I wanted to start this blog post with a link, but I can’t, because there are just too many of them. So I’ll start in my own voice and leave you to Google the rest.
The reason I wanted the link is because I’m starting from a concept that I’d heard before today only once, uniquely voiced. It’s around the issue of taking up space. I can’t remember where I read it and I wish I could, because I would love to have shared that post. But as I found out when searching for that link, this is a pretty well established thing. The idea that a certain type of person – that strangely indefinable “normal” person – has the implicit right to take up space. They don’t even need to ask. They just know.
As a person who is definitely not “normal”, I don’t honestly know what this person looks like. I know they exist – I have seen them and heard them and felt their impacts in the world – but in many cases my experience is not of individuals but of the faceless roar of “public opinion”, a surge of formless consensus that flows like the oncoming tide and cannot be pinned down. Who are these people, so many people, blessed with the implicit right to exist and the privilege not to know it? Probably, they are neurotypical. Probably, they are male. Possibly – at least if living in the “Western World” – they are white. And almost certainly, they are not disabled.
That’s not exactly what I’m here to write about, but I think it’s where to start. It seems to fit.
As a not-normal person, I have not the right to take up space. I can know this, although I cannot define “normal”. Like many in minority groups, I have learned the need to ask, rather than to expect any given space to suit my needs. For most of my life, I didn’t even know that I could ask. Often, even now, I am astounded by the number of options available to me that I’d assumed were simply “not allowed”. It’s simultaneously frustrating and liberating. To know that I can ask – and thus to be forced to take responsibility, constantly, for things that so many others can take as read.
But I digress. It’s not actually space that I wanted to talk about today. It’s time.
I have a lot of respect for people’s time, particularly at work. Perhaps it’s because of the difficulties I have with executive function and time management that I hate to interrupt my colleagues. I set high standards for the level of effort and time I should invest in tackling a problem before enlisting another’s aid, because I know how much those tiny tasks can cost. And in this way I make myself small. As if I have no right to take up time.
I believe my learned understanding that I don’t have a right to take up space translated into trying to minimise the amount of others’ time I “wasted”, by strictly limiting the amount of time I inflicted my presence upon them. I’m only just learning how many ways in which that is wrong! Not only the excessive quantities of my own time I’ve spent over the years struggling with problems that could have been solved in minutes, but in a wider strategic context: of ever getting any useful work done at all.
Which is where meetings come in.
I don’t like meetings. They are confusing, difficult to navigate, and can even be dangerous. But surprisingly, they do have their uses.
Traditionally, in the spirit of taking up as little space-time as possible, I’ve diligently avoided extended workplace face time. I’ve limited meetings to trying to communicate necessary information only, being focused and concise in my interactions to the point of extreme. I’ve felt fear at the lack of an agenda and struggled with the wasted hours spent repeating in circles what’s been discussed and decided innumerable times, and it seems to me will go on forever being discussed, never reaching a logical conclusion. And yet, eventually, it does. Which is the point I’ve been missing.
By restricting myself in this way, holding back from encroaching onto this precious sphere of time, I’ve lost out on some vital moments I could have learned from. I’m starting to realise that this slow, incremental progress is what makes things happen. Decisions aren’t made on the basis of evidence, considered clearly and openly and presented without guile. Decisions are made in the gut, by the inch. Innovative intentions to action are aired early, months before they are expected to take fruit. Results are drip-fed, subtly, constantly; like water carving a path through rock they gradually make a place for themselves in the shared consensus. By the time the final report is complete, the decision has already been made.
I’ve learned that I have to be much slower, less “efficient” and more expansive. I have to introduce people to an idea early on, and keep plugging it so that it stays in their mind. Practically speaking, this means arranging lots of meetings, and wasting a lot of time. But it’s time that others don’t seem to see as wasted. It’s the way we get things done.
I’m also finding out how much I can learn from what seems at first like a very inefficient use of company time. Counterintuitively, as long as a meeting has a goal, it doesn’t matter if the event becomes unfocused or the conversation strays. When arranging meetings myself I’ve found it’s a good idea to book a long slot for a small goal, as sometimes we want to discuss details or get off track. The extra time, instead of frustrating people, tends to ignite our imaginations – with less time pressure and the freedom to explore, we cover more ground. For science meetings, now, I always book a room for longer than we’ll need. Because it won’t be a waste when we use it.
Reflecting back on my “meetings” series a year ago: I’m learning. While I still struggle in meetings organised by other people, having used them myself to get things done I can understand a bit better now how they are supposed to work. Things don’t seem so hopeless as they did back then. As long as I’m looking after myself properly and have some resilience, I can adapt to make these traditionally NT-friendly spaces work for me. Which I could never have learned until I realised I had the right to exist. To take up space, and time.