#pauseandthink

On Twitter and Facebook this year I’ve been asking questions in a series I call #PauseAndThink or #PaT. I’ve enjoyed finding new purpose for my social media through something that is consistent and repeated. I probably modeled this after friends of mine who have other patterns.

The first time I used the hashtag was on 20 January 2017. I wanted to find a way to help people, in my way, get through what I feared and has turned out to be a tumultuous year. The questions I ask are big and small, topical and not. I ask them because I either think they’re important or interesting. Frequently they are questions pursuing unturned stones in the landscape of current conversation or just thoughts I come across that challenge assumptions I make. Sometimes they encourage mindful observation.

I’ve gotten questions about... these questions. And objections. In this post I’ll cover what I’ve seen.

I don’t like the name, either.

When I came up with this hashtag, I honestly couldn’t think of something better that captured what I was trying to do. #PauseAndThink, in some lights, sounds arrogant: implying that those reading it don’t think, even for a moment. That is not the intention. My approach is more like, “Here’s a suggested thought for your consideration.”

I do think the questions have value. I don’t think I am the sole arbiter of intellectualism. I’m a fan of nuance, after all.

One of the reasons I use #PaT most of the time is because I dislike the original label I gave this project. I haven’t found another so sufficiently better to warrant transitioning.

If no one answers my questions, that’s fine.

I find having a collection of interesting questions, easily searchable by a hashtag, to be useful and valuable. If I am ever bored or lacking a conversation topic, I can go to #PaT. I’ve passed along a link to my questions for someone constructing an event around having a bunch to ask people. It’s a resource.

Furthermore, even when I ask a question and get no response, some people almost assuredly saw it, read it, and maybe gave it a quick ponder. I never expect people to answer in replies or comments. I love it when they do, but it’s not a prerequisite for “success”.

My questions aren’t objective.

My questions reflect what I’m thinking about and what I find important. I try to make them broadly applicable, but even that doesn’t change the fact that they’re coming from my perspective.

The hashtag name and the simplicity of the project (no explanation, preamble, context) may imply an attempt at comprehensiveness or objectivity that isn’t there. I hope this post sets a slightly different tone for the whole thing.

Questions get in the queue when I think of them seemingly randomly. (I use Buffer, which shares posts I write later on both Facebook and Twitter.) I may have observed bursts of them when I’m less stressed, often after some big task is completed. This can happen at work, at a meal, when I’m with friends, just about any time. I formulate the question in a way that I think will most strongly evoke response or get to the heart of what I’m curious about.

#PaT is a product of randomness, craft, biases, and intentions. I want that to be clear.

Questions have different purposes.

Sometimes I ask questions because I’m genuinely curious for the distribution of answers among my circles. Sometimes the questions are pointing at a subject I don’t think is being considered enough. Sometimes a question is bridging a divide between groups that I feel are talking past one another.

Sometimes the questions have quick, simple answers. Sometimes the answers are long. Sometimes they’re stories, sometimes opinions. Sometimes they shouldn’t be answered publicly at all.

Character limits restrict clarity and contextualization.

This may sound pat, but it’s genuinely one cause of some of the objections I receive to this project. Twitter’s 140 characters encourages conciseness but harms the ability to appropriately frame and guide a conversation. Since I like to share the questions on both Facebook and Twitter, the most convenient way to do this is to fit all questions in the smaller space.

Sometimes, this has been a mistake, and I completely own that. I have caused harm and hurt feelings with questions that revealed unchecked privilege, assumed poorly, or fostered careless and hurtful answers. But only some of that is a product of character limits.

Still, my convenience is less important than creating inclusive and positive spaces.

My priorities need adjustment.

This post is inspired by a frustrated response to a question I asked about punching Nazis. This is a subject I have mixed feelings about, and I decided to propose the staple, “What would change your mind?” query for whatever stance readers had on the issue.

I did not do my due diligence to establish boundaries on the conversation, especially knowing the subject matter, current climate, and the challenging nature of the question.

A friend of mine answered with a phrase I found innocuous but that another friend (who is subject to the threat of Nazis) found alarming. It was a very casual phrase for such serious subject matter. A brief exchange with Another Friend about their frustrations revealed the need for this post explaining the project more thoroughly as well as my requirement to adjust.

When engaging in subjects that deeply and acutely affect people, I must prioritize respect and careful consideration of those effected. Questions have weight, and deeming to ask them is not a neutral act. There’s a broader context of responsibility that it is dishonest to retreat away from.

These questions matter because they affect people. One person’s thought exercise is another’s reality. To ignore the valid reactions and feelings of people is to undermine a primary tenet of the project (and of any good morality).

So, going forward, when asking questions about or adjacent to acutely harmful or troubling subjects, I will contextualize, remind readers of the real people effected by the subject, and judiciously moderate.

I’m sorry, Another Friend, for making these mistakes, but thank you for encouraging me to be better.