Clubs

Over the past few years I've come to understand the origin and purpose of clubs.

There are official clubs, ones with names that make you ponder the thought process that determined the name.  These clubs have special and restrictive membership criteria; you must be approved by a supermajority of the membership to be admitted.  The club's stated purpose is to help those less fortunate, read those not fortunate enough to be admitted to membership.  Secrecy is their cloak and exclusivity their scepter. 

There are unofficial clubs that require singularity of thought.  If you think like me and believe whatever I say, you can be a member of my club.

Another unofficial club requires that you be like me to become a member of this exclusive club.  No wiggle room here.  If I've done something then you must do what I do to be a member of my club.  

These are the clubs Groucho Marx had in mind when he coined the phrase, "I have half a mind to join a club and beat you over the head with it."

Ignoring, or worse, marginalizing those who don't believe that clubs should define them, is wrong for a multitude of reasons.  Nobody has the franchise on right and nobody should be in a position to be less than supportive of others.  Sure, you may need to live a certain way or crave recognition as somebody special.  That wasn't meant to provide a means to raise ourselves to lofty heights while treading upon others to reach that self-aggrandizing goal.

I don't consider myself a member of any club except the Human Race Club, the Human Beings Club and the Endowed by Our Creator With Certain Unalienable Rights club.  Everyone, regardless of age, race, gender, gender identity, sexual preference, socioeconomic status, weight, height, education, professional position, marital status, geographic location, etc., are members of these three clubs.

In the immortal words of Groucho, adapted for this writing, "I refuse to join [any other] club that would have me as a member."

And adding icing to the message, WC Fields said, "It ain't what they call you, it's what you answer to."

I don't partake in religious debate or political debate.  These debates utilize opinion as the sword and conviction the shield.  People are entitled to their opinion.  Trying to change a person's opinion is like trying to push a rope up hill.  If the irrefutable fact isn't available or doesn't exist, then allow a person's opinion to be their prized possession.  If you think your education, societal status, position on the board of some organization gives you license to club someone with your opinion, you should really take stock of who you are.  Try to find yourself in the mirror of life.  You're in there among the multitude, one of many and not as important as you think you are.

If we live and let live, the world will be a better place.  Are you a person whose goal is to better the world, or only better yourself....  Where's that mirror?

(c) 2017 Nikki DiCaro - All Rights Reserved 

Hubris

When hubris pours from incessant rants, readers recognize it while the person ranting is fanning embers of discrimination, bigotry and prejudice (Three Societal Evils). Most don't respond. Responding to hubris provides an air of credibility to the bigoted and prejudiced ranting.
I find it humorous when the person ranting receives comments that don't align with their discrimination, bigotry and prejudice. They attempt to justify their societal evils by insisting such people with opposing views are clueless. 
 Express your oppressive, narrow and damaging perspective if you must. Don't be incensed when people see through your feeble attempts to justify evil.
Either respect opposing comments or stop spewing. Freedom of Speech is the right of everyone. There are no delimiters that say those with ivory tower educations, wealth and privilege have more rights than those who don't fall to such level of self-aggrandizement.
Even the wicked profess their goodness. That doesn't make evil commendable.

(c) 2017 Nikki DiCaro - All Rights Reserved

Doing the Right Thing

It doesn't take much to do the right thing. The critical component of the "right thing" is realizing there is a living and breathing person on the receiving end of words or actions. When we, as a purportedly civilized society, decide that the "right thing" is selfishly what's right for "number 1" without regard for all the other "numbers" in the population, we lose another kernel of civility and draw closer to the abyss of ruination. Notice how convenient and conspicuous the word "nation" becomes the tail and "ruin" becomes the "head".
Draw your conclusions but don't draw the emotional or intellectual blinds. You may miss a golden opportunity to make a meaningful contribution to reversing the slide that seems to be gaining precipitous momentum. - Nikki DiCaro

The Privilege of Accomplishment

The privilege of accomplishment carries commensurate responsibility to give back societally. If not sharing and supporting, why are we bestowed with successes? Success is not a flag of status to be waved in the face of those seeking guidance. Success should be a standard we bear with pride and humility to lead anyone who follows, towards the path of opportunity. Here's to everyone who seeks guidance and support from us - climb aboard the welcoming train. The fare requirement is that you take what you learn from life and share positively with others. - Nikki DiCaro

The Power of a Smile

I spoke recently at a strategy meeting for a client. After the inspiring and open sharing experience among the participants, I began working on Poems from the Heart - Volume 2. Volume 1 is available at amazon.com or through my website www.nikkidicaro.com.

Here's an excerpt from Volume 2:

The Power of a Smile

Sometimes it hard

When life leaves us scarred

But is it lasting

Or are we fasting

From the pleasures

That come in measures

Those little treasures

Do we avoid

The chance to be happy

And cry and be sappy

Because it’s too easy

To be light and breezy

Would you rather be queasy?

We love to complain

Hoping all that disdain

Will ease the pain

But why make it yours

To not use the oars

To paddle beyond

Where life isn’t fond

Start to make subtle change

And you’ll broaden your range

And it won’t feel strange

When you smile!

