Jay, you offer much valuable thought for consideration, and I can see that it can fit various situations. I plan to listen again another time still, and I am happy for you and all that you have learned and are sharing.
JP, I appreciate that. Reflection takes time, and I respect the way you’re letting the words settle. If anything in my writing sparks something new or resonates differently when you revisit it, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for taking the time to engage with it.
Your message about power structures reminds me that, when I was training to become a counselor, I learned about the importance of maintaining the awareness that I was the counselor and the other person was my client. Meaning: be careful with the power handed to you. Tread with sensitivity and care. Do not "other" the person sitting with you.
As you said, there is always a power dynamic at play in conversations. Now that I no longer practice counseling, I still try to tuck that in the back of my mind. For most of my life, I was not given a voice, much as you stated here. So when I started using my voice, it was LOUD. And I interrupted everyone! Finally, I was heard!
And now that I am in my mid-forties, I know the wisdom of toning it down, of listening, of entering into the other person's experience rather than trying to sate the edge of restlessness from my own insecurities. I do not always get this right or do this well, but it is something I revisit often in my own personal reflections.
Jeannie, thank you for your words and for sharing this part of your own journey.
What you named about the early urge to speak loudly, even to interrupt, speaks so honestly to the hunger to exist in a world that once silenced us. I’ve felt that too—like finally breaking the surface after being held underwater.
And yes, the shift toward listening… not as a surrender, but as a reclaiming of power that doesn't need to dominate to be real. There's grace in that. And it takes courage to keep revisiting the tension between presence and power, voice and silence, especially when our history has taught us to fight just to be heard.
I’m grateful we’re in this reflection together—learning not just how to speak, but how to be with each other. That’s where the transformation begins.
Jeannie, that means a lot. I didn’t write that line to be poetic—it came from lived tension, something I return to often. Presence and power are never neutral, especially when we’ve had to fight for one without being granted the other.
What’s unfolding here between us is the kind of exchange I value most—not performance, not posturing, but mutual reflection. Thank you for being here in it with me.
Jay, I just finished my second listening to your wise descriptions of forms of power, how to recognize them, and ways to interact so well and to change the course. These are so valuable and amazing. Your comparison of the rock still standing is beautiful, and your examples are ones I will listen to still again!
I marvel at all you have learned and share. What a treasure! Thank you so much!
JP4M I am so glad my words are of value to you and you find them helpful. That means so much to me. And please ask if something is still not clear enough. There is so much more insight below that.
When power meets resistance, it does not always overpower—it reshapes, it shifts, it reveals. Wow, lovely.
This piece also speaks to me, as I know it will touch the heart of anyone who's been othered by the systems that oppress. I agree with Kendall--it still feels a little scary to speak truth, claim boundaries, and allow the discomfort to dissolve into the silence. And yet, I am continually reminded that the resistance not only reshapes, shifts and reveals more of me, but it invites me to be an unencumbered spirit that can't be controlled.
Oh, how I still resist that invitation, at times.
Yet, when I'm present to that resistance and if I am brave enough to ask myself, "who am I, when there is nothing to oppress?, nothing to contain?, nothing to protect?, nothing to silence?" And if I'm curious enough to look inside for the answer, it often leads me to a placeless place where I find compassion...for me, for us, yes, even for them. I can see how we've all been collectively duped into believing we've ever been anything but free.
And that revelation, even today, sometimes leads me to the scariest question of all--what am I prepared and willing to do to honor that gift of freedom?
May we all reach deep for answers, as you so beautifully model in this piece.
Susan, that question—"who am I, when there is nothing to oppress, nothing to contain, nothing to protect, nothing to silence?"—holds weight. The process of learning to speak, to set boundaries, to understand the power of words—it wasn’t overnight for me either. It was long, steady, and often tedious, like learning a new language from scratch.
I didn’t know communication could be like this, that it could take shape in ways that harm or heal so precisely. The power dynamics behind words, the way they are used to uphold or dismantle—none of this was truly visible to me before I started the work. And now, I see it everywhere.
You name resistance as something that doesn’t just push back—it reshapes, shifts, and reveals. I see that. And yet, stepping into that space where nothing holds us back anymore—where the weight of silence is no longer a shield—comes with its own unknowns.
That’s why I’ll be sharing more about this, about what I learned and how I learned it. Because understanding communication, truly seeing it for what it *does* rather than what we *think* it does, changes everything. Maybe some of what I’ve uncovered will help you understand your own patterns and those of the people around you. Maybe it will reveal something entirely new. I hope you as well as other will walk alongside me as I share what I learned in a hopefully relatable way and open up the conversation, the true dialog about it.
Lorraine, that realization—that reclamation happens in small moments, not in one dramatic act—is everything. It’s in the pauses, the questions, the refusals to shrink. Those choices, repeated over time, shift everything.
And yes, there’s undeniable strength in numbers, especially when those numbers reflect a range of experiences and perspectives. When diverse voices come together, the power dynamics that once felt unshakable start to loosen.
