Quit Apologizing for Living

I know the Thursday posts on this blog are typically devoted to advocacy. But I was caught in my tracks yesterday by a conversation with my spouse, and frankly it’s stuck in my craw. So this is a bit of a rant.

In short, we were chatting about the challenges that working parents face with regard to establishing boundaries between career and home life. Considering the ubiquity of work-life balance conversations happening in the professional sphere, it’s astounding to me that I’m still seeing colleagues, specifically women, feel as if they need to apologize for having a life outside of work.

We all know those cringeworthy moments witnessing a co-worker suffer through the roller coaster of responding to a school emergency or child’s sickness. Just as concerning, though, are the challenges to balance the mundane events in ordinary, everyday life.

By the nature of my own work and the organizations with which I partner, I coordinate with colleagues in multiple time zones every day. We are constantly balancing schedules, and are often called on to hold early meetings. Needless to say, early in the Eastern time zone is even earlier in Central and Mountain time. Without fail, those early call times overlap with the school drop-offs, breakfast times, and daily routines of my co-workers out west.

Because of those overlaps, one of my female colleagues is almost always forced to join our zoom meetings via audio only, and often cannot weigh in on a question in real time. And somehow, every time we have one of those calls, she feels obligated to apologize for providing for her family. Thankfully she hears from senior leaders that those apologies aren’t necessary, that our family commitments come first.

Most importantly, it’s regularly conveyed in our organization that we are trusted to judge for ourselves what meetings we absolutely need to attend. I can speak from personal experience in uniform and while working in Congress that such trust is an uncommon organizational culture trait. Thank goodness I’ve joined a flatter organization, that has its priorities straight.

Listen, I understand the social pressure, the politeness gene that pushes us to apologize in those moments. But if we are truly serious about work-life balance and encouraging working parents to continue to advance their careers, it’s absolutely unreasonable to create cultural environments where that type of pressure is allowed. Leaders owe it to their teams to account for the more important job, that of parent, that we hold outside of our working day.

The toxicity of poor work-life balance, and the cultures that perpetuate it, are often unrecognized until too late. Good employees tend to leave organizations after having been drawn too thin over years. Great organizations, and those that would aspire to greatness, need to take a hard look at how they’re continuing through the ongoing pandemic. We need to figure out sooner, rather than later, if we are ignoring an opportunity to provide our teams the most tangible employee benefit: time.

There’s no one-size-fits-all solution to work schedules. Manufacturing, tech, agriculture, sales – every industry faces unique circumstances. But they all face a culture where a growing number of families rely on dual income streams, and we have to get serious about our cultures. The companies that move forward, developing innovative approaches to scheduling are destined to draw top performers. Those that don’t are going to lose out on the talent race.

But until those changes start to happen, I have a bit of unsolicited advice to my fellow working parents. Quit apologizing for living. We owe it to our employers to deliver on our work. But more importantly, we owe it to our children to deliver the best version of ourselves. Parenting is a full contact sport, don’t apologize for trying to make it to the championship.

It’s quiet…a little too quiet…

If you’re a parent, you’ve come to know the duplicitous nature of silence. At one and the same time, silence is a blessed reprieve and an ominous cloud on the horizon. But in those waking hours, silence leaves us asking “what could those little disaster factories be getting themselves into now?”

Except when we can account for them being safely snuggled in their beds at night, parents won’t find peace in silence. We’ll search frantically in those rare moments of daytime silence, equal parts fear for their safety and dread for what damage could be occurring to our home.

It seems to me that a lot of folks are having a similar reaction to the relative quiet coming from Washington, DC right now.

Democrats and Republicans alike find themselves playing the waiting game to see what policies the new administration, now well into its first 100 days, will prioritize. Trying to read the tea leaves of senior appointments and not-so-public negotiations on stimulus spending, lobbyists and government affairs types find themselves speculating on next moves. But worse, John Q. Public finds himself concerned at an apparent lack of activity right now.

I hear it in my daily calls. Everyone is asking roughly the same question: when will we see something happening on policy X? Unfortunately the answer is quite mixed.

For instance, many folks are wondering about implementation of spending set aside in December as part of the final Trump-era coronavirus relief bill. Some aspects of that relief bill have been paused for agency regulatory review. And because the average Joe or Jane doesn’t concern themselves with knowledge of administrative processes, it’s easy to assume the worst – that relief has been maliciously canceled. That’s simply not true. Neither would it be fair to say that bureaucrats have simply fallen asleep at the wheel.

