I was already a little nervous about my new job. I was sure I would meet new people and make friends I'd likely keep for a while. I picked a table in the lunch room and said hello to the person sitting there. As we made small-talk I mentioned that I had gotten married the previous year. "Oh congratulations!" he said, "What does your wife do?" I corrected him immediately—it was a harmless mistake. We said more about our families, where we lived; over the years we often stopped to chat whenever our paths crossed. I guess I could have considered it a microaggression then, but I don't. It was an assumption, a mistake. People make those and recover. But for whatever all that's worth, it's still a small moment I remember from my first day. Sometimes small moments foreshadow problems ahead. Thankfully, this time (and in this way), it didn't. Change one fact about me—who I had married (not a choice _I'd_ make, happy anniversary honey!)—and this story could be different. My new coworker knew I was married and assumed I was straight. If he had been right, he and I would already have something in common. I saw his question not as a slight against my marriage, but as an attempt to connect. He tried to bridge the gap between us using a commonality he assumed we shared. The conversation could have gone down a different path, too, if he asked his question in another way. It could have been a jumping-off point to reveal something true about myself, in a way I would choose to reveal it. ## when you assume... Assumptions can feel like a way to connect. They're a shortcut to understanding, especially if we guess right. But there's a risk associated with guessing wrong. I still make assumptions, of course. Sometimes I'm right. Sometimes I'm not. But a guess isn't given much appreciation even when you get it right. Guessing wrong risks denting the relationships we're trying to build. My story feels minor to me because I didn't experience that slight as part of a larger pattern. For some people, our innocent assumption is one in a series of folks getting that person's reality wrong. I worked at a restaurant in college. The night we met, the manager's wife told me that she hadn't said anything to me all shift because she thought I didn't speak English. Lots of people assume the gender of everyone they see on the street. We meet people who look like us and assume we share the same values, the same culture, the same beliefs. Zora Neale Hurston was fond of saying, "all skinfolk ain't kinfolk." As a social species, it's natural to want to find connection with the people around us. We can do that without expecting others to be the way we think they are. Assumptions can go beyond the things we say, and they can happen in many directions. We assume body language without seeking clarity. We believe that a project is going well without asking about it. We guess at intentions, at slights, at misinterpretations. We make decisions and come to conclusions without ever learning the real story. These can feel like necessary or even wise shortcuts. If we end up at the wrong destination, though, we might not even know. ## to know is better than to wonder is better than to conclude I've done a lot of work trying to unlearn the assumptions I make in my head. I accept my curiosity as natural. I also accept that I don't need to slake my curiosity with a guess—if a detail is relevant, that person may offer it. If we have some trust between us I can ask. Many people share details about their lives. Give them the space to share. Offer respectful curiosity. Think twice before telling that joke in mixed company (or any company, for some jokes). Instead of internalizing an offhand comment, approach with curiosity: something like, "what do you mean by that?" As a facilitator, I have to build trust in rooms of people I've never met. I don't always have time to get to each person at a high level of detail, but pronouns are essential to my work. During introductions, I ask people to share "the pronouns you'd like us to use for you." If I don't know, I may use a gender-neutral pronoun for someone; more often I'll just use their name. Also important: not needing to ask. We don't always need to know. Some folks don't like having to share their pronouns. Not everyone wants to explain to a stranger where they're from. I'm not owed anyone's life story. But plenty of people are willing to share. They could be offering real connection, and a chance to know someone a bit better. We don't know people's stories, not really. We can only imagine what it's like to be someone else, and we are often wrong. Despite the distance I still have to build those bridges. A world without those connections is one I don't want anyone to live in. My approach is to show respect and trust to the people I meet. Add a measure of genuine curiosity that reflects those two things. Chances are high that they'll share something that surprises me. Next week I'll be celebrating 10 years of marriage to my favorite person in the world! I'm taking a week off from _be the future_. We have a very special post planned for the following week. See you then. So You Might Join a Board..., written by Itai Jeffries and me, has a new home on Future Emergent. Itai and I wanted a friendly guide for joining or improving a board of directors. We wanted a book that was honest, funny, and informative—like asking a really knowledgeable friend. So we wrote it! We created this book especially for BIPOC, POGM, LGBTQIA+, and/or low-/no-income folks who are thinking about joining a board of directors, but the information inside is useful to pretty much everyone. We offer the book on a sliding scale so it'll never be out of reach. Get your copy now on the be the future store.

Seattle: Don't banish RV residents!