Tell Me Why You Think That

I don't have to agree with you to want to understand you.

I had essentially the same conversation four different times this week.

Different people.

Different subjects.

Different circumstances.

But somehow, we kept landing in the same place.

And after the fourth time, I thought...

Okay. There's something here.

The conversations weren't really about who was right.

They were about being able to sit across from another person, hear what they think, and simply ask:

Why do you think that?

Not as a challenge.

Not because I'm waiting for my opportunity to tell them why they're wrong.

Because I genuinely want to know.

Understanding Isn't Agreement

I think we've gotten those two things confused.

Somewhere along the way, listening to another person's point of view started feeling like we were somehow endorsing it.

We're not.

I can understand why you believe something and still disagree with you.

I can ask questions about your experience without making it my experience.

I can listen to your reasoning and walk away thinking you're completely wrong.

But at least now I understand how you got there.

And sometimes?

I walk away thinking...

Huh. I hadn't considered that.

That's the part I don't want to lose.

Tell Me What You Know That I Don't

I'm especially interested in someone's perspective when they know something I don't.

Maybe they've lived through something I haven't.

Maybe they grew up completely differently than I did.

Maybe their job has exposed them to things I've never seen.

Maybe something happened to them twenty years ago that completely changed the way they see the world.

I want to know that.

Because everything is a factor.

People don't form opinions in a vacuum.

We are walking collections of everything that's ever happened to us.

Our families.

Our childhoods.

Our successes.

Our failures.

The people we've loved.

The people who've hurt us.

The things we've witnessed.

The things we've survived.

All of it shapes the way we see the exact same world.

So when somebody sees something completely differently than I do, my first thought isn't always:

How can you possibly think that?

Sometimes it's:

What do you know that I don't?

When Did Conversation Become Competition?

I've thought about this a lot lately.

When did we stop asking questions?

When did listening become waiting for our turn to talk?

And when did every disagreement require a winner?

Some of the best conversations I've ever had ended with neither person changing their mind.

Nobody won.

Nobody lost.

Nobody stormed off.

We just understood each other a little better than we did before.

That seems pretty damn valuable to me.

Because there's a big difference between saying:

"You're wrong."

and saying:

"I still don't agree with you, but now I understand why you feel that way."

The second one leaves room for another conversation.

Curiosity Gets Harder When It Matters

Of course, this is easy when we're talking about something that doesn't matter much.

It's much harder when the subject hits a nerve.

When someone's opinion challenges something we strongly believe.

When their experience doesn't match ours.

When we hear something that immediately makes us want to defend ourselves.

That's probably when curiosity matters most.

Not because every opinion deserves to change our minds.

And certainly not because we have to tolerate cruelty or disrespect in the name of being "open-minded."

But because if I'm going to disagree with someone, I'd at least like to understand what I'm disagreeing with.

Not the version I've created in my own head.

Theirs.

Tell Me Why You Think That

Maybe that's why those four conversations stuck with me this week.

They reminded me how much I still don't know.

And honestly?

I hope I never reach the point where I think I've got everybody figured out.

I want to keep asking questions.

I want to hear from people whose lives look nothing like mine.

I want someone to tell me something I didn't know yesterday.

And I want to be able to say:

"I don't agree with you."

and still follow it with:

"But tell me more."

Because understanding another person doesn't require becoming them.

Sometimes it simply requires being quiet long enough to hear how they became who they are.

Love, Bawsey