Rather, we are simply in the second half of transition.

When we think about Presidential transitions, we almost exclusively focus on what happens before Inauguration Day. We seem to expect that Day 1 means activity can resume and that the gears of government will begin turning. Unfortunately we forget that those gears still move at the speed of government.

Traditionally, what we are seeing in DC right now is nothing new. The Biden administration is plugging its way through a backlog of proposed regulations. Coupled with the theatrics of the recent impeachment proceedings, that would be enough to grant us an uneasy silence. But we are also experiencing a significant congressional transition, and the rise of new committee chairs and caucus leadership.

You see, it’s not that our “kids” are necessarily on the verge of a dangerous stunt. They may not be finding their way to mischief. Right now, they’re more likely to be over stimulated, stressed from a frenetic pace and lack of routine.

But don’t fret! We’re starting to see those early signs of life and movement again. Regulatory proposals are starting to come forward. By the end of this month they’ll be getting back into stride. As advocates, we’ll be in the thick of appropriations season in just a moment’s notice. Before you know it we’ll be back to the bombast and back room dealing we embrace as a source of national entertainment and angst.

For what it’s worth, I recommend taking a moment to enjoy the relative calm. Call me an idealist, but maybe, for just a couple more days we can try to find a bit of peace in this ominous silence. Let’s hold onto it for a bit longer please.

On Perseverance

This is not a post about surviving the ongoing pandemic.

Just about the last thing anyone needs right now, from what I can tell, is another diatribe over how difficult everything continues to be in the wake of COVID-19. Even if I wanted to add my voice to that cacophony, today is not the day to do it. Because today, we get to celebrate Perseverance.

No, I’m not talking about a really important human character trait. I’m talking about a Martian rover about the size of a car. For the past six months it has been hurtling its way through our solar system at 24,600 miles per hour to reach the red planet. For those keeping track at home, that’s nearly 15 times the speed of the fastest bullets you can fire on Earth (eat your heart out Superman). Today, at about 3:55 Eastern Standard Time, our zippy, not so little friend is expected to touch down.

So what’s the big deal?

First, Mars is still really, REALLY hard to reach. Our optimal window for launching vehicles only happens just about every two years. These launch windows are at times when the orbital paths of both Earth and Mars bring them the closest together, dramatically shortening the travel distance and time, and saving precious fuel resources to help missions reach their goal. Oh and by the way, bringing an interplanetary vehicle from 25,000 mph to zero, and nailing a soft landing is exponentially harder on a planet that has very little atmosphere to help with the braking process.

Getting to Mars is so hard that of 12 missions so far, NASA has only successfully landed 8. Each one of those failures represents a huge investment in research, development, production, launch and mission costs. (And NASA has the best record of any space agency in the world!)

Secondly, NASA is trying some incredible new approaches with this mission: including a helicopter and a crane. Now, reading that, you probably thought neither of those was really remarkable, right? But let’s talk about it.

It’s not just any crane. It’s a rocket assisted, descent stage crane that will lower Perseverance softly into rough terrain from about 60 feet above the surface, disconnect itself, and then fly off to a safe distance from the lander before meeting its own demise. I can’t do justice to the INSANE level of innovation this represents for NASA. You should watch this video for a better understanding.

And it’s not just any old helicopter. It’s a 4 pound drone, operating autonomously on a planet with negligible atmosphere, in an area that drops to -130 degrees Fahrenheit at night. Because of communications delays, it could complete successful flights long before NASA/JPL even know it received the complex instructions necessary for it to execute missions. Audacious.

But that’s not all. The final, really big deal I’ll point out here today: Perseverance is going to bring some Mars back to us. If you tune into the NASA coverage of the landing, they’re likely to talk about this in a lot more detail. But one of the mission goals is to collect soil samples that will be returned to Earth on a separate Mars mission. I smiled ear to ear when I got to hold a moon rock. I may just cry if I ever get to touch a Martian pebble.

We are at the doorstep of a golden age for human space flight. Perseverance was named fittingly for 2020 and all the challenges it brought us. But it was also named fittingly for all that our endeavors in deep space represent about the human spirit. I hope you’ll take a moment today, look to the heavens, and celebrate the first milestones of this intrepid, not so little robot.

Form Letters and Failure

I remember in my earliest years as a political volunteer that I felt an intense repulsion to the idea of helping with a letter writing campaign. In the early 2,000s, on the leading edge of social media platforms, such campaigns were far more prevalent than they are today. Advocacy organizations built strategies around helping their volunteers share personal impact stories with elected officials.

