Trust

Shattered!

I remember years ago working for the Work Foundation, on the Commissioner’s Leadership Programme. I was listening to the gentleman speaking before me talk about trust. He said that trust once broken, was like a dropped plate, once shattered it was fragile and rarely the same again. This troubled me, I’d like to think that over time trust can be rebuilt, and that conversations within relationships can help us feel safe once more. 

Roll on a few years, another conference, another speaker, and I hear that trust cannot be demanded. "You can’t send a memo on Friday night asking for more trust on Monday morning.” Indeed, I’d have to say that the words ‘trust me’ tend to solicit an opposite reaction in me. It is up there in the red flag department with ‘I’ve worked with someone like you before’ and ‘we’re inclusive’. The most reflective among us will say ‘I trust you’ rather than ‘trust me’ when seeking to establish safety in an exchange.  Invariably it’s not a hiccup, but a big crash when trust breaks down, and things fall apart.

 

 

I have been accused by DM of hating men and non-disabled people. Both are untrue as far as I can trust myself, but I do indeed rant against the sexism and ableism I experience. These DMs typically arrive shortly after I have highlighted the fear, pain, and harm caused by ignorance, injustice and disadvantage. More specifically when I’ve called out poor practice. My tone is no doubt angry, as these are situations where I am calling on others to understand the cost of discrimination – the huge emotional labour of fighting for safe space. It’s very easy to say I should trust people to be kind, but without having been able to take it for granted doing so is very difficult. Several times this past year I’ve been treated unfairly. So it’s not that I don’t want to trust the next person, it’s that I did trust the last, and the few before that, and they dropped the plate… they refused to hear what I needed to say to be able to work without fear. Furthermore, in one case I asked for help, reasonable adjustments were agreed but later refused because I was too stupid to understand what inclusion meant. I was left shattered, shamed and humiliated. 

 

So baring scars I’ve asked to be heard, and it’s a game-changer! Starting a new job recently, my now colleague, asked what I needed before work went ahead. After a five minute conversation, we agreed that the difficulties I listed weren’t deal-breakers. I also felt happier, as the probable extra effort to come had been acknowledged. As it happened help wasn’t necessary, but I knew that if problems should occur I would be allowed to speak before they became catastrophic. More importantly, I felt trusted, therefore no longer fearful that I would be penalised for not having voiced my weaknesses.  I took this learning to my next job… 

 

Whether you agree with disability equality is not the key here, it’s whether you can work in ways that express it. Without that commitment, I can’t rely on practice that doesn't counter your organisation’s ableism. Therefore I will continue to find it hard to trust without dialogue. I will need a few minutes to hear in your voice or see in your face, that you understand the position I face. Because, without you acknowledging my fears, you will not able to address them.

 

The point of this bletther is to move away from woe-me. I understand that the current circumstances have put pressure on us all. But I’ve been left ashamed and shattered far more than once this year!  To trust again will require dialogue. I am no more vulnerable than anyone else, but fragile I am, from repeatedly being shut down when I needed my fears heard. Fears that have grown over the years, ignored or dismissed, so that now the tiniest of pressures can make me crack. The fissures may not be of your making, but as my new colleagues have shown trust can be rekindled. Thank you Lucy and Kevin for always asking!