Honoring uniqueness
I recently applied for a role at a company who requires you answer the question, “How do you honor the uniqueness of members of your team?” as a part of your application.
That a company cares enough for their people that anyone up for consideration needs to have this as a shared value—that it is a requirement to see others as whole people—is just not something I’ve encountered in the workplace or potential workplace. Ever.
Not so long ago I learned this word from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
Sonder
n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.
I care deeply to know the authenticity of all the people in my life—coworkers, friends, lovers, acquaintances at a bar, on the street. It is central to my value system to show my whole selves to others and it is also an extremely (rightfully) vulnerable way to exist in the world. It is especially difficult to do this in a work setting, where operating with transparency (about grief, about fears, about insecurity) can be received as weak or meek or lacking leadership.
I have literally had a previous manager say that I come off as meek (it was a man).
This company, aptly named Candidly, gets it. They named their company after the word we often use right before we are going to say something unfiltered and true—right before you are going to say something you feel insecure in letting out in its rawest form. I cannot imagine a better culture than one that has this notion baked into their DNA.
So, in the spirit of showing my uniqueness, here are some details of my personhood that neither my resume, cover letter, or interview will likely reveal, but are central to my identity:
I love doing crosswords. On paper and in pen. I am specific about the type of pen I use to complete them.
I journal almost every day and am also specific about the kind of pen I use to do that (different from crosswords)
I collect books and love going to new bookstores. I read mostly queer non-fiction.
I am queer and poly and partnered.
I recently came out as nonbinary and am still working on understanding what that means to me.
I quote movies from childhood thoughtlessly. I find it extremely charming when others do, too.
I collage when I have creative spurts. I love the way it has parameters built in, and love seeing how to reimagine images.
I go to therapy and work very hard on understanding and healing from my trauma.
I am left handed but play sports with my right hand.
I love live music—particularly the moment at every show at First Avenue when the giant screen that covers the stage starts to rise for the show to begin.
I should like Radiohead given my sensibilities but I just don’t.
I used to cry any time anyone cried, and sometimes I cry when I think about someone feeling lonely or embarrassed.
I love forensics.
I don’t love to do puzzles because it hurts my back to hunch over a table.
I love biking around with my friends who were my friends when I first started to feel like myself. We were in our 20s and 30s when we met—now we are in our 30s and 40s.
I have a 17 year old cat and together we make up the Green Eye Club (we’re the only members in my household).
I am a poet but haven’t written a poem in months.
