sharon steed

Silence kills collaboration

Empathy is a huge buzzword these days. Everyone's talking about it (including me), writing about it and encouraging it of their employees. Although I think it's great that people are seeing the value of taking the time and energy to truly understand others, I think there needs to be a better way to explain how to be empathetic in the moment and why it's so important.

Let's start with the "why" here. Why is empathy so important? Because it fosters a more collaborative environment.

Empathy is what forces you to stop what you're doing and listen to the person talking to you. It commands you to be thoughtful when responding to others. And it restricts cockiness; there's no room for dismissive behavior when you are truly in sync with another person's feelings.

All these things are important because when you're tuned into the people you're conversing with, you know how to talk to them. And maybe more importantly, you know exactly how to listen to them.

I discuss empathy from the eyes of a stutterer because that’s how I learned to be empathetic. Through my own struggles with constantly exposing my biggest insecurity, I could better understand how others’ felt in moments of great vulnerability. And interestingly enough, as I showed more and more people my greatest vulnerability, it became infinitely easier to meaningfully join conversations and share my ideas. Collaboration soon followed.

Silence kills collaboration.

And silence can come about in many ways. A person can choose to silence themselves out of apprehension or insecurity. We can silence people by ignoring them or being verbally dismissive.

But the worst way that we silence people is by not fully listening to them. We pacify them by hearing what they have to say, and then go off and do whatever it is we were going to do anyway. We give no explanation as to why we chose that route, and the other person is left feeling ignored and dismissed.

Who is going to want to chime in after that?

Empower others to speak, and the way you have conversations will change. Be patient enough to truly listen, and your thoughtfulness will be greeted with a productive discussion. Practice empathetic communication, and collaboration will flourish.

If you work with people in any capacity - in person, over the phone or online - you are a collaborator. Encourage positive collaborative behaviors by speaking up, and applaud others that do the same.

What I learned speaking at 12 conferences in 6 months

 

Almost two years ago, I made the decision to face my fear of talking to people by pursuing public speaking opportunities. I spoke to a group of grad students about what it's like to be a stutterer. Then a few months later, I gave an Ignite talk on patience. That was when I met Jim, the founder of Adorable and the organizer of Madison Plus Ruby. He invited me to speak at his conference in August of 2014, and I accepted. After the positive feedback I received from these three events, I decided to pursue speaking for real. 

So after nine months of applying to what felt like a million conferences, I spent from April to October of this year speaking all over the globe. Here is what I learned.

You don’t need to be a dev to contribute.

I’ll never forget the RailsConf in Atlanta this year. It was my first BIG conference (second conference ever) and my first workshop. It was called “How to talk to humans” and it was meant to help developers better connect with coworkers and clients through empathetic communication. I can look back now and say with 100 percent certainty that I was woefully unprepared. But I did it, and I gave that talk to a room full of developers. People approached me after to say how helpful it was. Others told me that they finally talked about their mental illness and felt confident enough to share it with their coworkers. And a few said that it didn’t do much for them.

Guess what? That’s normal – dev or not. It’s a rare occurrence when every single person in the room is enrapt in your talk. People will find more interesting things on Twitter and Mashable. They’ll send emails. A few will even get up and leave. Don’t take it personally; shit happens. But the vast majority of them will stay. They will tweet quotes they liked. They’ll take pictures of your slides. They’ll periscope parts of your talk.

I say all this to say that this happens to everyone. Developers, user researchers, marketers, technical evangelists all have the same speaking experience. Most organizers want different types of talks to flesh out their roster. And remember that these conferences are all day (and, in most cases, all night) events. Devs are surrounded by other devs listening to talks by devs. That can get old quickly. Being one of the few – if not the only – “soft skills” means you are giving them a different perspective. Embrace it because if you’re not a dev, you have a place at these events too.

Content is king…

It took me going to five conferences, giving four talks and conducting two workshops to figure out what my topic really was. I spoke about my experiences as a stutterer and how it informed me as a marketer. I eventually realized that I wasn’t giving enough actionable steps in my talk so I changed it to be more instruction oriented. I’m still not all the way to where I want to be with it, but I know I’ll figure it out if I just keep doing it and making appropriate changes.

