Calling Each Other Out and Calling Each Other In: The Grit & Grace of Accountability

“We’re good at calling each other out. But can we call each other in?” That was the question someone posed in a recent webinar I attended on the #metoo movement.

On that webinar, I heard wonderful men of all races and ages say that they genuinely want to become more aware and skillful in gender relations, but they withdraw because it feels too dangerous. I also heard women who want to express support for men, but stay silent to avoid being excommunicated for being anti-feminist. And I heard women who are just so frustrated that they read men the riot act or walk away in peeved silence.

How can we bridge this gap if we’re hiding in our corners or taking each other’s heads off?

We long for a higher standard in our behavior toward each other, and I think there’s something healthy and hopeful about this new call to accountability. But our way of holding each other to that higher standard is so limited. Calling each other out – through shame and blame – seems to be our grit-laced go-to for accountability.

Don’t get me wrong. There are many situations where unequivocal public call-outs and fierce corrections are the right response. Harvey Weinstein (who is being arraigned as I write this) and Matt Lauer come to mind. These aren’t well-intentioned guys who are fumbling to get it right. They are drunk on power and heedless of the pain they cause. And while these are very public figures, we’ve known (or known of) those guys in our own lives. Behavior like theirs should be met with righteous grit: unambiguous line-drawing, public outcry, and no-kidding consequences. The act of “calling out” belongs here and I’m all for it.

But as author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie says, “There is a difference between malice and a mistake.” Much of the sexist behavior I’ve encountered hasn’t come from a malicious dominating intent, but rather from a lack of inner and outer awareness. I’m going to call this ‘garden variety’ sexism. You know: the offhand remark, the interruptions and mansplaining, the feedback about your ‘tone’ (that your male counterparts never receive).

When we encounter garden-variety sexism, we have a choice to make. Do we call him out, pushing him into the cold light of blame, or do we call him in to a deeper conversation? A lot depends on the context, and those options are the opposite poles in a much wider range of responses.

Calling each other in is for situations where decent but flawed people mess up, and where we see (or hope) that a more respectful relationship is possible.

But what does “calling someone in“ even mean? What does it look like?

  • It means speaking up on behalf of a stronger relationship, not from a place of blame.
  • It means asking for permission to confront. “Bill, you said something in that meeting yesterday that’s still not sitting right with me. Would you be willing to talk it over?” It’s a simple and powerful alignment move that we often overlook.
  • It means preparing for the conversation about intent vs. impact. What’s tricky about garden-variety ‘ism’ behavior is that it’s often done unconsciously and without intent. But a lack of intent doesn’t erase the impact. Talking this distinction through can be a real opportunity for two people to understand each other and true up their actions.
  • It means being humble, knowing that most of us have injured or marginalized someone who was different from us. I may have a legitimate sexist beef with you, but as someone who is white, straight and cis-gendered, I have to remember that I’ve got no high horse to sit on.
  • It also means keeping it real. Calling someone in doesn’t require you to swathe your message in hearts and flowers. Be factual about what happened. Be clear about how it affected you. And after you’ve heard each other out, be specific about what you want to happen differently going forward.

What about you?

Think of a time when you said or did something that someone else experienced as hurtful or demeaning. How would you have wanted him or her to address that with you?

Can you recall sexist situations in which you responded either more wimpily or fiercely than the situation required? What did you learn from that?

How do you make the distinction between when to call someone out and when to call him in?

What does each mode invite you to attend to, summon, or manage in yourself?


Interested in developing your own or your team’s capacity in this area? Contact me today!

“Don’t Say That To Me. Don’t Do That To Me. I Hate It.”

(Photo credit: Girl Statue by Kristen Visbal)

“Don’t say that to me. Don’t do that to me. I hate it.”  That’s the phrase that author Barbara Kingsolver teaches her daughters to say when they want someone to stop what they’re doing. Nothing passive or aggressive about it; just a clear “cut it out.”

In this #MeToo, #Time’sUp moment, when women have had it with sexual misconduct and men are ducking for cover, we’re all being asked to establish new levels of respect for each other and ourselves.  Much of what’s been written has focused on what (mostly) male abusers need to do differently. To that, I say, “Amen” and “At last.” But are women (or any targets of predation) also being called to do something new? I think so. I think there’s a call for us to confront sexual misconduct with more ‘grit.’ Like Barbara Kingsolver is teacher her daughters, women of every age can to learn how to be more direct and fierce at the boundaries.