What clarity here and very well articulated! A lot of growth, experience and self-awareness are expressed in this post. I read it first and paused while listening to it to comment. I intend to copy it and use as reference going forward for the wisdom and direction it provides, thank you for sharing. I want to add, at some exposure to myself that I’ve been on both sides of the equation you express her so eloquently. Having grown up in a male dominated environment I certainly learned the submissive aspect, however, as a human animal, I also learned to mimic and it has taken me years to learn that in some relationships I was defaulting to the ‘power over’ position unconsciously. I certainly didn’t identify it as such I was just ‘being myself’ but that self when compared to others less assertive than I was meant they were experiencing a kind of oppression, or at very least discomfort.
To be honest I was horrified when I realized it, but to my shame it took decades. Even now, after reading your post and looking through that lens of clarity I immediately recognized a situation I was in yesterday where I represented some of those more ‘controlling’ behaviors. I didn’t consciously seek power but when I reflect on it I was certainly manifesting it. And I can see now it didn’t give my less assertive friend the room she needs to feel comfortable expressing herself.
In a way, confidence, power, the ability to manipulate our environment, or even being unusually articulate can automatically make me someone that can easily overpower another who may not have developed those abilities. It seems with growth comes a need for an equal amount of humility. If I have failed anywhere with consistency, it would be there. I don’t know that I ever saw humility displayed growing up. That was considered more of an aberration than a virtue.
So if I offer anything here by way of response to your post (in addition to gratitude and appreciation for your perspective so well presented) it is that in any situation we may find ourselves, depending on who we are with, we could be playing either role because there will always be those more or less developed in any given capacity to our own and our only real safeguard would be to be sensitive to that. In other words if I figure out someone is more reticent I back off and give them space. If I discover someone whose abilities are more on par with my own I go ahead and play with gusto. I guess we need to learn to read the room so to speak and adjust accordingly out of sensitivity to others to assure more genuine connection by way of that sensitivity.
With that said, another thought that presents itself is what do we really want in any given interaction? In some situations with people verbal sparring is fun and mutually enjoyed, for others that would be traumatizing. In some interactions delicate, deliberate and sensitive awareness may be called for. I’m sure a dozen people could imagine a dozen different scenarios by way of what is or could be exchanged with another. So maybe discernment becomes equal to humility when engaging each other.
Your post is rich with room for a lot of fascinating exploration into human interaction and what we seek from it and why. Thanks again! My goodness a person could get winded in a room with this much awareness blowing!😶🌫️😱🤭
L., I appreciate the depth of your reflection and the way you hold yourself accountable in real-time. Seeing both sides—the ways we’ve been shaped by power dynamics and the ways we might unconsciously wield them—isn’t easy. Yet it opens the door to something beyond awareness—active choice.
Confidence, articulation, presence—these are not neutral in interactions. They shape the space just as much as reticence does. It’s not always about intent, yet impact is real. Sensitivity, then, isn’t about caution or self-diminishing; it’s about recognizing the space we take up and the effect of our words, adjusting not out of obligation but out of clarity.
Where I see it differently is in the idea that verbal sparring can be fun for some and traumatizing for others. Sparring, by definition, is a contest—an interaction where winning is embedded in the structure. Even in play, it holds an adversarial quality. For it to work, both participants must agree to the same rules and be equally prepared for the engagement. Without that explicit agreement, it turns into something else—one person leading, the other forced into reaction.
This is where communication can shift from connection to positioning. The moment an exchange prioritizes sharpness, defensiveness, or maneuvering over shared understanding, it moves into contest rather than dialogue.
And in a contest, power moves over rather than with.
Sparring vs. Debate vs. Dialogue
Sparring assumes a level of play, yet the nature of play itself depends on consent and shared capability. One person may see it as a lively exchange, while the other experiences it as a push to keep up, a test rather than an exploration.
Debate, by contrast, can be structured as an exchange of ideas where both sides present perspectives with the intent of sharpening understanding rather than overpowering. Power can be shared in debate when the goal is not to win but to refine perspectives, expose different angles, and engage in a layered exploration. Agreement to disagree is possible here because it is built into the structure of the exchange.
Dialogue is something else entirely. It is not about positioning but about presence. It holds space for complexity without needing to resolve, convince, or outperform. The moment a conversation shifts toward strategic maneuvering, dialogue dissolves, and what remains is an interaction shaped by power over rather than power with.
The issue with sparring is that it assumes a shared playfulness that may not exist for both people. What one perceives as energetic exchange, another might experience as pressure, a demand to keep pace, or even a form of control. And because power dynamics are not always explicitly named, the impact of a communication style isn’t always clear until discomfort surfaces.
Power with allows both voices to remain present.
Power to supports the growth of each voice without diminishing the other.
Power over disrupts connection by shifting the goal from understanding to winning, from exchange to positioning.
Your last question—what do we really want in any given interaction?—cuts to the core. If the goal is to be seen, to understand and be understood, then awareness isn’t an afterthought; it’s the foundation. Connection requires clarity, presence, and a willingness to engage without the need to land a point. When positioning takes over, communication becomes something else entirely.
