I’m both tolerant and judgmental.
Read John Douglas’s, The Anatomy of Motive for the backstory of crimes. It’s a captivating read as the original FBI behavioral analyst delves into the whys behind the criminals’ action. After reading it, I started to examine the actions of the (thankfully) non-criminals dominating my life—including my own conduct.
I love crossword puzzles, especially if the subject matter is something fun. Maybe trivia about the heyday of Hollywood—think Hepburn, Tracy, Bogart. Mostly I hate numbers but Sudoku keeps me on friendly terms with at least one through nine of them.
It’s fun to discern how inanimate objects work—like puzzle clues, and how diverse people click together and somehow work. I make snap assessments with a Jethro Gibbs (can Mark Harmon get any more handsome?) gut that is usually right. When I ignore my instincts, giving the benefit of the doubt when I shouldn’t, trouble of some degree usually follows.
Understanding people and what motivates us to do what we do is ceaselessly fascinating.
What if…
If I didn’t consider the backstory to my observations, then I was judging a solitary moment in their lives. I didn’t want to be the person who decides and reacts, perhaps causing misunderstanding or pain to someone else. I wanted to go deeper and confirm whether or not the Gibbs-gut was a true interpretation of the facts.
Instead of glaring at parents with the screaming kid in an expensive restaurant, thinking, “Get that kid out of here. You’re ruining everyone’s (that is, MY) meal!” I began looking at the parents’ faces. Sometimes their expressions told a story of parents not caring what their kid was doing or who it impacted. You know the parents. The ones who think their child is the center of everyone’s universe. If he wants to have a fit right now, well you should indulge their desires.
But this particular evening, sheer exhaustion was evident on the features of this couple, allowing me to build a backstory for them. Maybe their child had a physical problem that caused him to act out. Perhaps they were new in town and didn’t have any friends or relatives to give them support as parents of a troubled kid. Maybe I needed to smile at them instead of scowl and perhaps that would provide encouragement and they could find the strength to reach out and calm their child.
Those were possible narratives.
Sharing the Backstories of Ourselves
When we share our stories, our backgrounds, with each other, we have an opportunity to grow close as human beings. We gain understanding and empathy, lessening the distance between us and building common grounds.
In this time when social media leads us to believe people want to be polarized, to be opposite of one another, it takes effort for us to stop putting up walls and instead let us drop bridges over the moats that divide us.
HEADLINE: Black woman refuses to give up seat on bus to white man.
SURFACE STORY: This is pure obstinance in the face of the signs telling her what she has to do.
BACKSTORY: Forty-two year old Rosa Parks had worked her behind off during a long day in retail and had simply had enough of the inane prejudice of one skin color having more rights than another that day.
HEADLINE: Man has trailer stolen from hotel parking lot.
SURFACE STORY: So? It’s an easily replaced material item.
BACKSTORY: The Joe Stone Foundation camper trailer was heisted by some horrible people, stealing everything (including his catheters) this sky-diving paraplegic was using to make a documentary.
Backstories bring us together, beyond the skimming of headlines, beyond our casual observations.
Who will you learn about today when you make the conscious decision to delve beneath the surface of what you see?
What’s My Backstory
When someone asks me if my folks are alive, I answer, “No, my parents recently passed away.”
Typically the person will ask, “Oh, I’m sorry. When was that?
“Mom in August of 2008 and Dad a mere eight months later…” If the person is lucky enough to still have both their parents, I usually get an incredulous look from them—that number of years and I’m still saying “recently?” Without the full story: “Mom died from lung cancer and Dad from ALS,” they could think I was simply being overly dramatic. But adding on the details of why they died changes my listener’s perspective. They have a chance to step into my shoes and think about the tragedy of losing two parents to horrid illnesses within such a short time period. Ah … the light may dawn for them, “That’s why she said recent.”
And you?
Think about the missed opportunity that you had to open up one step further to someone you recently met. How would it have altered the interaction? How would it have changed what you took away from meeting them? Do you think they would have opened up even a little more if you had taken that first step? What could you have learned that would define them better in your memory and perhaps make you want to see them again?
The backstory each of us carry is worth sharing if you want to be known and understood, if you want to connect with others beneath the surface of your lives, if you want people to share a part of their special biography with you.
Our world might get a little kinder, a little softer, a little less biased if we take the time to dig into each other’s backstories. What do you think?
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Read: When to Apologize
Great post, RoseMary. Being a professional writer who has been delving into the stories of people I interview over the past 25+ years, I’m always intrigued by the backstory. It’s almost always more interesting than the obvious. What troubles me is when ‘friends’ don’t allow you to get past their public facade and when asked for the backstory (i.e. more info on an important issue), refuse to provide that info and get offended when asked for it. I’d rather have fewer friends than be surrounded by those who only want and need that superficial type of human interaction.
Thanks, Doreen. You are so right about the friends who won’t go deep with you. I feel the same way. I would rather have a few people I can have great conversations with than to have a great number of people I can only surface talk with.
I’m at the phase right now where I am still figuring out how to succinctly present myself to new people without giving them too much of an earful since sooooo much has happened in the past four years. This post brings to mind many former students. On the surface there would be an annoying, rude, or disrespectful behavior. I could reprimand for just that, but doing so never would get to the core issue. For instance, this one guy gave me a lot of attitude, but turns out he had to go home every night and take care of his three younger siblings while mom was at work. So it was no wonder why his homework never got done. Once we had a decent talk and I could be more understanding of his situation, he was much easier to be around in the classroom. Even better, he got a girlfriend who liked to do homework with him when they hung out 😉
That student is a great example of backstory, Jeri. The environments we hide from others can be just what they need to know in order to understand or be supportive.
With the ride you’ve been on, your “elevator speech” introduction could be quite something!