In the years since Facebook stormed into our lives and gave us all a broad platform to share mass media and memes, we’ve lost a beat on that personal narrative strategy. And it’s a bigger loss, a bigger failure, than we may realize.

There’s a really good chance that you may not have heard about the the Congressional Management Foundation (CMF). A nonpartisan non-profit, CMF works to improve the relationship between congressional staff and advocacy organizations by providing training and recognizing best practices. They also happen to have decades of research on just what moves the needle for legislators when considering bills before them.

In scouring through their research it’s easy to see there’s a severe disconnect between what works and what advocacy groups still seem to prioritize.

What did CMF find?

The team at CMF interviewed representatives and their staffs and focused on two metrics that stuck out to me: a) communications tactics that those members and staff consider “effective” in helping a member come to a decision; and b) the frequency with which they experience those communication tactics. For instance, a member may find a clearly defined “ask” as helpful, but they may not often receive that clearly defined ask.

The rubber meets the road in two categories for me. Nearly 80% of federal legislators find it helpful to receive a “personal story” related to a bill or issue in coming to a decision. BUT, less than 20% of those same legislators report frequently receiving those personal stories. Fewer than 1 in 5 are being told, regularly, by their constituents how a specific bill relates to their life or livelihood.

More astonishing? Over 9 in 10 representatives find that information about a bill’s impact on their district is helpful while less than 1 in 10 frequently receive those impact analyses. Advocacy groups are asleep at the wheel when it comes to their own narratives and don’t even realize it.

So what happened?

I’ve admittedly not got the data to back this up, but I bet it has a lot to do with how we are using social media as an activation tool these days.

I danced around this concept in an earlier post in this series: On Hashtags, Fax Machines and Cults of Personality. But in short, as social media has evolved over the past 15+ years the balance between social and media has gone awry. Legacy platforms such as Facebook, Twitter and Instagram have become more heavily utilized as Media platforms, while others like LinkedIn and TikTok (though to a diminishing degree) have remained true to the Social interaction roots of social media.

I believe there’s an argument to be made that while those legacy platforms have been evolving, our actions have been conditioned toward formulaic approaches as organizations. We see social media campaigns as tangible, visible deliverables that activate our membership. Worse, our volunteers have come to expect that those approaches are just as effective as others. But by creating one-size-fits-all content to be shared, liked and commented on, we’re leaving less and less room for our advocates to convey their narratives.

If the CMF research is showing us anything, it’s that those formulaic approaches are diminishing our value in the legislative process. We have to find new ways to put our advocates’ own stories, experiences, and impact analyses front and center in our advocacy and communication strategies again. Otherwise, something like 80% of decision makers will never hear what they need to make a critical decision on an issue.

When I was a younger advocate, my issue with letter campaigns was that I was…well…lazy. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. Even then I wanted the easy way out and a form letter approach so I could just sign my name and move on. But what we had right in those earlier years was encouraging our advocates to share their stories directly. It’s time to get back to those basics.

In our own social media campaigns, we need to facilitate opportunities for those narratives. Short videos, live events, interactive graphics – the tools are all there. Let’s put them in front of our people and empower them to reach those decision makers in truly effective ways.

Next week, I’m planning to dive into some stories about ineffective strategies I’ve seen from groups over the years. I hope you’ll check in! And in the mean time, tell me what you think about my assertion here today. Do you think we’ve tried to make it too easy for our advocates? Has that degraded our quality? Drop a comment and let me know!

5 Things I Learned in My First Week on Clubhouse

Last week I shared with you that I received an invite to the new social media platform, Clubhouse. Since then, I’ve fielded a flurry of questions about the app, its culture, and how to get “in.”

In as brief a format as I can muster, here are the top 5 things I’ve learned in my first week on Clubhouse:

Flip the script. This app isn’t about looking cool. Unlike other platforms, your ratio of “following” to “followers” is not directly correlated to your influence. At this point we’ve all been conditioned that leaders in social media are defined by the size of their following crowd.

By contrast, users on Clubhouse are encouraged to follow as many others as they can. This tactic maximizes your notifications about ongoing conversations and active clubs. Making the switch is admittedly difficult – but when you buy in, you face a distinct uptick in your own exposure.

But exposure is more than just being in the room. So throw away your tendency to quietly slide into direct messages. In fact, you can’t. Currently, Clubhouse doesn’t offer a user to user text message system. And I hope they never do.