You have shared a lot of thought here with many intriguing places to investigate but the one that stood out to me that I’ve thought about the last few days is that of sparring. I was remembering many years (as in decades) ago I had the privilege of working with people that enjoyed a good hearty verbal debate of ideas and we would spend hours, sometimes into the wee early morning ones talking politics or philosophy or spirituality and generally enjoying each others company in a most animated way. I was in a community then and we had a woman living with us that was very, very shy and clearly had some emotional issues she struggled with but we respected her and allowed her her space. She literally spent all her time in her room when she wasn’t working and would eat there as well. But every now and again when we were all being lively in the living room in some mutually enjoyable conversation she would venture forth to join in. That always meant a lot to us because it meant she was trusting herself and us in order to do that.
I mention this because it makes me think of wrestling gyms, there are some coaches that set up sparring to be terribly competitive and then there are coaches that make sparring not a contest but put much more emphasis on the learning and the strength building of the exercises while putting emphasis on fun and I thought about what a difference it makes, the spirit of a group or interaction.
Some groups are competitive and if one joins in one definitely feels one needs to take a position and try and hold it. But some groups, like the one I was fortunate to be part of those many years ago wasn’t about competition. We were living in an intentional community through the Mennonite church and there was a strong sense of care and trust, give and take, fun and responsibility in a balanced measure that made ‘sparring’ while we exercised our innate need to find ourselves at that age, engaging and nonthreatening even as it was delightfully challenging.
The point I guess for me is thinking about that spirit and how to encourage it when with others. I miss it and haven’t felt anything like it for years and am wondering why it is getting so much harder to experience that sort of thing in a public setting. I wonder if there is a way to encourage that? I don’t know. Maybe entering into dialog without an agenda would help. I haven’t thought about that group and the delightful spirit it provided in years even as it was challenging because living with 20 people does offer challenge, (there were six in the house I was in) but it was also a lot of fun and how we challenged each other led much more toward mutual growth, as well as individual introspection, than tension - though that certainly happened too.
Lately, for me, I keep coming back to the question of what is the point of human interaction? Why are we here? What are we really doing when we engage each other? I’m not sure we always know and so we’re somewhat awkward in our ‘social dancing’. The people I tend to admire are the ones that find a way to create that spirit of fun or camaraderie, or relaxed focus. That’s a real gift - to be able to affect the spirit of a group towards something wholesome, encouraging, challenging without tension, creative without chaos, thought provoking without the negative self-doubt. Anyway… your comments made me think a lot about the general spirit of a group or social encounter and how, if by any means, one might affect that positively.
L., I appreciate how you bring attention to the spirit of a group—how it can create an open, engaging space or turn into something that forces people into rigid positions. The way a conversation is held determines whether it allows for trust, curiosity, and growth or becomes a contest where winning takes precedence over understanding.
Your story about the woman in your community captures this beautifully. She wasn’t pushed to engage, yet she felt safe enough to step forward on her own terms. That trust wasn’t built through words alone but through the way the group held space—without pressure, without demand. That kind of presence shifts everything. It’s the difference between a space that allows for real connection and one that expects participation on predefined terms.
I think a lot about the structures within communication—the differences between dialogue, debate, and conversation. Verbal sparring can be immensely helpful when the rules are clear, when everyone involved understands that it’s about sharpening thought rather than defeating an opponent. But when debate shifts into something meant to make the other side lose at any cost, the conversation stops being about the topic. It becomes about power. And that’s where communication barriers come in—the very ones I wrote about yesterday. When the goal is to “win,” listening disappears, curiosity fades, and interaction becomes more about strategy than exchange.
Your reflections on why these spaces feel harder to find now stay with me. Maybe it’s the way public discourse has shifted. Maybe it’s the increasing pressure to have a stance rather than a perspective. Yet I believe that fostering spaces of true engagement is still possible. It happens in the quiet trust of a shared moment, in the freedom to explore rather than defend, in the presence of those who create room for thought to unfold without force. That’s not just a skill—it’s an intention. And one worth holding onto.
This one resonates with me so deeply because (as you know) I’ve also struggled with a relationship my entire life where I learned to do just this: anticipate reactions and adjust my tone and defer and become strategic with my silences. It wasn’t until I became direct and extremely clear with my boundaries in my communication that I began to feel free; but make no mistake, this felt terrifying in my body at first. I was conditioned to believe that pushing back, or not playing by the rules of the game, might put me in actual danger. But that’s the lie- and this essay explains this so well. Power does not need to use violence to control when it can, instead, use conditioning. But conditioning can be resisted, and self-agency can be reclaimed. Thank you, Jay, for your wisdom and for this message.
Kendall, you put it so clearly—how power doesn’t always need force when conditioning does the job just as well. And breaking out of that conditioning? Terrifying at first, because the body remembers. It holds the old rules, the unspoken threats, the ways we learned to stay small to stay safe.
And yet, there’s that moment when clarity cuts through. When setting a boundary isn’t just an idea but an action, a line drawn that says, *I am here, and I am not asking for permission to be.* That’s not just freedom—that’s reclaiming yourself.
