Thanks For Letting Me Know

When you are pulled aside by a parent, teacher, boss, friend—it’s typically for one of three reasons:

1. You’re in trouble.

2. You’re in luck.

3. You’re in the wrong.

The first is the sort of aside we all experienced and hopefully grew from, especially when we were younger. Bully someone in the halls, and you’re in trouble. Disrespect your parents, and you’re in trouble.

The second is the sort of aside that goes public. The raffle is rattled, a blue ticket is plucked, and a long sequence of impossible numbers is read aloud—you’re in luck!—you’ve won the lottery. Or, your boss is pulling you aside to inform you that, due to a spectacular display of zealous attention to duties and customers, you’re getting a 25 cent raise atop your current minimum wage. Naturally, you should be ecstatic at the news.

The last, however, is the sort of aside that comes with a host of biological reactions. Our stomachs sink, we feel sweat start to stick to our pits, and somewhere in the back of our minds we are rifling through our mental files—was it when we misspoke? Interrupted? Decided for the whole group, unasked? Anxious to know, we rack our minds for possible wrongdoings.

And yet, the beauty of this third uncomfortable conversation is just in this unknowing. As one-sighted creatures, we are blind to our own shortcomings. It’s inevitable. We are not all-knowing. We can’t be.

I like to think I am. I’m a diligent student, read (almost) all books, essays, and articles assigned my way, and I’m big on asking questions. I’m quick to apologize and even faster to evaluate. The problem with self-evaluation, of course, is that it comes from the self.

We need another person to call us out.

If you know me closely, you know that I hate wearing jackets. They’re bulky, the fleece lining of a cute sherpa or the goose down of a quality puffer making the jacket warm, yes, but also insanely thick. When I’m in cold places, it means (if I’m at all exercising an ounce of wisdom) pulling on an undershirt, then a long sleeve, a sweater, perhaps a vest if I’m feeling spicy, then a jacket atop it all. Every time I go through that ordeal, I feel as though I’m gaining layers of bulk that obstruct my movement. Have you ever tried to bend your elbow and touch your shoulder with your fingertips while wearing all that? Practically impossible.

So anyway, here I am, striving impossibly against the cold by maintaining a strict getup of thick sweats and a tank top with a light jacket or hoodie. My friends call this “classic Corina;” I’m a fashion setter for one. I’m from the Bay, so perhaps this mindset works. But with climate change and a tendency to forget to check the weather forecast, more often than not I feel a little sick during the winter.

My dad called me out on this recently. He told me that getting sick harms not only harms my body, but also carries great potential risk to those around me. If I exercised a bit more awareness, I would realize that dressing warm—even bulky—is a simple way of caring for others.

This is a minor study in the practical benefits of being called out, but larger benefits are at stake too. I look back and some of the biggest mo- ments of shame, guilt, and ultimate growth came when I was wrong, didn’t know it, and needed to hear it.

Corina is a double major in English and Linguistics about to begin her master’s in Education. She loves telling stories and helping others tell their own.

Being in the wrong sucks. I think it carries with it all the fastenings of horror—relational tension, conflicting interests, blame shifting, or the dissolution of a valued connection.

Taking an aside when we find out we’re in the wrong takes practice. Even the friends I’ve met who “love” conflict and “thrive” off of criticism also meet such moments of abrasion with defensiveness. Defensiveness is such a human reaction. Of course we’re defensive. In a world where we got landed with two soft arms, sticks for legs, and zero biological armor, we fall back on our tongues. If defensiveness is only human, communication is what separates us as human.

With our only defense being our mind and tongue, I’ve noticed how easy it is to want to remain comfortable. This is overtly present in college. And yet--intellectual security and comfort are dangerous. If we are only ever told, surrounded by, and filled with affirmations, we are stuck in an echo chamber. Such echoing plagues man’s intellectual or relational spaces today. For a long time, I wanted my boyfriend and I to fight. Out of the darkness of relational battlefields was forged strength, obviously. The dramatic romantic in me envisioned a screaming match of wills that would eventually culminate in peace. Since then I’ve learned I can’t yell, and I deal with conflict much more avoidantly. (I’ve also learned to recognize that relational harmony is a valued gift not to pick at, and yes, we’ve had our share of fights.)

My best friend used to laugh at me for wanting conflict, but in our friendship too, I’ve seen how conflicting ideas and desires have all the potential in the world to breed conflict, but also the potential to make us more gracious people. She’s called me out in grace and love many times, each resulting in growth in discernment, wisdom, and self-awareness.

Now, of course, my palms still start to sweat and my stomach still flips, but each time someone pulls me aside, I make sure to tell them thanks. Thanks for calling me out. The best asides where I’m in the wrong would feature sweeping displays of grace and forgiveness, but even for the ones that didn’t—I’m grateful. Thanks for letting me know.