The entire culture of the app is built around identifying, and then using, your voice. “Lurkers” who hang in the back of the room are squandering an opportunity for contextual conversation. Yes, you can glean from others – but speaking opens you up to the prospect of adding value to others. In briefly addressing a room yesterday I made dozens of new connections across other platforms because people started reaching out.

But that outreach threatens your anonymity. And I find that particularly appealing. The culture of the app encourages linking to your other social accounts so you can have those follow up engagements. But a secondary benefit may just be a diminution in “keyboard warrior” and troll culture.

Between linking your other accounts and an app based on speaking in your own voice, we may be on the verge of recapturing an earlier internet culture. At the dawn of the digital age, competing camps battled it out over whether the internet should be anonymous or carry some level of verifiable user identification. Over decades we’ve cherished the former, but on Clubhouse we may just be moving back toward the latter. It’s not perfected, and I’m sure shysters abound, but the culture seems to have potential to weed them out.

Because context is king, and the community can probably smell your bullsh*t. Falsifying your credentials is a lot harder when you have to share your own thoughts in real time. You can build an immaculate profile, but to really get noticed on the app you have to back it up by speaking live.

That jump is difficult for a lot of folks who’ve built themselves followings on other platforms because it’s significantly more challenging to fabricate your content. You can’t filter the quavering of your voice. You’re there for the whole room to experience – blemishes, “ums” and all.

But the community is there to help. And this is the key point. Unlike any other social media platform, there is a culture of contribution and collaboration. Early adopters are actually helping newbies maximize their own potential on the app. It’s truly remarkable.

In short, the community seems to strive to return the social to social media. They draw you into engagement instead of consumption. That’s likely the appeal that will, if anything, make this platform stick. It’s not a never ending podcast session; it’s an ongoing cup of coffee. And for a caffeine addict like me, that is priceless.

If you haven’t gotten into Clubhouse yet, I hope this post pulled the curtain back a little. But I also hope it prompts some questions. What do you want to know? Are you looking for an invite? Or are you looking for some clubs? Leave a comment and let me know how I can help!

Three Things to Stop Doing on Social Media Right Now – Advocate Edition

Two weeks ago, I leapt into the breach, finally deciding to let go of some bad habits on social media, and investing in it more than ever. Concurrently, I launched this series on the challenges advocacy organizations face in navigating the tools available to them in the world of social media.

There are two main goals with this series:

  1. Maintaining your own sanity as an advocate in the political social media realm.
  2. Recognizing social media as a mere tool, and providing tips on how to leverage it effectively in your broader advocacy plans.

Today I want to cover part of both topics in one fell swoop. Let’s see if I’m up for it.

In my opinion, the stressors surrounding social media have, typically, made it a lose-lose proposition for advocates. Only in rare exceptions have advocacy brands been able to break through the noise, gain the public attention and reach decision makers. Rather, the cultures behind the various platforms often cause unnecessary friction points, the algorithms limit reach, and brand management replaces our humanity. So, let’s talk about three things you can stop doing TODAY to mitigate those challenges.

STOP trying to be all things to all platforms. Simply put, your organization’s culture, language, and agenda will not translate to all social media crowds. Personally, I find the caustic nature of Twitter repellant. In the last few weeks, I’ve withdrawn from Twitter (not that I was there much to begin with except for Browns football). I strive to be a bridge builder – especially with this blog. That type of approach does not translate to a platform where “winning” is built around cutting others down.

In the same vein, I’m not terribly active on Instagram. I’ve posted some since joining in late 2020, but the format seems limited for expressing ideas. While they’ve attempted to create a more interactive experience through Reels and Stories, the user experience for both of these is still highly limited and not entirely intuitive.

Take a hard look at the stories you tell. How are they framed? Who is your target audience? Where are they already? As an advocacy organization, you don’t need to cast an all-encompassing net. You need to cast the net you can handle in the water where the fish are feeding.

STOP ignoring your advocates’ personal brands. It boils down to numbers. Your organization and employees’ personal networks only extend so far. For too long, advocacy groups have relied on the passive, top down approach of generating “form” content and asking volunteer advocates just to “like, share and comment.” The reality about most platform algorithms? That doesn’t extend your reach.

You have to reconsider leveraging the ripple effect possible by empowering your advocates to speak on your behalf in their own words. This obviously carries some risk, and you have to invest considerable time in preparing those vocal advocates in order to mitigate that risk. But until we crack the code on reach, our messages will never compete with corporate brands who can buy it.