But there is a really big drawback to having a speech impediment like stuttering: there’s always the chance of people not understanding me or, if they do understand me, they won’t “get” it. I talk about improved communication through empathy. Why would a person who stutters be giving a talk on improving communication skills? Who invited her? And she’s not a developer? What’s she doing here?

I spent the entire six months worried about this. Before every single talk, I literally wanted to run out of the building and get on the next plane home. But I stuck it out, stuttered my way through a 25 minute talk and held my breath for the inevitable reactions I’d receive. In the end, stuttering was a factor – but it helped them understand and embrace my content even more.

I’m very lucky in that I’d been writing professionally for a decade before I gave my first talk so I knew how to put together a compelling story. And because of that, every time I was about to lose people during my talks, I could pull them back in. Why? Because the content of my presentation was on point. Nothing – and I truly mean nothing – is more important than content.

…but for the love of God make it fun.

I co-MC’ed Madison Plus Ruby back in August and it was the very rare, very beautiful example of a conference full of great talks by engaging people. Most tech conferences have a few GREAT talks, a lot of good/okay talks, and a few duds. You know what the duds have in common? The presenter isn’t connecting enough with the audience. They aren’t engaged. They flatly delivered their content and didn’t pay attention to what was going on right in front of them. We’ve all had to sit through some sort of presentation like this. Where the presenter could possibly be sleep-walking or near death.

Look, I know that I just said that nothing is more important than content. But let’s put content at 1a. And that means that 1b is delivery. Talk to your audience like you’re talking to your best friend or some random you meet at a bar who you find charming and interesting. I know a speaker who takes a shot of whiskey before all of her talks so she can loosen up. And you know what? That shot of whiskey makes her already hilarious personality shine magnificently on stage.

My best advice here is to first memorize your talk. I memorize my talks as I’m creating them; instead of writing down the talk on paper, I speak my talk into existence. After repeating it ten or so times, I write it down from memory. Next, I practice it with different types of inflection. I make sure to insert jokes to give the audience an idea of my personality – and to help me relax a bit. And I keep practicing it, with inflection and jokes, until I feel comfortable enough to give it conversationally. I could be drunk at a dive bar at 3am and could give the talk exactly how I want to give it on talk day.

Everyone has something to give.

Before RailsConf in April, I spoke at one tech conference and one tech event. I worked with a few startups but none of them were highly technical. And I spent most of my career dealing with small-to-medium sized businesses who had very little to do with tech. On top of all of that I’m black, I’m a female and I stutter. And it comes out a lot when I speak in front of a room full of people.

On paper, I look like the least qualified person to be giving a talk at a tech conference. Yet I gave talks at twelve of them – and two of those were two of the biggest, most well-known international conferences (DockerCon and RailsConf). Everyone has something to give. Our human experiences are so varied and our lives are constantly changing. You aren’t the Stanford educated co-founding ruby ninja at a sexy startup that just got seven figures in funding? Neither are 95 percent of the other people speaking at these events.

So who are these people? They are copywriters and software developers at Digital Ocean. They write ruby for Blue Bottle. They build software prototypes at IBM Design. They’re the engineer lead at Ride. They do user research at Spotify. They’re freelance developers and authors. They black. White. Middle eastern. English. French. Colombian. American.

The biggest thing that they all have in common is that they are willing to get on stage in front of hundreds of people and share their ideas. Does that make them special? Maybe. I guess so. But if that’s the case, then can’t we all do this? Can’t we all face a fear – big or small – while also sharing something uniquely us with people who have similar interests?

In the end

The biggest lesson I learned is that we're not that different from each other. We love consuming interesting, valuable content. We love creating compelling, helpful content. And that's the bottom line. Throw your hat in the ring. Submit a CFP. You have something to share. 

 

What do we really have to be afraid of?

