Sexism and Community Building

At the AGM

I sit on the board of a community group and I participated in their AGM last week. After presentations from the Chair and elections of board members, the group was split up into three groups to brainstorm some ideas for our next steps.

I was working to facilitate one of the groups, standing at the flip chart taking notes. I made a few suggestions myself and tried to help people elaborate some of their ideas and tried to moderate some conflicting opinions, while capturing all the ideas on paper.

I was the only woman in the group and also the youngest person there – there was only one other person under 50 in a group of 8 or 9 people.

I felt that everything went quite well in the group. We elicited some good ideas, heard some interesting feedback and made some connections.

"You fail as a leader."

As the time drew to a close, our Chair stepped over to the group and asked me to wrap up. I told the group we just had about a minute left. It didn't really register with the group. The two other groups in the room were still talking and ours kept going too. A couple of minutes later, the Chair came over again and asked me to wrap up. I apologized to her that I hadn't already gotten the group to finish.

One of the men in my group said, "You fail as a leader."

"What?" I said, shocked.

"You fail as a leader," he repeated.

I froze

I didn't know what to say. The request had been to return to the main part of the room, so we all did. The meeting ended. I chatted with a few people there about some ideas for future plans. I went home and seemed fine. And then I couldn't get to sleep. I was haunted by this seemingly unprovoked hostile comment.

The aftermath

I stewed and fussed. Had I failed as a leader? Had I somehow left this man feeling unheard in the group? Or did he simply hate being in a group that was being facilitated by a woman three decades his junior?

My first reaction was one of self-righteousness and rage. Here I was putting hours of volunteer time into this worthy cause only to be shot down by some jerk who came to one meeting and felt entitled to try to undermine me. Then, I began to doubt myself, my own intentions, my own abilities. Perhaps I had failed in some way and this was this man's way of telling me that I had offended or slighted him. On the other hand, maybe he was just sexist or agist and wanted to put me in back into the place he thought I should be in.

What to do?

I spent a few hours feeling like I never wanted to volunteer or try to lead again. Then I thought, well, I could just work within my own community where there is a lot of trust and love, where I know people and am known and I don't have to deal with sexist strangers.

Then I thought about it some more and realized that that is not realistic. I care about things in my bigger community. I have opinions and energy and I want to make a difference.

And what I really want to do is learn how to un-freeze in the face of sexism – or apparent sexism. I go into shock – partly because I have never been very good at reconciling my Free to Be, You and Me 70s childhood indoctrination with how sexist the world really is. And I freeze partly because the patriarchal nature of our culture has always felt pretty crushing to me. I'm hurt by it and I instinctively try to protect myself.

How to change?

I wish now that I had asked that man what he meant and tried to find out what was behind his comment. If it was intended as a joke, I might have been able to explain to him that it was an unwelcome joke that felt demoralizing to me. If it was meant as a sexist comment, I could have told him how I felt about that. And if his comment was in response to a legitimate grievance, perhaps we could have worked that out and I might have learned something about my facilitation style and how I could have helped shape a better experience for that man.

Help!

What's your advice? Do you have any tactics for dealing with sexism that you'd like to share? Do you meet it head-on? Do you have a snappy comeback at the ready? Do you freeze and stew later, like I did? I'd love to hear your insights about how to be a better leader, volunteer, activist and feminist.

My community hall is my spiritual home

I live in a rural community called West Dublin, Nova Scotia. About five doors away from my home, there's a hall - The Rebekkah Emerald Lodge is its official name, but most of us in the community call it The West Dublin Hall, or just, The Hall.

The West Dublin Hall, June 2, 2012

The Hall is simply magic. It's wooden and warm. It has amazing acoustics. It gathers us together as a community and holds us safe and happy.

For the past three summers, we've hosted a farmers' and artisans' market in The Hall. When The Hall is thrumming with activity during a Saturday market, it feels like we are the beating heart at the centre of our community. The Hall is where we distribute our local newspaper, The West Dublin Monitor, on market days.

I only moved to West Dublin about two and a half years ago. I grew up 50 minutes away, in Clearland, Nova Scotia, just outside of Mahone Bay. When I was 18, I moved to Toronto and lived there for many years. When I came back to the east coast, I landed in West Dublin by a happy accident – an old friend happened to have space in his house to rent to me.

I'd only been here a couple of months before I got involved with some people who were interested in starting a festival. That festival, the Pennybrook Festival, ended up being located just down the road from The Hall on Pennybrook Farm. The people I met at those first festival meetings have become a core group of people who work together to create interesting events at The Hall and elsewhere in our community.

Ian Foster and Ashley Condon share a high-five.

Last night, I presented a music show at The Hall. Two wonderful singer-songwriters, Ian Foster and Ashley Condon were touring in Nova Scotia (from Newfoundland and from Prince Edward Island, respectively). It felt so good to be able to welcome them to The Hall and invite them to grace The Hall with their songs. Jude Pelley (of the band, Pennybrook, as well as the farm and festival of the same name) mixed the sound perfectly and The Hall filled and resonated with beautiful music. It was an intimate show; the audience was engaged and appreciative. I'd be willing to bet that I wasn't the only one with chills running up and down my spine when Ian or Ashley sang some of their more poignant songs.

The grand finale, with Ian, and his partner and back-up singer, Nancy, joining Ashley for her song "I'm Coming Home, Amen!" had everyone pitching in with a rousing chorus of Amens.

I think that might have been the moment that I realized that The Hall is my spiritual home. It is where I get to join with people in a spirit of community to sing, chat, buy fresh veggies and art, read the news, share my opinions, hug my friends and neighbours, smile, listen to music, dance and feel completely at home. I landed here by accident, but I will stay with intention.

Alex Hickey is a singer-songwriter who lives in rural Nova Scotia. She tweets at @alexsings and @churchofbanjoy.