Copyright 2017 Nikki DiCaro - All Rights Reserved

Celebrating Diversity

Last night we celebrated a life event with a friend. We met at a restaurant in Virginia, on the outskirts of The District. The place was packed. The patrons ranged across the gender and nationality rainbow. As I observed the crowd I wondered how there could be such turmoil and upheaval over diversity and simultaneously this eclectic and diverse group could share common ground and enjoy each other along with the unconventional entertainment.

Make no mistake, the establishment broadcasts its unconditional embrace of diversity. Still, people came. The broadly diverse crowd expressed their diversity in every rainbow color imaginable. Still, people came. The entertainment was not Broadway content. Still, people came. And there was movement, conversation, dancing, laughter, food and drink. The atmosphere was electric with acceptance. It's times like these that stoke the embers of hope into the fire of resolve.

One of the takeaways from the evening was "The world can be a welcoming and inviting place if we live and let live, open our minds and hearts to the wonders of those unlike us yet so much like us in their humanity."

Let's get on with living and burying the hatchet of hatred deep in the ground in an unmarked grave. Come share the beauty of life in all its colors and dimensions. Discovering the beauty of others will enhance the beauty in your heart.

Copyright 2017 DiCaro Consulting LLC - All Rights Reserved

Impressions First?

We make impressions on people.  What is an impression?  An indelible mark.. or is it a temporary image that fades over time?  Either choice can be positive, negative or inert.  First impressions, the phrase that is used to the point of nausea, bears visiting.  You will never get a second chance to make a first impression.  Just as true, "we may never get the opportunity to make a second impression if the first impression is offensive."

Nikki!  Welcome back. Remember me; the voice with the questions? Where are you taking us today?

Sit tight and follow along.  Yes, I know, offensive is in the eye of the offended.  We can't please all of the people all of the time.  That does not grant us poetic license to run roughshod over detractors.  One goal should be to connect with as many people as possible through positive first impressions, enabling opportunities for follow on impressions.  Walk away from incendiary encounters.  It's the most expeditious way of derailing grief, hard feelings and the scars inflicted by the caustic acid of vitriol.  This is how we win friends and influence people while protecting our inner core.  It may sound like glad-handing or pandering; retreating in the face of battle.  Far from it if you are sincere in your approach to relationships.  Maybe we can look at it this way:

We all want to make positive, lasting impressions.  That should be one of the overarching goals when we enter the life of another.  Unless we've got a fatalist streak and we embrace failure like a warm and welcoming blanket of insecurity, we don't want to leave negative impressions with people.  Those impressions, which have a long shelf life, a longer half-life than plutonium and can overwhelm or distort impressions left by others, identify us.  That's right.  Your first impressions can positively or negatively impact my ability to be viewed positively.

So this is all on me?

We all share responsibility for advancing society to accommodate the changing human ingredients in the melting pot that is the United States.  Who we are should be important to you.  It's important to me.  I want people to want to be around me.  I want to be welcoming and welcomed.  I want to bust the bias.  Yes, I know that's not always going to be the case.  You can't make people do what you want them to do all the time. But you can persuade, influence, guide, nudge, etc.  People respond better to soft emotional touch.  Show your good side always.  Never force feed anyone your views or beliefs.  Never discuss politics or religion - these are two ignition points for negativity.  People own their opinion.  People are entitled to their opinion.  Debate fact, not opinion.  Be flexible in your approach.  The coppery aftertaste of an unpleasant encounter will unduly influence even the heartiest of constitutions.

Be the voice of reason; the voice of unity; the epitome of common sense.  We will all benefit from it!

Copyright 2017 Nikki DiCaro - All Rights Reserved

The Laramie Project

Excerpted from Nikki's soon to be released rolling autobiography: "Transcendence - My Rebirth as a Woman"

I had the privilege to attend a play called The Laramie Project at Steel River Playhouse in Pottstown, PA. I had recently joined the board of directors of LGBT Equality Alliance, based in Chester County, PA. The board asked if I would sub for the organization’s founder at the showing and facilitate / moderate a talkback between the audience and the cast after the performance. The Laramie Project presented the life of Matthew Shepard, cut tragically short by his beating death; a hate crime for the sole reason he was an out and proud gay teen attending college in Laramie, Wyoming.

I had never heard of Matthew Shepard. He died in 1998 while I was steeped in my business career prior to the advent of the new century. I was given a complimentary ticket for agreeing to facilitate the talkback. When I entered the small theater, I was greeted warmly by a volunteer who asked my seat number. I had presumed seating was similar to a movie theater. I extracted the ticket from the right pocket of my mauve suede jacket and handed it over. She smiled, announced the seat row and number and pointed me in the right direction.

The row letters were written on labels and affixed inconsistently on the outer leg of the end seat. I was destined for row C and when I climbed to the third row I searched for seat numbers. There was one open seat at the end of the row. I looked across the row to count the seats. The soft eyes of a man seated to the left of the open seat beckoned me to ask, “What is your seat number?” He smiled and announced “nine.”