I see that in your words, in your journey. And I’m grateful we get to have this conversation.
I resonated so much with this one, Jay! I don’t speak unless I am sure I know what I am talking about, and can provide references if pressed. I have been sidelined, ignored, and diminished too many times because something I said was unpopular, incorrect, or even PERCEIVED as incorrect.
My ex-husband liked to derail my train of thought if he didn’t like my point of view, by calling my vocabulary into question. Mind you, my grasp of the English language is stronger than his; but that never stopped him from interrupting me and arguing that I was using the incorrect word for a subject. Once after he did that, I looked the word up and tried to show him the definition, which supported my usage. He showed his true self and intention when he responded, “I don’t need your fucking dictionary definitions!” As absurd as this is, he is not the first person to attempt to shut me up in this way. After decades of experiencing this type of verbal sabotage, I find I really struggle to speak aloud, and sometimes even write. It just feels like an insurmountable challenge to have my thoughts, feelings, and opinions be heard. I often opt out, because it doesn’t seem worth the trouble.
@Jules , I hear you. Having your words dismissed, twisted, or outright ignored over and over takes its toll. It’s exhausting, disheartening, and makes silence feel like the safer option. That kind of verbal sabotage—especially from someone who claimed to care about you—leaves scars. It’s not just about the interruptions or the gaslighting; it’s about what happens inside when your voice gets chipped away like that.
You deserve to speak without needing to prove yourself at every turn. Your thoughts, your knowledge, your way of expressing things—they have value, period. You don’t owe anyone a constant justification for existing in conversation.
The weight of all those years of being sidelined won’t just vanish overnight, and I won’t throw empty encouragement at you. And still, I hope there are moments—big or small—where your voice rises, not for anyone’s approval, not for the sake of being "right," but simply because it belongs to you.
Thanks Jay 🖤. You created a space here where I felt comfortable sharing that, and you just validated the trust you already built in me. Reading your reply brought happy tears to my eyes, and I am so grateful to have a space where I felt comfortable opening up a bit.
I’m realizing that all the ideas floating around in my head for my own blog have probably been congested there by this feeling that it’s both difficult and pointless to share them.
Perhaps taking little steps, like sharing this here, will lead me to feeling more confident in sharing longer pieces more often. Thank you again for providing this space. I genuinely feel like light is seeping in through the cracks.
Jules, that means a lot. You opened up, let those words out, and they landed exactly as they should—heard, valued, and held. That’s no small thing.
If this space helped you take that step, then it’s already done something real. And you’re right—sharing in small ways, letting the words move from inside to out, can loosen what’s been stuck. It’s not about forcing it or proving anything. Just about letting your voice exist where it belongs.
I’d love to read whatever comes next, whenever it does. No pressure, just possibility. And if light is seeping in, then maybe, just maybe, the walls weren’t as solid as they seemed. You know, I have lived in a four times fortified fortress walking around in it in a space suit just 5 years ago.... ✨🖤✨
Hey Jules, you may feel like a kitten in a world of lions but I promise I won’t pounce! However…as you get stronger you may enjoy some vigorous play time! I encourage you to exercise your less dominant muscles…you may have a roar in you yet!🦁
L., I appreciate the sentiment, and I’d say Jules has already shown strength—just in a different form. Strength isn’t just about roaring; sometimes, it’s in the quiet persistence, in speaking even when it feels impossible, in showing up at all. That’s its own kind of power.
Jules, wherever you take this next, however your voice grows, it’s already yours. And that’s what matters most. 🖤✨
Thank you for the encouragement, Jay! I am very glad to have met you here on Substack.
I believe you’ve recycled the building materials from your 4x fortified fortress into an incredibly sturdy and welcoming bridge. Experiencing your example helps me believe the same is possible for me, and I’d very much like to do the same; both for myself, and for all I interact with going forward. One little step at a time.
Jules, that’s a beautiful way to put it. That fortress had its purpose once—it kept me alive. And yet, at some point, I realized I wasn’t living inside it, just surviving. Rebuilding it into something open, something that connects instead of isolates, has been its own kind of unlearning.
If my example helps you see that possibility for yourself, then that’s already part of the bridge you’re building. One step, one word, one choice at a time—it all counts. And I have no doubt that what you create will be both strong and welcoming, just like you. ✨🖤✨
Megan, that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? Refusing to be worn down, refusing to shrink, refusing to let the world chip away at what is whole and true within us. That’s the kind of yes that matters.
Thank you @Diane’s Blue Forum 👩💻 for amplifying my words.
This is so well said!!! Thank You
I am glad you found something to take from my essay. Thank you for telling me so. i appreciate you, very much.
Jay, you offer much valuable thought for consideration, and I can see that it can fit various situations. I plan to listen again another time still, and I am happy for you and all that you have learned and are sharing.
JP, I appreciate that. Reflection takes time, and I respect the way you’re letting the words settle. If anything in my writing sparks something new or resonates differently when you revisit it, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for taking the time to engage with it.