The value added with new platforms like TikTok and Clubhouse is organic growth. Users have grown weary from the formulaic approach of legacy platforms. But to really advance your message, you’re going to have to lean into that organic approach, and surrender at least a bit of control – which brings me to the last tip:

STOP being robots.

We’re altogether too polished. I’m not saying we should throw away brand standards. Far from it – I think we need to embolden our brand ambassadors to be display their passion in a more human way.

If you are advocating for something, it’s deeply personal. Why are we sterilizing our message by over-refining our talking points? Social media is long overdue for moments of vulnerability, frustration, and unfettered joy alike. Like life, advocacy is messy. Staged photos in front of the Capitol don’t capture the passion you have when fighting for those deeply personal issues. Take a risk. Be human.

I’m in the process of re-learning all of this myself. Hence this series. But think about how you’ve approached social platforms for your issues before. What would these three tips look like for you? I hope you’ll take a moment to share some reflections in the comments below!

Speaking of social media…

In the year and a half since I left a staff position in the electoral politics realm to lobby for an association, I’ve experienced an immense paradigm shift with regards to social media. I think it’s especially fitting to share this personal shift with you all as we’re in the middle of a series on social media in advocacy.

There’s something about working in politics, at any level, that forces you into a “conservative” mindset when it comes to social media. I’m not talking about your ideological leanings, rather your willingness to engage in the social media environment. I’ve touched on this before – even staff for elected officials can feel an overwhelming pressure on their personal lives. For that reason, I’d contend that we lean toward utilizing social media platforms as professional tools more than personal.

I see the impact firsthand when I look at Facebook memories from campaign years, past public events representing a boss, and the clear and palpable absence of personal material. In effect, my social media experience was managed, produced, fabricated for my employer’s benefit, not mine.

Now, in an entirely new professional setting, I’m finding social media to be fun again. I’m finding it engaging, and that’s likely because I’m more inclined to engage myself. In a matter of months I’ve become more active on LinkedIn and Twitter, created an Instagram account, and joined both TikTok and Clubhouse (both in the last 10ish days).

The last two have been especially enjoyable. TikTok still holds potential to grow your presence organically. Algorithms aside, the people of TikTok come across raw, flaunting talents and failures alike. The platform can lay claim to a truly unique opportunity for users to be exposed to something new and build engaging community along the way by the tools built into an incredibly easy editing platform.

But now, it’s time for the new kid on the block: Clubhouse.

Just last night I received one of the coveted invites to join this audio based platform. Honestly, I felt like I’d found a gold wrapped Wonka bar. If you haven’t heard of it yet, and are old enough to remember AOL instant messenger, it’s akin to a chat room system – but entirely audio. You can drop into ongoing open conversations on just about any topic that interests you – and hear from experts. And, for now, you can only get in by invitation. Exclusivity sells.

For those of us who devour podcasts and audiobooks, this is the next evolution. And it has the potential to be a remarkably valuable development tool. Last night, I spent 30 minutes in a room while doing dishes. And unlike the produced nature of podcasts, my Clubhouse room was unscripted and interactive.

There’s an irresistible pull on me right now to jump in. So, here I am, continuing to evolve from my reticent, reserved social media approach to that of a junkie. I’m experimenting with new ways to share my ideas, personality and experiences – and it’s frankly, rewarding as hell.

From my point of view, too few are taking the next step to create content, share their ideas, and even flaunt their faults. Far too many are using platforms solely for cyber stalking or selling their wares. They’re not really being social at all. TikTok and Clubhouse may just help crack the code for you to evolve your paradigm. Then again, a blog may be your outlet (it sure was the catalyst for me).

But what about you? What platforms are appealing to you these days? Why? Are you craving audio content over video or text? Are you looking for interactive, live experiences or are you looking for edited final products? Are you thinking about creating? Share your thoughts below – and include your handles/usernames so people can connect on your favorite platform!

I’ll leave you with this gem. Find me on TikTok (@partofthepossible) for more epiphany moments like this:

Do You Wish To Unsubscribe?

Last week, I kicked off a special series focused on social media in advocacy. I also announced that I was going to ask some other contributors to add their voices to the discussion. Today, a good friend and trusted colleague is trying his hand at blogging with a first-ever post focused on the first of our two goals in this series:

  1. Maintaining your own sanity as an advocate in the political social media realm.
  2. Recognizing social media as a mere tool, and tips on how to leverage it effectively in your broader advocacy plans.