What is it about being an adult that makes us so afraid of things? True, we are no longer young and naive. We've got life experiences behind us. We know that touching a fire will burn us and that sometimes people aren't upstanding and honest. But if we've made it to adulthood, then what do we really have to be afraid of and worried about?

Before the "dying a slow, painful death" or "losing someone close to us" people start their march straight to my nerves, let me say that there are obviously things to be afraid of. I have a fear enormous snakes, alligators, bees and basically anything that could cause me great (or small) (no really, I'm fucking terrified of bees and it's a real problem guys) bodily harm. The fears I'm talking about right now, though, are the ones that won't kill us. 

An example, I have a pretty severe fear of being the center of attention. There's something about a room full of people staring at me that just freaks me out. I feel very exposed - or at least feel like there is a strong possibility I could be exposed - and raw. Like all my flaws and vulnerabilities are on display for everyone to see. 

For a long time, I let fear make decisions for me. But once I came to a place where I knew I had to change, I started chasing the fears and pursuing them. That's how I found my way into public speaking. You see, I became a writer because I didn't want to talk to people. As a child, I read books to escape from the bullies, the stuttering and the insecurities I carried on my sleeve. I loved getting lost in the characters and their stories. The books I read generally had strong female leads that were both flawed and fearless, and I so desperately wanted to be like them. But I felt trapped in a life where that just wasn't possible, so I resigned myself to reading about women I wanted to be like but knew I never could. 

I came to this conclusion at a pretty young age - maybe 11 or 12. Yeah, I was a bit of a weird child. 

As a result of this, I only really knew being afraid and avoiding things because of that fear. And I feel like a lot of adults fall into this trap. We go to college. Get a master's degree. Work our jobs. Never take risks - big or small - because of whatever negative thing that we think may happen. And we end up living a life based on fear.  

How did this happen? When did we stop challenging ourselves and instead take it easy? 

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not much of a risk taker. Like I mentioned before, I chose my career because I thought it wouldn't put my stuttering on display and I'd avoid a lot of embarrassment. Not only did I figure out that those things just weren't true, but also that choosing paths based on fear is a fast way to be miserable. Don't get me wrong; I love writing. Some of the opportunities I've had, especially this past year, have been a result of my professional skill set. But what if, instead of doing certain things because of fear, I had chosen to strategically pursue things in spite of it?

Maybe I'd be farther along in my career or I'd make more money. Maybe I would have taken a different direction or worked with a totally different kind of client. Or maybe I'd be doing exactly what I'm doing right now. I could dwell on this and pick apart the path I took. If I would have done this differently or If I would have spoken up in that situation and I should have gone to that networking event.

Does that help anything? You know that answer to that. Going back in my past and pin-pointing my mistakes won't make my present or future any better. But adjusting what I'm doing right now will.

And that brings me back to the topic of this post - what the fuck are we so afraid of?

Aside from being tortured to death or - even worse - stung by a bee (really, it's that serious), looking at our fears with neutral set of eyes could do us all some good. Will it stop the thing from being so scary? Probably not. But maybe stepping away from the negative emotion attached to the fear will help you see in a different light. More specifically, detaching your emotions from your fears could lead you to a huge opportunity for growth. 

I can't imagine that every single current NFL player walked into their freshman-year tryout feeling like a million bucks. I also find it hard to believe that Al Gore's first time stepping on stage to discuss An Inconvenient Truth didn't induce some nervousness. Former vice president or not, he was basically about to take the world as we knew it and flip it upside down. I wasn't there (still waiting on my invite, Al), but it's safe to say that he probably had a few butterflies. 

Now I'm not telling you to go jump out of a plane to get over your fear of heights. I'm not even saying to give the toast at your sister's six-person birthday dinner. What I'm suggesting is that you stop viewing your fears from a negative perspective. They don't have any power of you; in fact, you empower them. The more you tell yourself you're afraid of it, the more you will be and fewer opportunities will be available to you because of it.

So the next time you feel yourself falling into the "there's no way in hell that shit is about to happen" trap - and I have been there, trust - just stop. You can do anything, especially things that scare you. 