Jay,
Your message about power structures reminds me that, when I was training to become a counselor, I learned about the importance of maintaining the awareness that I was the counselor and the other person was my client. Meaning: be careful with the power handed to you. Tread with sensitivity and care. Do not "other" the person sitting with you.
As you said, there is always a power dynamic at play in conversations. Now that I no longer practice counseling, I still try to tuck that in the back of my mind. For most of my life, I was not given a voice, much as you stated here. So when I started using my voice, it was LOUD. And I interrupted everyone! Finally, I was heard!
And now that I am in my mid-forties, I know the wisdom of toning it down, of listening, of entering into the other person's experience rather than trying to sate the edge of restlessness from my own insecurities. I do not always get this right or do this well, but it is something I revisit often in my own personal reflections.
Jeannie, thank you for your words and for sharing this part of your own journey.
What you named about the early urge to speak loudly, even to interrupt, speaks so honestly to the hunger to exist in a world that once silenced us. I’ve felt that too—like finally breaking the surface after being held underwater.
And yes, the shift toward listening… not as a surrender, but as a reclaiming of power that doesn't need to dominate to be real. There's grace in that. And it takes courage to keep revisiting the tension between presence and power, voice and silence, especially when our history has taught us to fight just to be heard.
I’m grateful we’re in this reflection together—learning not just how to speak, but how to be with each other. That’s where the transformation begins.
"Revisiting the tension between presence and power" sounds like a line from a poem, Jay.
There's a pulse of poetry beneath this conversation. What an honor to be part of it. Thank you for opening up space for that. ❤️
Jeannie, that means a lot. I didn’t write that line to be poetic—it came from lived tension, something I return to often. Presence and power are never neutral, especially when we’ve had to fight for one without being granted the other.
What’s unfolding here between us is the kind of exchange I value most—not performance, not posturing, but mutual reflection. Thank you for being here in it with me.
Jay, I just finished my second listening to your wise descriptions of forms of power, how to recognize them, and ways to interact so well and to change the course. These are so valuable and amazing. Your comparison of the rock still standing is beautiful, and your examples are ones I will listen to still again!
I marvel at all you have learned and share. What a treasure! Thank you so much!
JP4M I am so glad my words are of value to you and you find them helpful. That means so much to me. And please ask if something is still not clear enough. There is so much more insight below that.
So agree!
Roar!
Thank You Becca, please roar on!
Jay, thank you!
When power meets resistance, it does not always overpower—it reshapes, it shifts, it reveals. Wow, lovely.
This piece also speaks to me, as I know it will touch the heart of anyone who's been othered by the systems that oppress. I agree with Kendall--it still feels a little scary to speak truth, claim boundaries, and allow the discomfort to dissolve into the silence. And yet, I am continually reminded that the resistance not only reshapes, shifts and reveals more of me, but it invites me to be an unencumbered spirit that can't be controlled.
Oh, how I still resist that invitation, at times.
Yet, when I'm present to that resistance and if I am brave enough to ask myself, "who am I, when there is nothing to oppress?, nothing to contain?, nothing to protect?, nothing to silence?" And if I'm curious enough to look inside for the answer, it often leads me to a placeless place where I find compassion...for me, for us, yes, even for them. I can see how we've all been collectively duped into believing we've ever been anything but free.
And that revelation, even today, sometimes leads me to the scariest question of all--what am I prepared and willing to do to honor that gift of freedom?
May we all reach deep for answers, as you so beautifully model in this piece.
With love,
Susan
Susan, that question—"who am I, when there is nothing to oppress, nothing to contain, nothing to protect, nothing to silence?"—holds weight. The process of learning to speak, to set boundaries, to understand the power of words—it wasn’t overnight for me either. It was long, steady, and often tedious, like learning a new language from scratch.
I didn’t know communication could be like this, that it could take shape in ways that harm or heal so precisely. The power dynamics behind words, the way they are used to uphold or dismantle—none of this was truly visible to me before I started the work. And now, I see it everywhere.
You name resistance as something that doesn’t just push back—it reshapes, shifts, and reveals. I see that. And yet, stepping into that space where nothing holds us back anymore—where the weight of silence is no longer a shield—comes with its own unknowns.
That’s why I’ll be sharing more about this, about what I learned and how I learned it. Because understanding communication, truly seeing it for what it *does* rather than what we *think* it does, changes everything. Maybe some of what I’ve uncovered will help you understand your own patterns and those of the people around you. Maybe it will reveal something entirely new. I hope you as well as other will walk alongside me as I share what I learned in a hopefully relatable way and open up the conversation, the true dialog about it.
Powerful guidance, thank you. In my professional career I also came to learn there is strength in numbers working with diverse communities.
"I didn’t wake up one day and suddenly reclaim my voice. It didn’t happen all at once.
It happened in a hundred small moments of refusal.
The first time I said, That’s not okay, and let the silence sit instead of rushing to soften
The first time I asked, Can you clarify what you mean? instead of immediately assuming I was wrong.
The first time I sat in discomfort rather than smoothing things over.
These weren’t grand acts of rebellion. They were acts of reclamation."
