurate. At least not through my lens of being straight, white, male (read, my privilege and my ignorance). It’s not that I blatantly felt that way. I just didn’t see it. Regardless, here’s what I was indirectly communicating – “Come on, you’re overthinking it. You’re worrying for no reason. Just throw your worries aside and be stronger when you speak.” Because I have permission, even encouragement, to walk into a room and be loud, strong, direct with no repercussions. This I now see and acknowledge…and take advantage of.
While I’d like to think my coaching skills have improved much in the past eight years, I know I must be ever-present to the unique challenges that keep all of us from fully expressing ourselves, from letting others fully see us, especially in the workplace. I do this through listening intently and asking questions. We’d all be served better by doing this.
So if you are this former client of mine, please forgive me. I’m sorry. I was coaching through the invisible lens of my white privilege. Over the past two years of my coaching journey, I’ve never been more aware of the fact that my life experiences aren’t anyone else’s, which has served me well to stay in a “coaching stance” (inquiry, asking questions, helping my clients discover) instead of a “consultant stance” (providing answers, telling you what to try). Over the past month, I’ve never been more sensitive to the fact that being unaware or choosing to ignore my privilege can be downright damaging to others.
Wherever you are my friend, I hope your voice is strong, clear, and impactful and that your message is cutting through any noise that tries to drown it out. You are strong and powerful and we need your voice now more than ever.