Rebellious Thoughts of a Woman

A defensive person creates community by changing. That’s the facile answer, though one with lots of truth.

Both the change and the community may take time to develop, and the shape they take is influenced by the other, but time and need can do magic.

Recently, I participated in a community event at my synagogue where we practiced having conversations on divisive topics with no talking over, no disruptions, and lots of “I hear that you’re saying’s.”

Me, with my master’s degree in Conflict Analysis and Resolution and mediation certificate, should have done so well. Yet, I got upset when a woman in my conversation triad said to me, “I hear that you’re saying you want more control over immigration [the topic we were discussing].” If I was a porcupine, my bristles would have been up! A red button was pressed. I was about to turn her off, not listening to her rephrasing of my points and then her own points. But I wasn’t just there for the potluck, I was there to grow in my interactions, to be a better practitioner in my daily life of the skills I had studied (clearly, the learning was still in-progress), and to grow in applying them, as well as learn some new ones.

Control. A trigger word for me.

A few years after my divorce, I briefly lived with a boyfriend. In one of our first conversations, we talked about what we needed from the other that we hadn’t gotten in our marriages (he was twice divorced). For him, it was not to be walked out on during an argument. For me, it was control: not to feel that he is telling me what to do. I had enough of that in my marriage, which was a key reason why I’m no longer married.

So, one day, when he said, “I’d like you to wear dresses when we go out,” I didn’t feel his appreciation of how I look when I get dressed up. No, I heard “Do this.”

Had he been paying attention? This was telling me, even if through a compliment, what to do. Also, I rarely wore dresses. Between having to wear them when I was growing up (parental control and a bit of rebellion when I could get out of wearing the dreaded dress and torturous stockings) and feeling that I look like a barrel in a dress. It didn’t matter how I looked: I was uncomfortable. Why did it matter to him?

Sometimes defensiveness protected me, helped me stick to my decisions. At other times it closed me off from realizing what was bothering me or how I was being a bother.

We will never know all a person’s triggers, or even our own, which is why it’s so important to learn how to do a better job at having conversations. Bitterness and defensiveness aren’t building blocks. How to transform them? The why is clear to me, because I have come to value interactions as much as solitude.

Thinking of the “how,” I realize that I need to stand still within myself, noticing my reactions to what other people say, and their reactions to what I say. We all react through the filter of our experiences. Which means that I need to not expect more understanding from anyone than the moment gives. They don’t see into me and I don’t see into them. We may be creating a relationship, but that could only happen if walls aren’t up, and ears and hearts aren’t blocked with histories. I need to want this moment to exist, to breathe, to not let triggers overtake me.

“For me, ‘control,’ is a trigger word,” I said, willing myself to speak up, not to embed anger or frustration into the moment. And with that, we talked about how a conversation could be diverted so easily. Underlying every conversation is the connection itself, because without it, topical conversations can’t move forward.

For those 40 minutes of honesty, the three of us created community. I went home humbled, disappointed in myself, but also a slightly better version of myself. Community is not simply created by individuals meeting; it is created by individuals overlapping with purpose and respect.