Taking Grief to Work 2.0

Santosh Kumar - https://www.flickr.com/photos/sntsh/36382208006/, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=94604550

So it's been a few weeks, in fact, almost a month since I last wrote. I like to think that if this blog has any redeeming qualities, one is consistency. So apologies for the radio silence. These pages were never meant to be self-revelatory. They were created to support the publication of both editions of Leadership Matters (2013 and 2019), and as such, be a springboard for the discussion of all things leader-like in museum land. But sometimes life just comes at you, slamming you in the face with your own worst thing. And that's what happened to me. The specifics don't matter so much except to say of the several cataclysmic things that can happen in a lifetime, this was one.

My experience made me think of what Lisa Lee, Director of the National Public Housing Museum, said in her Leadership Matters interview. When I asked her about work/life balance, her response was pure Lisa Lee. She underscored that siloing our energy and thoughts isn't productive, that our lives aren't binary, meaning work versus home. She added "At the museum we pretend we're not grappling with other issues, but we're human beings all day." That seemed like an important statement to me when I heard it the first time, and equally important today as I prepare to return to work. I can't shut off my grief the moment I walk into my office or my first meeting. I have to look it in the face, carry it with me, and move forward.

One of my "sheroes" is Brené Brown. Her short film on the difference between sympathy and empathy is pretty stellar. If you haven't seen it, watch it, because all good leaders should understand that what you say isn't as important as simply being present and reminding the person who's hurt that you recognize pain, maybe you've experienced it yourself, and you're by their side. And it isn't about you. Nothing is worse than a hurting colleague comforting the comforter. Nor is there some unwritten scale of dire events that ranks human reaction. It's not a worst experience contest. As a leader, your job is to respect what happened to your colleague and empathize, not weigh a pet death versus chemotherapy or a car accident. Life is hard, and we all meet challenges differently.

Brené Brown always says presence trumps perfection. There is nothing about being a museum leader that makes you a people fixer, so don't try. Today a colleague asked if she could stop by, and when I said yes, she simply wanted to tell me she was there for me--big or small--lunch companion, after-work walk, chair to sit and rant in. It was incredibly kind, and my only job was to realize she's on my side. I don't think I'm alone in believing that this colleague is someone I can trust because she's willing to sit with me at my lowest. I know I can go to her office and weep if I need to, and she will share the space, metaphorically and actually.

The American workplace, which is the only workplace I know even a little about, is not a place where emotions are on parade. We're not supposed to yell (well, men can, but that's another post), nor are we supposed to cry (especially if we're women), because crying means you're emotional which is sometimes code for hormonal or menopausal which is definitely bad or wait, maybe just human? Sometimes checking our emotions at the door, and locking up our grief just isn't possible because, as Lisa Lee reminds us, we're human.

So 10 years ago, I probably wouldn't have written this post. Maybe I would have suggested that we need to button up those emotions, park them at the door, and just get on with it. But in a world of climate change, systemic racism, pandemic fears, and gender discrimination, not to mention all the bad stuff that besets us individually, I don't think that's the workplace any of us want to work in any more. We need to know we can be our real selves--or at least as real as we choose to reveal--because it's only in environments where trust flourishes that we, whether leaders or staff, feel safe, seen and supported.

Be well and be kind.

Joan Baldwin