I hope you’ll take a moment and leave a comment for today’s author, Abe Jacob. Trust me when I say putting yourself out there like this is a big step. So, let’s help him get started, eh?

So, without further ado, I present Abe and his thoughts on successfully building a filter for all that confronts us online these days.

-LC

Profile photo of Abe Jacob
Abe Jacob is a Government Relations Professional in Columbus, Ohio
Connect with him on LinkedIn

Do you wish to unsubscribe? That all too familiar question we are asked before we end our “viewing pleasure” to online ads, profiles, and those emails we never signed up for to begin with. We are given that opportunity to decide if we want to dismiss it, give it one more chance, or simply take a break from it.

For those of us in government relations, it can literally be part of our job to keep a pulse on individuals, issues, groups, and clients to capitalize on solid relationship building. Is there a way for those that making a living from networking to find solace within their social media use without being weighed down by content overload? Unsubscribing may be the ideal technique we can start using for the relationships we face both on professional and personal levels.

With the growth of social media becoming interwoven in our daily lives as a news source, beacon of macro messaging, and the occasional location to check-up on someone just to be nosey, the public relations and advocacy industry has been forced to evolve with the times.

Over time, I’ve realized that face to face meetings are no longer essential to gain a snapshot understanding the brand of a client, product, political candidate, or public official. While it is helpful for a quick briefing or company research, it also creates a portal to the minutiae loved ones’ personal lives.

It’s overwhelming – that tidal wave of overnight doctors, philosophers, and policy experts that undoubtedly never fail to miss an opportunity to share with the world their opinion, an unreliable news article, humble brags, and the notorious asking for support to draw attention their way without ever saying what the problem is. After a while, you feel that mental heaviness draining your energy and while you can’t completely sign off social media, if you’re like me, you need a break.

There aren’t many of us out there who don’t have a notorious ornery relative. The ones we brace ourselves for prior to reading their consistent takes on politics, religion, weather, traffic, and a whole host of experiences happening daily that requires the time, consideration, and translation of their social media followers.

For me, I jokingly say that I’m cursed by being blanketed with “Catholic Guilt” when I’ve wronged someone that is important to me. Many of you know the guilt I’m referring to. The one that hits you in the pit of your stomach and you don’t ever find refuge unless you make it right.

I felt that when I experienced a relative continuing to send me direct messages of false political “news” stories for long periods of time. With every fiber of my being, I explained that I try to avoid the salacious news stories that accompany the presidential campaign, but they kept forwarding me articles. Finally, I muted their ability to send me messages via the social media app. It wasn’t a great feeling and the anxiety that I anticipated surely arrived right on time. I knew the risk associated with them being offended, but the bottom line was that they wanted to be heard, yet they clearly chose not to hear me.

That’s when it was time to unsubscribe! Since then, I’ve only felt relief from that decision. The anxiety brought on by the build up of the decision was the real hurdle, not the action itself and I take solace in knowing that.

I think for some, it is harder to unsubscribe from friends than our own family members. Obviously, that isn’t the case for everyone, but there is a large population of us that treasure the  friends we refer to as our “chosen family”.  The ones that have been in our lives for literally decades and helped create enough memories to fill miles of bookshelves.

Thanks to social media, friends can stay updated from hours, miles, and sometimes countries away from one another. Unfortunately, those updates sometimes carry an amount of emotional and mental heaviness that clouds the reasons you two became friends. Considering I had seven members of my wedding party, joint best men, and three bachelor parties, clearly, I have never met a stranger. However, as I use social media to check for posts related to my industry, I’ve found myself getting caught up in the daily troubles that accompany people I genuinely care about as friends.

I’ve witnessed a friend evolve from being a union democrat to an outspoken republican. While that’s nothing new in this country and everyone is entitled to vote how they wish, it has left me wondering if that’s all that has changed about them. It is not for me to cast judgement upon their beliefs, but it’s when others forget the core meaning of friendship as it relates to interacting with one another on social media.

While it remains important to cherish every moment that’s made us the truest of friends, life has pointed us in different directions. Since I first started working in state government, I’ve slowly but surely backed away from forcing my political beliefs down the proverbial throats of some of my dearest friends through social media. If we really are friends, they know if I’ve evolved or remain firm on a certain subject or candidate. However, it’s the ones who automatically assume I’m still the “wet behind ears” novice at the statehouse that loop me into a maze of political banter with no end in sight.

