Sandi L Boucher reflects on how people respond to vulnerability online. She contrasts empathetic replies with judgmental ones, arguing that what hurting people need is presence and acknowledgment, not your story or advice.
Chapters
So you ever heard the phrase actions speak louder than words? Well, when the action is sharing words, you can learn a lot. Let's talk about that. Hello, everybody. My name is Sandy Boucher. I'm Red Thunderbolt, woman of the Loon clan, a proud member of Seine River first nation in Treaty 3 territory, Northern Ontario. And today, today, once again, I'm commenting on my social media interaction. So recently I had shared that obviously I have removed my artificial nails that I wore for more than two decades. And anyone who's ever done that, like, you don't need to tell me that was not a smart thing to do. I know. Trust me, I know. That's kind of my point. Because I, vulnerable, vulnerably, authentically shared that AI had done that, worn them for two years. Two years, two decades, and two, had chosen to finally take them off because the damage they had inflicted on my natural nails was just too much. Just too much. It was finally too much. And even acknowledging, why do we have to do that? Why do we always have to go to so bad before we change things? But anyways, in the comments that came back now, some people came back and said, like, wow, that sucks. I hear you. I hope your nails heal. I read that. And I imagine those people sitting next to me in the muck. As Brene Brown would say, there was no judgment. They were just right there. Wow, this sucks. And that's compassion. That's empathy. That's what we all got to get way better at. Then I had some people saying, well, you shouldn't have done that. As I said in the blog post, those people aren't getting an invite to any party I have, whether it's a fun one or a bitty party, like, that's no, thank you for the judgment. Please be quiet in the future. And then there were people that went into their stories. That doesn't help. I'm like, I know. I just figured this out in the last few years. I was one of you responding with my story. And I think I thought that that shared with you that we had something in common. But one, it doesn't do that. It makes the person you're talking to or responding to feel like you didn't even hear them. It's all about you. And two, even if you're trying to establish there's a commonality, especially when you're talking to someone who's very different than you, there's a really good chance they're thinking, you have no idea what I'm talking about. When I share, like an indigenous specific situation, an indigenous pain, and other people can relate to it. It's like, if they're marginalized or racialized, ok, that's a different story. Good chance they might, but otherwise it's like, don't do that. I have become a master of responding with. I have no idea what that would feel like, but I'm here with you. I'm hearing you. This is not about me. You don't need to hear what also happened to me. I want to sit next to you. Building the bridge of reconciliation is us getting a lot better at sitting next to each other. Not jumping in to tell our stories, not judging, but just sitting there and saying, wow, that sucks. Do you need anything for me or you just. Can I just sit here with you? As we go into this weekend, let's practice that, all right? You can tell your story another time. But when someone's in pain, they don't need to hear your story. They really good chance they don't need to hear anything. And just. You need you to remind them they're not alone. You're right there next to them in the muck. I hope that makes sense. Comment. As always, I'd love to hear from you. Until next week. You take care of yourself. I love you. Take care. Bye. Bye.