Actor David Schwimmer and director Sigal Avin recently co-produced a series of short videos enacting scenes of women being sexually harassed. (A disclaimer here. Portraying harassment of only women, and only white- and light-skinned women at that, the series has some serious limitations. But it’s a well-done start, worth checking out.) The videos’ intent is to help men and women better recognize harassment when it happens. The hope is that  recognizing harassment – by anyone and toward anyone – will help us interrupt it.

What struck me most in the series was how often the women tried to stop harassment through demure, ‘grace-filled’ strategies: averting the eyes, smiling or laughing, ignoring or redirecting behavior, treating come-on lines as compliments, etc. The mushy responses in the videos felt so familiar to me that I felt sick to my stomach watching them.

I know why it happens… why I’ve done that stuff myself. As a harasser creeps in, the harass-ee intuitively knows that standing up for herself (/himself) could make things worse. The aggressor could become embarrassed or angry and step up the aggression. Because of that risk, many people being harassed often soften their own edges in the hope of getting the intrusion to fade.

While this is certainly one strategy, it’s pretty limited. Submissive behavior rarely stops a power play. Worse yet, smiles and laughter can signal to the harasser – who is, by definition, self-interested – a consent that does not exist. Here’s a quote, I think from Melissa Harris-Perry, that sums it up: “If you’re not having fun or do not agree, don’t smile or nod.”

When someone crosses a boundary, we don’t push him back by a blurry response. We redraw the line in bolder relief. 

Being bold does not equate to being bitchy. Boldness can just mean being rooted in your own, clear dignity and integrity. 

When I think of this kind of boldness, I think about the unshakable quality of a mountain.  Firm. Grounded. Unmovable. Without attack. Meeting a harassment situation with this kind of steadfast authority is often the most effective. 

Still, we all know there is no safe path when confronting harassment. Assertion and submission each has its risks, and the risks vary significantly, depending on your race, gender and sexual orientation. Nevertheless, after watching Schwimmer’s videos, I realized that it behooves women to expand their repertoire of responses beyond coquettish avoidance.

This is way easier said than done. But here are a few thoughts about how to bring more of that mountain-like ‘grit’ to address a harassment situation.

  1. Fine-tune your internal “ick-ometer.” There is a point in every harassment where the interaction turns from normal to creepy. And at the point of that crossing, it’s common for the harass-ee to doubt the validity of her own revulsion. “I’m probably misreading this. Maybe I’m being too sensitive. Who am I kidding – someone this high up wouldn’t be taking an interest in me.” But know this. These doubts aren’t your allies; they’re the harasser’s. As your most reliable gauge of what’s ok and not, your “ick-ometer” is your best alert system. Get familiar with the dials.
  2. Respect your instrument readings. Whether or not someone intends a transgression is irrelevant. You are feeling creeped out, so something needs to shift. Whether anyone else in the same situation would feel uncomfortable is also irrelevant. What matters is that you do. Respect that.
  3. Act early. Every move in a real or perceived harassment throws us off-balance mentally, emotionally, and physically. That’s what harassment is intended to do. So the longer the harassing behavior continues, the more you lose your own center. And the more off-balance you are, the less likely you’ll be to respond effectively. If you go into shutdown or explosion mode, the harasser will likely use that to impugn you. “Hey – you never said anything. I’m supposed to be a mind reader now?” or “Whoa, Missy, what the hell is up with you?” Suddenly, you become the problem in this story. The earlier you can stand your ground, the clearer and calmer you’ll stand it.
  4. Have a plan. Harassment is inherently disorienting, so you probably won’t have access to your best thinking when your boss’ hand sneaks onto your thigh. So it helps to prepare some retorts for a moment like this. The most effective phrases are simple ones that clearly state your position without attacking the other:
    • “Please don’t say (do) that.”
    • “Nothing is going to happen here. So let’s either stick to the agenda or postpone this meeting.”
    • “Are you aware that what you’re doing now may constitute sexual harassment?”
    • “Dude. No.”

In addition to planning what you might say, you might plan out what you would do. Move away? Call a break? Stand up? Leave the room?

The bottom line is this: before a harassment starts down the runway, identify the exits.

For many, setting respectful, yet unapologetic boundaries can be a life’s work. And after all that work, standing your ground doesn’t guarantee a good outcome. But neither does demureness. Because so many victims of abuse and harassment have spoken out, you and I now have more room to speak. Awareness is growing daily. Productive anger is rising up and claiming its place. Truth is having an impact. More than ever before, there’s an opening to confront harassment – not just with grace, but also with some clean, clear grit.