Rather than immersing oneself in layers of guilt, we all should take some time to realize if a relationship like that needs to continue, needs a pause, or concludes with respect, honor, and reverence for the time you shared as friends.

All of those examples can be helped by allowing unsubscribing be that shelter from the storm. Unsubscribe does not mean people are cut out permanently, but rather gives our hearts, minds, and souls an opportunity to decipher how we wish to live our lives. The difficult part is maneuvering around the mental drain from individuals or social media activity while remaining top notch in task of building and nurturing relationships.  A couple ways to accomplish unsubscribing in a respectful manner would be the following:

  1. Use the filtering options your social media app(s) provide so that you’re able to focus on the content relevant to your job/client, without the heavy distraction from those who chose to vent their negativity to the world. You don’t necessarily have to delete someone. Using an “unfollow” option provides a very similar result without stirring the pot with family or friends.
  2. If a certain public official is incredibly important to a client but is heavy on posting about topics that makes you roll your eyes or is clearly headline grabbing, some social media allow you to “snooze” their posts for 30 days or so. Utilize that so you’re still connected without getting caught up in a policy topic that doesn’t benefit you or your client.
  3. Create a profile that is solely dedicated to your professional networking. Friends and family would more likely understand the specific content you are connecting with if they realize it is what helps you bring home the bacon. Or veggie burger if that’s your flavor of the week.

Over time, I have realized that we all have it within ourselves to unsubscribe from the noise, pressure, and unnecessary burdens that we impose on ourselves through life lessons, traditions, or simply guilt. There’s no time to waste when our careers can be taken to the next level and yet, we are drained emotionally by outside distractions.

If unsubscribing opens the gate towards success, do it. Just like that online shopping app, we have the option to resubscribe when we believe we have the mindset and words to utilize that relationship as it was intended. While we should live our lives to support more than just ourselves, our relationships aren’t truly genuine if we can’t focus on what’s most important.

Investing in others is a big part of personal development, but so is knowing when to take time for yourself. Do you wish to unsubscribe? That’s for you to decide!

Space for All

No doubt by now you’ve come to know my self-professed obsession with the world of human spaceflight. In my nearly 36 years, the boyish wonder I’ve felt on this topic has only grown. But all along, that same wonder has remained shaded by the reality of the dangers of the pursuit.

In the past few days NASA marked the anniversaries of both the Apollo 1 and Challenger disasters. These moments of national tragedy have often been drummed up in efforts to bring into question the value of continuing on. We’ve struggled, for decades, to balance the many challenges we face as a country with that uniquely American desire to keep pressing on into the unknown.

We keep following that path of discovery. On some level we accept that there is no further reasoning needed beyond the acknowledgment that we do so because it’s simply what’s next. With blood and treasure, we keep re-committing ourselves to a grand achievement. Only, until the last decade, our pace seemed to gradually suffer a stutter, arguably slowing to a lurch

And then the last few years have found us building to a sprint. I find it only fitting that yesterday, just days after those tragic anniversaries, we welcome the news of an incredible announcement from SpaceX:

SPAXEX TO LAUNCH INSPIRATION4 MISSION TO ORBIT

Many likely continue to shake their head when they learn of Elon Musk’s goals to make humanity a multi-planetary species. They scoff, still, about humans going to Mars in our lifetimes, not as the Apollo astronauts to visit and return, but to colonize and prosper.

Those dreams are both immense and imminent. But with the announcement of Inspiration4, perhaps those same naysayers will take pause and ponder the opportunity of their own voyage beyond orbit.

Now- 35 years removed from the Challenger tragedy – we are re-committing to space travel for civilians in a big way. With a renewed vigor, we’re going after the goals first embodied by a teacher, Christa McAuliffe, who would have been the first of us “regular people” to break into orbit.

Under the SpaceX model the path forward for human spaceflight is clear. We’re democratizing space through free market pursuits. As SpaceX and their future competitors refine reusability and collapse the cost curve, we come closer to the ideal our country sought with the space shuttle. A future where that final frontier is open to all of us who’d try for it is, finally, within reach.

I was less than a year old at the time of the Challenger explosion. But the images of that day, and those that followed, have been an ever present part of my own experiences of the wonders surrounding human spaceflight. One that stands out is the Oval Office address from President Reagan when he summoned the sentiments of poet John Gillespie Magee, Jr to soothe a nation in mourning.

