Pipe Organs, Politeness, and the Possibility of Change

My downstairs neighbor has been listening to a CD that must be called Sad, White Christians with Pipe Organs, on repeat, almost 24 hours a day, since the beginning of the pandemic lockdown in March.

Because the music is so mournful and started so suddenly, I concluded something awful must've happened. Poor Downstairs Neighbor, I thought. She must've lost a loved one to COVID or is heartbroken because of the recent incidents of racial injustice. I decided that she was probably blaring that music to distract herself from the pain! Stay strong, my sister, stay strong, I thought as I purchased disposable earplugs.

For a few weeks, I managed my growing frustration. (Imagine me pacing my apartment, snapping intensely, and stopping periodically to yell out bam or pow like a Jet from West Side Story after Riff was killed.)

Eventually, my empathy for Downstairs Neighbor eroded. I began to lump her in with all of those discourteous people who play music loudly in shared spaces, talk during movies, or assume you want to look at their baby. Why should I be forced to listen to your favorite song, hear your narrative reaction to a plot twist, or smile adoringly on your cue? I cannot stand those people who "play chicken" with you on the sidewalk rather than stepping aside slightly, or that academic administrator who is just a little too happy to champion absurd bureaucracy. This kind of rudeness is more than a pet peeve for me; it's a vexation.

I recently spent some time trying to unpack why these kinds of behaviors make me so frustrated. I have a theory: I work so hard to be polite that I am genuinely astounded when people don't return the favor. Seriously, I'm always thinking about how to make sure other people are comfortable.

What's that about?

Maybe it's rooted in my preacher's kid upbringing, or perhaps it's the peacemaking symptom of middle child syndrome. Perhaps it's related to my habit of overcompensating for the fact that my statuesque frame and jovial personality tend to take up a lot of space in a room or conversation. Or maybe it's related to the ubiquitous struggle to survive and thrive as a black person in America.

Whatever the impetus, my penchant for politeness is well-honed. I literally make my living creating supportive work environments. Everyone feels comfortable around me, and I mean everyone! (I'm so confident that this is true that I am writing it in this blog for the world to see. Anyone that has ever met me will read it and think Genia is pretty full of herself in this blog, and that's surprising because I always feel so comfortable around her!)

Now for the big reveal: I don't actually like that everyone feels comfortable around me. I want to be a changemaker, and changemakers ruffle feathers! Can you change the world and be polite? You don't have to think too long or look too deep into history to see the answer is clearly "no."

Changemaker Angela Davis once said, "I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change. I am changing the things I cannot accept." I love this quote for many reasons, but mostly because of its inherent optimism. It reminds me that change is possible and that I have a responsibility to name and manifest what I want to see in this world and myself. We all have the power to create change, and, like everything else, it starts within. And, like everything else, it happens in community with others.

I talked to Downstairs Neighbor about the music, and she eventually turned it down. I can still hear it, but at least I can sleep without earplugs. Baby steps.

Harambee!

Genia Wright, Free Time Aficionado

www.geniawright.com