So, what are you afraid of? And how can you turn it into an advantage?

 

 

The psychology behind speech

Spend five seconds on this website and you know that I stutter. I spent years (ahem...decades) attempting to hide it by changing words, not talking at all and avoiding situations where I would stutter. It may not sound like it, but this was exhausting. I still have moments now when I'm struggling to say something and find myself out of breath from the energy I expend attempting to say a simple sentence. Though I'm no psychologist, from my own personal experience I can confidently say that I know something about the emotional side of communication. 

The most recent research I've seen conducted on the emotions behind stuttering is two years old, so I'll stick to my own experiences. Thinking back to grade school, I cannot count how many times I sat in my chair trembling because my turn to read aloud in class was approaching. I got used to counting the number of students ahead of me and then counting the corresponding paragraphs to figure out which one was going to be mine. Then I'd go through the paragraph to see which words I would stutter on. As it got closer to my turn, my anxiety would increase. When I would finally stand up to read my paragraph, I would be so terrified that every single word would be struggle.  

I can't even count the number of times I wanted to cry, hide, scream, run away or just disappear because of stuttering. And it's the exact opposite of what your speech is supposed to do for you. Talking about ideas, your passions, feelings or the things that matter the most to you is supposed to be empowering. Sharing your views with others and engaging in dialog is one of the joys of life. But when you have trouble communicating your ideas - for whatever the reason - that joy is reduced to nightmare status.  

So what's the psychology behind my speech? I won't lie - there are moments I feel a little less worthy because my voice isn't like the average person's. It's almost as if my thoughts and ideas aren't as good as others because of the way they sound coming out of my mouth. It doesn't help that the anticipation of actually talking to another person is sometimes greater than the actual moment of speaking. Overcome with anxiety and fear, stuttering is - at best - a way that I stand out and - at worst - the most humiliating moment of my day.  

Though my situation is a bit unique (only one percent of the population stutters), I realize that people with speech impediments aren't the only ones struggling with their communication skills. A speech therapist friend of mine named Katie counsels not just stutterers, but also those with social anxiety or people that want to not be so terrified to speak up in work meetings. At a stuttering meet up once, one of the non-stutterers admitted to having minor anxiety when speaking on the phone.  

When you think about it, it's actually quite fascinating. We all have our own neurosis when it comes to talking. Whether that be oral reports for class, job interviews or giving a big presentation for a potential client, we all know what it feels like to worry about our words. Our words, in a sense, are who we are. What we speak, how we say it and the timing of our words are big factors in how people size us up and form their opinions. So when we get so caught up in the logistics of what we say - whether that be because of a speech impediment, social anxiety or general fear of saying the wrong thing - aren't we actually depriving people of the interesting, unique and experienced person that we are?

Instead of getting caught up in your head with what to say, how to say it, when to say what and being so worried about how to say what and where, we should work on letting go of the fear of saying the wrong thing and embracing our natural voice at its purest. Because - and I'm being honest here - the majority of people will make up their minds about us based on our looks and our words. Let's stop hiding and start talking. I'll start. 

Hi. My name is Sharon, and I stutter. 

What's your name? 

On fear, wanting to quit and doing it anyway

I always make New Years' resolutions. They're usually along the lines of "lose weight" or "eat healthier" and "make more money" or "travel to a different country" and "read a book a month." Yeah, they're pretty standard. Most people can relate to these sort of self-improvement goals, and even more of us can relate to not achieving them. I used to think this was because I was lazy (or some other negative thing) (which could be true - who knows), but I'm not so sure anymore. Why? Because this year, I actually did improve myself but in a way that was so shocking and unexpected that I barely realized it was happening. 

If you found my site, you probably know that I 1) stutter and 2) am a public speaker. Let me explain that a bit more: I'm a stutterer that willingly and happily gets in front of a crowd of people to talk about shit while displaying the thing that gives me the most anxiety (my disjointed speech). If you're wondering - yes, I do see the humor in it. I have a speech impediment, and I speak. In public. For, like, other people to hear. Whoa. 