Magee was an Anglo-American pilot who joined the Royal Canadian Air Force during the second World War. Only nineteen years old at the time of his death in a training accident, he left an unimpeachable testimony to the world on the majesty of human flight. As we look both to our past tragedies, and forward to all that lies ahead, his words remain an inspiration to me. I hope, as you think about what could be, they’ll be the same for you. 

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth, 
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; 
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth of sun-split clouds - 
and done a hundred things You have not dreamed of - 
wheeled and soared and swung high in the sunlit silence. 
Hovering there I've chased the shouting wind along 
and flung my eager craft through footless halls of air.
Up, up the long delirious burning blue 
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace, 
where never lark, or even eagle, flew; 
and, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod 
the high untrespassed sanctity of space, 
put out my hand and touched the face of God.

On Hashtags, Fax Machines and Cults of Personality

I’ve been thinking about social media a great deal lately. Well, social media and fax machines.

A few years back, I was placed in the awkward position of training a Gen Z intern on operating a fax machine. It was a brutal reminder that as an early Millennial my life experience has bridged the gap between the analog and digital ages. Even more brutal? Explaining how many government agencies still conducted business via fax machine.

Technology, and social media in particular, have assumed an outsized role in our personal lives. In many ways, we’ve come to expect our social media experiences to translate into the other aspects of our lives. We’ve come to demand immediate gratification, public recognition of our thoughts, and (subliminally) decision makers to be impacted by volume.

As I’ve been thinking about social media and advocacy, I kept coming back to that experience training a younger employee on a piece of machinery that most would say had gone the way of the dinosaur. Then an idea struck me, and frankly I haven’t been able to shake it for a few days:

hashtags are the new fax machines

Wait. Hear me out.

Government offices seem to be the last realm of facsimile transmission. And it makes sense, most everyone in the West has migrated to e-mail communication at minimum. But, government offices run on government budgets. Those budgets are limited, constrained, stretched thin. But government offices are still everywhere. So how are those ubiquitous bastions of bureaucracy going to keep up with each other over the long, arduous evolution into the digital age? Passive, but relatively reliable, communication technologies like fax machines. And so they’ve hummed along for the past decade, dutifully tended and awaiting their final day of utility.

It’s the particularly passive aspect of fax machines that got stuck on repeat in my mind over recent days. Those of us *old* enough to have worked with faxes remember fondly that “a fax sent is not always a fax received.” You’d spend just as much time calling colleagues across the country to ensure they got the darn thing as you did preparing a document to feed through the machine without jamming. You had to. The alternative was to cross your fingers and hope that your message got through.

What folks are failing to realize these days is that hashtags are no better. Honestly, even directly tagging a person or an organization in a post is no greater guarantee that your message is getting through. And when you account for the grossly amplified impact of social media influencers, your average organization stands almost no chance of breaking through the noise on most social media platforms. But when we rely on the simplicity of hashtags and tagging, we are defaulting to the same style of passive communication we once knew through fax machines. Worse yet, we don’t even take the time to call and make sure the message was received anymore.

Short of TikTok and LinkedIn, which still hold a distinct value for organic reach, social media campaigns on most platforms simply aren’t worth the value we’re assigning them. Advocacy organizations would be hard pressed to co-opt the latest viral sensation to advance their agenda with a decision maker. You simply cannot expect to compete with the social media giants: influencers and companies like Wendy’s that have carved out a distinct social media brand that moves the needle in the minds of millions. These giants have developed cult like followings (and haters) that dominate the scene.

But notice I didn’t say social media campaigns aren’t worth doing. There is absolutely a role for social media to play as one piece in your organization’s advocacy plan. But would be advocates need to take a hard look at the weight we are allotting to these modern day fax machines.

Over the next several weeks, regular Thursday posts on this blog are going to focus on social media in advocacy, under two main themes:

  1. Maintaining your own sanity as an advocate in the political social media realm.
  2. Recognizing social media as a mere tool, and tips on how to leverage it effectively in your broader advocacy plans.

As the series develops, I’m hoping to bring in a couple of folks to share their insights. The first guest writer will be pitching in next Thursday and I hope you’ll give him a warm welcome to the blog. Putting your thoughts out in this format, as a living document, is no small feat. So, check in next Thursday and consider showing a little extra love in the comments and on the “like” button.

In the mean time, I want to hear from you. What’s on your mind about social media? Is there an aspect to it that seems particularly challenging as you try to advocate for your issues? What trips you up? Where have you been successful? What are you trying to do differently in the coming year?

Drop a comment below, or drop me a line with ideas on what to cover in the coming weeks: luke@partofthepossible.com. Good hunting!