Lorraine, that realization—that reclamation happens in small moments, not in one dramatic act—is everything. It’s in the pauses, the questions, the refusals to shrink. Those choices, repeated over time, shift everything.
And yes, there’s undeniable strength in numbers, especially when those numbers reflect a range of experiences and perspectives. When diverse voices come together, the power dynamics that once felt unshakable start to loosen.
Appreciate you adding your voice to this.
What clarity here and very well articulated! A lot of growth, experience and self-awareness are expressed in this post. I read it first and paused while listening to it to comment. I intend to copy it and use as reference going forward for the wisdom and direction it provides, thank you for sharing. I want to add, at some exposure to myself that I’ve been on both sides of the equation you express her so eloquently. Having grown up in a male dominated environment I certainly learned the submissive aspect, however, as a human animal, I also learned to mimic and it has taken me years to learn that in some relationships I was defaulting to the ‘power over’ position unconsciously. I certainly didn’t identify it as such I was just ‘being myself’ but that self when compared to others less assertive than I was meant they were experiencing a kind of oppression, or at very least discomfort.
To be honest I was horrified when I realized it, but to my shame it took decades. Even now, after reading your post and looking through that lens of clarity I immediately recognized a situation I was in yesterday where I represented some of those more ‘controlling’ behaviors. I didn’t consciously seek power but when I reflect on it I was certainly manifesting it. And I can see now it didn’t give my less assertive friend the room she needs to feel comfortable expressing herself.
In a way, confidence, power, the ability to manipulate our environment, or even being unusually articulate can automatically make me someone that can easily overpower another who may not have developed those abilities. It seems with growth comes a need for an equal amount of humility. If I have failed anywhere with consistency, it would be there. I don’t know that I ever saw humility displayed growing up. That was considered more of an aberration than a virtue.
So if I offer anything here by way of response to your post (in addition to gratitude and appreciation for your perspective so well presented) it is that in any situation we may find ourselves, depending on who we are with, we could be playing either role because there will always be those more or less developed in any given capacity to our own and our only real safeguard would be to be sensitive to that. In other words if I figure out someone is more reticent I back off and give them space. If I discover someone whose abilities are more on par with my own I go ahead and play with gusto. I guess we need to learn to read the room so to speak and adjust accordingly out of sensitivity to others to assure more genuine connection by way of that sensitivity.
With that said, another thought that presents itself is what do we really want in any given interaction? In some situations with people verbal sparring is fun and mutually enjoyed, for others that would be traumatizing. In some interactions delicate, deliberate and sensitive awareness may be called for. I’m sure a dozen people could imagine a dozen different scenarios by way of what is or could be exchanged with another. So maybe discernment becomes equal to humility when engaging each other.
Your post is rich with room for a lot of fascinating exploration into human interaction and what we seek from it and why. Thanks again! My goodness a person could get winded in a room with this much awareness blowing!😶🌫️😱🤭
L., I appreciate the depth of your reflection and the way you hold yourself accountable in real-time. Seeing both sides—the ways we’ve been shaped by power dynamics and the ways we might unconsciously wield them—isn’t easy. Yet it opens the door to something beyond awareness—active choice.
Confidence, articulation, presence—these are not neutral in interactions. They shape the space just as much as reticence does. It’s not always about intent, yet impact is real. Sensitivity, then, isn’t about caution or self-diminishing; it’s about recognizing the space we take up and the effect of our words, adjusting not out of obligation but out of clarity.
Where I see it differently is in the idea that verbal sparring can be fun for some and traumatizing for others. Sparring, by definition, is a contest—an interaction where winning is embedded in the structure. Even in play, it holds an adversarial quality. For it to work, both participants must agree to the same rules and be equally prepared for the engagement. Without that explicit agreement, it turns into something else—one person leading, the other forced into reaction.
This is where communication can shift from connection to positioning. The moment an exchange prioritizes sharpness, defensiveness, or maneuvering over shared understanding, it moves into contest rather than dialogue.
And in a contest, power moves over rather than with.
Sparring vs. Debate vs. Dialogue
Sparring assumes a level of play, yet the nature of play itself depends on consent and shared capability. One person may see it as a lively exchange, while the other experiences it as a push to keep up, a test rather than an exploration.
Debate, by contrast, can be structured as an exchange of ideas where both sides present perspectives with the intent of sharpening understanding rather than overpowering. Power can be shared in debate when the goal is not to win but to refine perspectives, expose different angles, and engage in a layered exploration. Agreement to disagree is possible here because it is built into the structure of the exchange.
Dialogue is something else entirely. It is not about positioning but about presence. It holds space for complexity without needing to resolve, convince, or outperform. The moment a conversation shifts toward strategic maneuvering, dialogue dissolves, and what remains is an interaction shaped by power over rather than power with.
The issue with sparring is that it assumes a shared playfulness that may not exist for both people. What one perceives as energetic exchange, another might experience as pressure, a demand to keep pace, or even a form of control. And because power dynamics are not always explicitly named, the impact of a communication style isn’t always clear until discomfort surfaces.
Power with allows both voices to remain present.
Power to supports the growth of each voice without diminishing the other.
