Know Your Role and Then Let it Go

The joy of trying it all on for size

all of us in our little roles (i am bozo)

Last weekend I participated in an unconference and the whole experience had the quality of a spa. The stakes were so low; I didn’t know much about the plan for the day, only knew the friend I was meeting there, and had little expectation of the whole thing beyond hoping to meet a few cool people and expose myself to new ways of thinking. 

Because I am often a host, being a participant truly feels like I’m getting pampered. I don’t need to take notes or keep an eye on the time. I meander in and out of attentiveness but mostly get to bop around in my own thoughts, especially in spaces like this one where the main purpose was just to…push on each other’s ideas. I make space for others and build on what is being shared but also trust in the facilitator to hold the flow and dynamics of the group. “I almost feel guilty for not facilitating,” someone else in attendance who also hosts a lot admitted to me. “I don’t know what to do with myself. It just feels…so nice.” 

If one of the beauties of community is that everybody has a role to play, it’s a huge deal when you finally figure out your thing. You water the plants in the community garden! Yes, you bring the cookies! You’re the one that always has a party game up your sleeve, or you’re the listener or route planner or timekeeper or the one with the couches everyone loves to flop down on so you usually end up hosting. 

We gravitate towards maps that outline our roles in a social movement ecosystem and roles for collective liberation and chore wheels and volunteer handbooks telling us exactly where to plug in. Give me a role and I’m good. 

But as we tighten our grip on any one role – yes, this is my thing, I’m the notetaker and everyone will know me by the freakish accuracy of my play-by-play of this group meeting – the real point of it all eludes us. 

Maybe having a role served us in the beginning, made it feel like we had a clear gift to offer, something to be known for, something to do with our hands. 

At its most stringent, though, these once-helpful perimeters become a box we can’t escape. Maybe we are so known as The Planner – in our community spaces, organizing groups, friendships, families – that nobody else even attempts to hold logistics. It is expected and no longer asked for. 

When it’s really gnarly for me, sometimes I can no longer distinguish between if I like playing my role and am good at it or if I just don’t have an out and have no other option but to keep doing it. In these moments I know I have lost the plot and accidentally created a job-like structure for a thing I am likely not paid for and is supposed to operate outside of the dimension of what jobs feel like. 

“It’s anti-community to not allow others to help you.” It also means we lose out on a golden opportunity to try out many versions of ourselves. To be fed and just wash dishes when we usually cook. To work through a conflict with someone else, guided by a mediator, when we usually make that space for others. To simply show up on time to take notes when we usually hold the entire agenda.

This quote from Juliana Luecking when convincing Kathleen Hanna to move to New York City and be inspired instead of doing the inspiring for once: “Why do you have to build the barn and put on the show? Let someone else put on a show for you!”

There’s a lot to play with here: maybe we look to explore a role that’s the opposite of something we do for paid work, or something always expected of us in our families or friend circles, or something we’re known for in one space but get to redefine in another. I fantasize about never doing more in my parks volunteering group beyond weeding. I have no aspirations to join their board or be on the hook beyond the Tuesday meet-up. 

(A caveat because I am deeply haunted by “but what about?!?!”s: of course there is also vital importance to consistently showing up in your role and being counted on for this. It also allows us the opportunity to develop more depth and context with every time we practice. It would really suck if someone you were counting on to facilitate simply chose to bail without warning or offboarding! And sometimes there truly ISN’T anybody else who can jump in. But I also know all of our roles are more flexible than they might appear, and have personally stayed in roles for longer than anyone was expecting or asking me to.)

What role do you usually play in your friendships, your organizing groups, your volunteer thing? Why do you think you gravitated there? What other roles are available to you, and what’s keeping you from trying something different?

As we allow ourselves to try on something else for size, other magic might happen: 

We learn from someone else’s style of doing it

We hate someone else’s style of doing it and it clarifies our own approach

We see something from this new vantage point we couldn’t see before

We contribute something special we couldn’t in our other role

We surprise ourselves

We rest

We subtly strengthen our community and make it more resilient by ensuring it isn’t over relying on any one person for doing one thing well 

Maybe we try it out for just a night, just one workshop or one hangout. Or maybe we revisit it every season to make sure we haven’t begun clinging again too tightly. May we all feel the joy of being someone different again and again and again.

✨ Consider donating to my incredible colleague Zahin who has been diagnosed with liver cancer and is looking for a living donor. Would appreciate any sharing to other networks that can happen; here is a video on LinkedIn and post on Instagram he made for sharing 💜💜💜💜