How Ms. Janie taught me to listen

I knew I was back home in South Carolina when 81-year-old Ms. Janie, who lived alone and barely knew me, invited me over to partake in what she referred to as a “light” meal: a whole roasted chicken, a large tray of macaroni and cheese and a heaping pile of collard greens. Her Texas-raised granddaughter is my good friend and former Duke classmate — for Ms. Janie, reason enough to overwhelm me with delicious food.

In the months thereafter, she made me cornbread, barbequed ribs and, one time, a butter-cream-frosted carrot cake so fluffy and sweet I thought it disrespectful to use anything other than my hands to eat it.

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I had done nothing special to deserve it and figured I’d efficiently pay off my gratitude: A dinner out? A new cake stand? She declined both.

After I visited the first few times, I realized what probably mattered most to Ms. Janie, who, ever the homebody, always demanded I turn my car engine off and come inside. More than a quick dinner or easy gift, she valued having someone listen. Warm anecdotes of watching her mother cook, tales of her time as a prison nurse and uncomfortable accounts of relatives and friends who had recently died — she wanted to share her stories.

Admittedly, listening to stories was not initially part of the plan. Like the lie all “busy” people tell themselves, I thought I was too busy. (I wasn’t.) Ms. Janie and I didn’t really have anything in common worth discussing. (I discovered we did.)

Perhaps I was afraid of uncomfortably forcing a conversation with someone so different from me. (I became comfortable being uncomfortable).

We each have our own Ms. Janies, no? The gay classmate, the Hispanic co-worker or the church member we learned served time in prison — individuals whose lives and experiences we dismiss as too different and therefore best to avoid engaging.

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But what kind of state might we become if, after learning our classmate was gay, we resisted immediately espousing our approval or disapproval thereof? What if we instead created time and space to listen to what it might have been like for her to come out to parents who forsook her when she needed them?

What if instead of dismissing our Hispanic co-worker’s perspectives on economic opportunities, we created time and space to listen to her experience of being the first of her family to attend college?

What if we began confronting the need to respectfully reenter folks with criminal backgrounds back into our communities instead of reducing their lives to the one or two bad decisions they might have made?

As the product of a loud-talking, Bible-wielding, tell-it-like-it-is Southern family, I understand the challenge for some of us to be quiet and listen — much less with the skill it takes to do so effectively.

But what if we practiced resisting the temptation to use noise to trump nuance? Refrained from shouting “No!” so as to negate narratives that complicate our own? What if we were courageous enough to stumble through awkward conversations and educate ourselves with literature on folks from whom we have been taught to turn? What if we were not fearful of how our worldviews might — gasp! — change and become enriched as a consequence?

Imagine the possibilities.

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Cake and succulent ribs inspired my own desire to begin engaging the perspectives of someone who led a different life than I did.

My waist has expanded, but so too has my worldview. I find myself thinking more about what it means to proceed through life as an older person living alone and how that might impact basic, everyday decisions.

The reality is that more than a few good meals are at stake for South Carolina if we stubbornly close off our eyes, ears and hearts to folks who want to be heard, folks whose perspectives may challenge our way of life in hard but beautiful ways.

Good listening makes people feel understood. Necessary, even. For such has to be the start for good policymaking and strengthening community ties.

The old adage goes, “Those who tell stories rule the world.” I’d like to think that those who listen honestly move it in the direction of a more just and equitable one.

This story was originally published June 5, 2016 at 6:05 PM with the headline "How Ms. Janie taught me to listen."