Power over disrupts connection by shifting the goal from understanding to winning, from exchange to positioning.
Your last question—what do we really want in any given interaction?—cuts to the core. If the goal is to be seen, to understand and be understood, then awareness isn’t an afterthought; it’s the foundation. Connection requires clarity, presence, and a willingness to engage without the need to land a point. When positioning takes over, communication becomes something else entirely.
You have shared a lot of thought here with many intriguing places to investigate but the one that stood out to me that I’ve thought about the last few days is that of sparring. I was remembering many years (as in decades) ago I had the privilege of working with people that enjoyed a good hearty verbal debate of ideas and we would spend hours, sometimes into the wee early morning ones talking politics or philosophy or spirituality and generally enjoying each others company in a most animated way. I was in a community then and we had a woman living with us that was very, very shy and clearly had some emotional issues she struggled with but we respected her and allowed her her space. She literally spent all her time in her room when she wasn’t working and would eat there as well. But every now and again when we were all being lively in the living room in some mutually enjoyable conversation she would venture forth to join in. That always meant a lot to us because it meant she was trusting herself and us in order to do that.
I mention this because it makes me think of wrestling gyms, there are some coaches that set up sparring to be terribly competitive and then there are coaches that make sparring not a contest but put much more emphasis on the learning and the strength building of the exercises while putting emphasis on fun and I thought about what a difference it makes, the spirit of a group or interaction.
Some groups are competitive and if one joins in one definitely feels one needs to take a position and try and hold it. But some groups, like the one I was fortunate to be part of those many years ago wasn’t about competition. We were living in an intentional community through the Mennonite church and there was a strong sense of care and trust, give and take, fun and responsibility in a balanced measure that made ‘sparring’ while we exercised our innate need to find ourselves at that age, engaging and nonthreatening even as it was delightfully challenging.
The point I guess for me is thinking about that spirit and how to encourage it when with others. I miss it and haven’t felt anything like it for years and am wondering why it is getting so much harder to experience that sort of thing in a public setting. I wonder if there is a way to encourage that? I don’t know. Maybe entering into dialog without an agenda would help. I haven’t thought about that group and the delightful spirit it provided in years even as it was challenging because living with 20 people does offer challenge, (there were six in the house I was in) but it was also a lot of fun and how we challenged each other led much more toward mutual growth, as well as individual introspection, than tension - though that certainly happened too.
Lately, for me, I keep coming back to the question of what is the point of human interaction? Why are we here? What are we really doing when we engage each other? I’m not sure we always know and so we’re somewhat awkward in our ‘social dancing’. The people I tend to admire are the ones that find a way to create that spirit of fun or camaraderie, or relaxed focus. That’s a real gift - to be able to affect the spirit of a group towards something wholesome, encouraging, challenging without tension, creative without chaos, thought provoking without the negative self-doubt. Anyway… your comments made me think a lot about the general spirit of a group or social encounter and how, if by any means, one might affect that positively.
L., I appreciate how you bring attention to the spirit of a group—how it can create an open, engaging space or turn into something that forces people into rigid positions. The way a conversation is held determines whether it allows for trust, curiosity, and growth or becomes a contest where winning takes precedence over understanding.
Your story about the woman in your community captures this beautifully. She wasn’t pushed to engage, yet she felt safe enough to step forward on her own terms. That trust wasn’t built through words alone but through the way the group held space—without pressure, without demand. That kind of presence shifts everything. It’s the difference between a space that allows for real connection and one that expects participation on predefined terms.
I think a lot about the structures within communication—the differences between dialogue, debate, and conversation. Verbal sparring can be immensely helpful when the rules are clear, when everyone involved understands that it’s about sharpening thought rather than defeating an opponent. But when debate shifts into something meant to make the other side lose at any cost, the conversation stops being about the topic. It becomes about power. And that’s where communication barriers come in—the very ones I wrote about yesterday. When the goal is to “win,” listening disappears, curiosity fades, and interaction becomes more about strategy than exchange.
Your reflections on why these spaces feel harder to find now stay with me. Maybe it’s the way public discourse has shifted. Maybe it’s the increasing pressure to have a stance rather than a perspective. Yet I believe that fostering spaces of true engagement is still possible. It happens in the quiet trust of a shared moment, in the freedom to explore rather than defend, in the presence of those who create room for thought to unfold without force. That’s not just a skill—it’s an intention. And one worth holding onto.
This one resonates with me so deeply because (as you know) I’ve also struggled with a relationship my entire life where I learned to do just this: anticipate reactions and adjust my tone and defer and become strategic with my silences. It wasn’t until I became direct and extremely clear with my boundaries in my communication that I began to feel free; but make no mistake, this felt terrifying in my body at first. I was conditioned to believe that pushing back, or not playing by the rules of the game, might put me in actual danger. But that’s the lie- and this essay explains this so well. Power does not need to use violence to control when it can, instead, use conditioning. But conditioning can be resisted, and self-agency can be reclaimed. Thank you, Jay, for your wisdom and for this message.