A year ago, if you would have told me that in twelve short months I would be actively pursuing speaking gigs around the world I'm pretty sure I would have looked at you like you just said "I do crack recreationally and my job randomly drug tests."

Are you fucking kidding me? That's asinine and you're crazy. 

Yet, here I am. Talking about not just stuttering, but also marketing, entrepreneurship, communications and - my personal favorites - fear and vulnerability. I was lucky enough to grab a spot at Ignite Chicago's April event this year where I spoke on patience. After the event was over, a guy walked up to me, introduced himself (his name is Jim and he's fantastic), and invited me to speak at his conference

Before I go on with this story, let me pause here for a second and talk about fear. My speech - and my resulting anxiety about it - turned me into someone that was afraid to talk. To anyone. In any situation. Ever. I was terrified to go on job interviews. I was terrified to talk to guys I was dating about anything that might trip me up. I was terrified to order food at restaurants. I was terrified to talk to my friends about anything that might cause me to stutter. I just had a general fear of speaking in most situations which dictated, well, everything. 

I chose not to speak instead of speaking and stuttering. I'll definitely get more into the psychology behind stuttering in future posts, but the short version is this: many stutterers struggle their whole lives with not wanting to speak for fear of their words not coming out, so they choose instead to be silent.  

I was - and, occasionally, still am - one of those people. Just a few hours ago, I ordered a coffee and contemplated not saying my first name - using my middle name instead - because it would be easier to get out. I did end up saying my first name, and it took forever to get out. Embarrassing? Yes. But it just goes to show that it's a constant anxiety, even fear, hanging over your head knowing that your biggest vulnerability is always on display. 

This year, though, something changed. I knew that I wanted to improve my life and not in the superficial ways that I usual aim to do so (lose 20 pounds, read more, etc.). And I knew that to do that, I had to make a major change. You should know something about me: I'm either all in or I'm not at all in. So when I really set my mind to something, I pretty much pursue every possibility relentlessly until I have achieved whatever goal it is I set out for. That has materialized itself as my committing to something upfront and being scared about it later. 

So when Jim asked me to speak at his conference, I immediately said yes. I didn't ask any questions about where it was, how long the talk had to be, what was the audience - I literally threw caution to the wind, said yes on the spot, and two hours later was full-on fetal in the corner of my bathroom shaking from the holy-shit-what-I-have-done fear that had pretty much taken over every ounce of my being. 

Seeing that there is a video of myself speaking at said conference, you know how this story ends. I womaned up, wrote a speech about the only thing I knew - using vulnerability to your advantage - and presented it to the most amazing group of human beings ever congregated at a conference. It was one of the highlights of my year and I could not have been happier to be there.  

So what happened between that "I'm going to pee my pants" bathroom moment and speaking at Madison+ Ruby? Nothing spectacular, but I had a bit of an a-ha moment along the way. 

I'll let you in a little secret I learned this past year: if you're afraid of something, you should probably do it.Tweet: Fear can be a great indication of what direction you should take. What scares the shit out of you? Go do that. via @sharonsteed

Side not: I know some of you smart asses out there are all "Well I'm afraid to jump off a building so you're saying I should do that?" No, you idiot, and you know what I mean. God. 

I had always enjoyed speaking - when I wasn't stuttering, that is - but the idea of speaking at conferences in front of professional people terrified me so much that it just wasn't an option. After speaking at Madison Plus Ruby, I realized something. This thing that has made me different in what I considered to be a bad way is actually something that I can use to my advantage. Stutter, oddly enough, helps me get my point accross and it motivates people. Stuttering levels the playing field for sure, but it - in combination with my message - shows people what they are capable of if they just allow themselves to embrace what they fear the most. 

So what are you afraid of, and how has that shaped your actions, your thoughts and your goals? We all have gifts, and as comfortable as it is to pursue the ones that we're the most proud of or are the easiest or most convienent, it might be worth your time to tap into the gifts you've hid beneath your fears. You truly have no idea the number of doors that can open and the opportunities that will arise if you just tap into the scary space.