WHY Do I Have To Change My Mind? (Hint: because I was wrong)

Anyone who knows me knows that I have Opinions™. Can I be judgmental? Some would say, “yes.” Others, by way of contrast, would say, “hell yes have you met her?” But who is to say, really, whether a statement such as “Wow, I can’t even believe they did that. What were they thinking!” is “judgmental” or simply “the only reasonable take on the situation”?

One of the ways my opinions show up is in terms of the rules of professional engagement. And by that I mean, I take it for granted that deadlines matter. That showing up to a meeting on time matters. That it’s important to respond to emails in a timely manner. And that these and all the other rules must apply to everyone, evenly, without exception — that the rules hold universally, and anything less is…sloppy. Unprofessional.

To be clear, I do understand the relationship between these rules and white supremacy culture…in theory. But that hasn’t stopped me from continuing to insist, quietly to myself when no one is listening, that they still count. And when I’m digging my heels in, it’s really easy for my brain to convince me that I’m still on the moral high ground. “Deadlines matter.” I’m just stating the obvious.

Am I, though?

I am blessed to be married to someone who, as Mala proclaims about herself, is time-full, more than timely. In her words, she defaults to taking the time something needs, versus trying to smash something into a box purely to meet an artificial deadline; to be fully present with whatever she’s engaged in (a conversation, a spreadsheet, an article) rather than be constrained by time limits.

I mentioned that I have Opinions™, right? So imagine my struggle over the years trying to run a business, as someone who believes in deadlines, with someone who is time-full. We’ve had some run-ins, not gonna lie. And yet, I acknowledge she has a point. I also (begrudgingly) acknowledge that her way of doing things sometimes leads to better outcomes than my way of doing things (shh, don’t tell her). A more robust conversation. A more functional spreadsheet. A more thorough and well-researched article.

Clearly, there is a disconnect between my stated belief in dismantling white supremacy culture in the workplace and my internalized insistence that deadlines are supreme. Clearly, I haven’t actually changed my mind about the primacy of deadlines, talk a good talk though I might.

And so that got me thinking: what does it take to actually change my mind? How do I extricate my brain from the notion of “universal truth”? Is it even possible?

Take the example of “deadlines matter.” I mean, sure, yes, I can still believe that they do. And I’m as frustrated as the next person when I’m promised something on a particular date and not only does it not arrive, but a note explaining why it hasn’t arrived also does not arrive.

But likewise, white supremacy culture, right? Unless someone will actually die because of a deadline failing to have been met, all other deadlines are artificial constructs that — while they might matter, still need to be put in perspective.

As I try to convince myself of that fact, what I’m realizing is that I can’t just stop at stating the fact. I can’t just tell my brain that, and then pretend that there’s not still a little part of me that keeps insisting that the thing should have arrived when it was due.

Just suppressing the old message is not enough. There has to be a way to either expunge or redirect the message.

As I say that, I’m thinking, is it even possible for us to expunge what we’ve already learned? I know that when it comes to habits, for example, you can’t erase an old habit; you can only build a new, stronger habit over the old one. Is that true about beliefs we hold to be true?

Apparently, we can genuinely unlearn things. For one thing, our brains have enormous neuroplasticity: the ability to change, reorganize, or grow neural networks — over the course of our entires lives. Just because we learned something doesn’t mean we can’t unlearn it.

How does it work? Through the learn-unlearn-relearn cycle.

The “learn” part, well, we already know.

The “unlearn” part is “the act of purging established hard earned knowledge to make room for fresh knowledge…the art of ‘unknowing.’” Unknowing! Whoa. It’s the part that’s way more than just telling myself once or twice that deadlines are artificial. It requires “challenging and deconstructing things that are embedded in your way of thinking, acting and reacting.” In unlearning, you have dig up and root out the old learning in order to make room for new learning. The catch is that there’s so much keeping us tied to our old learning — in my case, for example, an entire political/economic structure constantly reinforcing my belief that people who don’t meet deadlines are flawed. It’s hard work, and it takes time.

And then, there’s relearning. Relearning requires a lot of accidents. Relearning requires us to push hard against the resistance deriving from everything we’ve taken for granted for a very long time, over and over again. Relearning requires me to take seriously that the Malas of the world are not the ones doing it wrong, and the rest of us just need to have patience, but that the world is doing it wrong, and I’m the one needing to request patience.

My mistake, I am coming to realize, is that I thought it would be one-and-done; it would be enough to just declare to myself that, sure, deadlines matter, but also, we can be flexible and still be professional. Turns out, it takes more than that. What it takes is my commitment to the discomfort necessary to actually uproot what I thought was true and re-root what I now know to be true. That’s my Opinion,™ and I’m sticking to it. At least until I unlearn and relearn otherwise.