Kendall, you put it so clearly—how power doesn’t always need force when conditioning does the job just as well. And breaking out of that conditioning? Terrifying at first, because the body remembers. It holds the old rules, the unspoken threats, the ways we learned to stay small to stay safe.
And yet, there’s that moment when clarity cuts through. When setting a boundary isn’t just an idea but an action, a line drawn that says, *I am here, and I am not asking for permission to be.* That’s not just freedom—that’s reclaiming yourself.
I see that in your words, in your journey. And I’m grateful we get to have this conversation.
I resonated so much with this one, Jay! I don’t speak unless I am sure I know what I am talking about, and can provide references if pressed. I have been sidelined, ignored, and diminished too many times because something I said was unpopular, incorrect, or even PERCEIVED as incorrect.
My ex-husband liked to derail my train of thought if he didn’t like my point of view, by calling my vocabulary into question. Mind you, my grasp of the English language is stronger than his; but that never stopped him from interrupting me and arguing that I was using the incorrect word for a subject. Once after he did that, I looked the word up and tried to show him the definition, which supported my usage. He showed his true self and intention when he responded, “I don’t need your fucking dictionary definitions!” As absurd as this is, he is not the first person to attempt to shut me up in this way. After decades of experiencing this type of verbal sabotage, I find I really struggle to speak aloud, and sometimes even write. It just feels like an insurmountable challenge to have my thoughts, feelings, and opinions be heard. I often opt out, because it doesn’t seem worth the trouble.
@Jules , I hear you. Having your words dismissed, twisted, or outright ignored over and over takes its toll. It’s exhausting, disheartening, and makes silence feel like the safer option. That kind of verbal sabotage—especially from someone who claimed to care about you—leaves scars. It’s not just about the interruptions or the gaslighting; it’s about what happens inside when your voice gets chipped away like that.
You deserve to speak without needing to prove yourself at every turn. Your thoughts, your knowledge, your way of expressing things—they have value, period. You don’t owe anyone a constant justification for existing in conversation.
The weight of all those years of being sidelined won’t just vanish overnight, and I won’t throw empty encouragement at you. And still, I hope there are moments—big or small—where your voice rises, not for anyone’s approval, not for the sake of being "right," but simply because it belongs to you.
Thanks Jay 🖤. You created a space here where I felt comfortable sharing that, and you just validated the trust you already built in me. Reading your reply brought happy tears to my eyes, and I am so grateful to have a space where I felt comfortable opening up a bit.
I’m realizing that all the ideas floating around in my head for my own blog have probably been congested there by this feeling that it’s both difficult and pointless to share them.
Perhaps taking little steps, like sharing this here, will lead me to feeling more confident in sharing longer pieces more often. Thank you again for providing this space. I genuinely feel like light is seeping in through the cracks.
✨🖤✨
Jules, that means a lot. You opened up, let those words out, and they landed exactly as they should—heard, valued, and held. That’s no small thing.
If this space helped you take that step, then it’s already done something real. And you’re right—sharing in small ways, letting the words move from inside to out, can loosen what’s been stuck. It’s not about forcing it or proving anything. Just about letting your voice exist where it belongs.
I’d love to read whatever comes next, whenever it does. No pressure, just possibility. And if light is seeping in, then maybe, just maybe, the walls weren’t as solid as they seemed. You know, I have lived in a four times fortified fortress walking around in it in a space suit just 5 years ago.... ✨🖤✨
Hey Jules, you may feel like a kitten in a world of lions but I promise I won’t pounce! However…as you get stronger you may enjoy some vigorous play time! I encourage you to exercise your less dominant muscles…you may have a roar in you yet!🦁
Thanks L. 😸
L., I appreciate the sentiment, and I’d say Jules has already shown strength—just in a different form. Strength isn’t just about roaring; sometimes, it’s in the quiet persistence, in speaking even when it feels impossible, in showing up at all. That’s its own kind of power.
Jules, wherever you take this next, however your voice grows, it’s already yours. And that’s what matters most. 🖤✨
Thank you for the encouragement, Jay! I am very glad to have met you here on Substack.
I believe you’ve recycled the building materials from your 4x fortified fortress into an incredibly sturdy and welcoming bridge. Experiencing your example helps me believe the same is possible for me, and I’d very much like to do the same; both for myself, and for all I interact with going forward. One little step at a time.
Jules, that’s a beautiful way to put it. That fortress had its purpose once—it kept me alive. And yet, at some point, I realized I wasn’t living inside it, just surviving. Rebuilding it into something open, something that connects instead of isolates, has been its own kind of unlearning.
If my example helps you see that possibility for yourself, then that’s already part of the bridge you’re building. One step, one word, one choice at a time—it all counts. And I have no doubt that what you create will be both strong and welcoming, just like you. ✨🖤✨
Tears again! Happy ones. I am out of words. Thank you so much for this deeply healing conversation, Jay.
✨🖤✨
You had me at “when you refuse to be eroded!”
Megan, that’s the heart of it, isn’t it? Refusing to be worn down, refusing to shrink, refusing to let the world chip away at what is whole and true within us. That’s the kind of yes that matters.
Absolutely!