“Then this must be seat ten!” I smiled warmly and settled into the chair.

“What’s your name?” My theater buddy asked.

“I’m Nikki. Nikki, one “N”, two “K”s and two “I”s but no “C”. He offered his hand gently. I shook it.

“Nice to meet you Nikki. I’m Andrew.”

“Hello Andrew.” I paused. “What do you do for a living?” Old habits of stale ice breakers were difficult to lose.

“I work in Philadelphia.” I wasn’t sure if my question felt intrusive. Undeterred I continued. “Public sector or private?”

“The woman in row B turned and smiled. Andrew looked at her. Are we public or private?”

“Government,” she announced.

“Oh the third form.”

“Third?” He asked.

“Public, private and government,” I replied.

Andrew and his friend in row B smiled. “This is my new friend Nikki.” Andrew introduced me. I’m terrible with names and can’t recall the smiling woman’s name. She turned and contributed to our conversation. It was comfortable and later I learned it was destiny’s design that Row C Seat 10 was designated for me.

“Where do you live?” Another stock question from my inane repertoire of queries.

“Philadelphia.”

“Where in Philadelphia?” I was beginning to feel like I was probing in a sensitive area. Andrew answered and then asked the same of me.

“Centreville, Maryland.”

“Centreville?” He asked as if he knew this 1794 vintage enclave.

“Yes, do you know it?”

“I live in Chestertown. About four miles closer to you than the town.”

“Wow!” I thought of the possibilities that I would be placed in a seat next to someone three and one half hours north of home and a stone’s throw from mine. Coincidence? I think not. Given how my life has played out since my physical transition, there’s design. I’d expand by adding the word “intelligent” but that would spark debate and possibly castigation from intelligent design proponents. This we’ll save for another day and another time.

We exchanged contact information at intermission. As we enjoyed the performance I cried and Andrew seemed to feel my pain and empathize. He had seen the plot twice I believe yet was drawn to it yet again. Given what little I knew of my most recent friend, I presumed there was something deep and abiding in the message.

The performers (I wouldn’t consider them actors as they seemed to live the multiple parts each thespian was chosen to portray) delivered the message in character, depicting the response of each interviewee conducted during two trips to Laramie over a two-year period. I was visibly moved by the depth of conviction of each character’s presentation of the senseless loss of life of an eighteen-year-old college student for living his life true to his sexuality. He was robbed of the opportunity to flourish and continue to contribute to society by two young men who thought they would lure Matthew away and beat him into changing him to their narrow view of life.

Maybe there are those who would offer that the destructive duo went too far by killing Matthew. That would be blatantly wrong. They went too far by believing that might makes right and attacking a person, in any way, shape or form, is the appropriate human response to someone who is diverse. Justice was served (two young men adjudicated to prison for the remainder of their lives), albeit too late. One of the messages was remembrance. We must learn from tragedy and strive to never repeat it. The destruction of lives, Matthew’s and the two killers, their families, friends, the town of Laramie and anyone who was touched by the wanton disregard for human life, is never worth the lessons learned. It’s too late when we’re holding vigils, commemorations, remembrances, etc. We can’t undo what’s been done. We need to overcome the need to categorize, criticize, analyze, ostracize, victimize and every other negative “ize” that exists now and in the future.

Matthew’s tragically shortened life leaves us empty and robbed of the richness he would have added; as does any tragically shortened life. We have a tendency to become guarded, to nurture bias, to feel uncomfortable. These negative occurrences paint good people with the brush of generalization which further deepens divides, stifles healing, foments mistrust and fuels the potential for more hatred and destruction.

When will it end? Given the apparent lack of compassion, not soon enough.

(c) 2017 DiCaro Consulting LLC - All Rights Reserved

The Innocent Nightclub

The atmosphere was electric with anticipation. Music pulsed from hidden speakers, jarring the heart and vibrating the lungs. DJ churning fast-paced tunes; the dancers’ thirst unrequited. The dance floor undulated like anemone in the currents washing over a reef.  An occasional errant dancer bounced around as if the floor was glowing coals.  A typical Saturday evening at a local club brought together an eclectic gathering of revelers.  The bar was bustling; patrons double-parked, crowding the aisle between the restaurant and the piano bar.  In a separate room filled to capacity, the pianist played show tunes and patrons sang lustfully.

Dancers spilled out onto the veranda to cool overheated bodies. The typical weekend blowing off steam from the frustrations of the workweek was anything but typical.  Sitting in a rattan chair situated on the outskirts of the monolithic crowd I surveyed the activity.  Everyone was enjoying the evening without incident.  Men and women danced, together and in groups.  Everyone respected their tiny bastion of active space.  As bar patrons moved through the dance floor destined for the veranda, dancers parted kindly. This was a safe place; a place anyone could come to enjoy an evening of fun and conversation without incident.  No testosterone sprays; no overexposed bodies and no overt courting activities.  This was a place where the vocally endowed could showcase their capabilities before an admiring audience of friends and acquaintances.  A place where old friendships were rekindled and new friendships formed.

I like the place; frequented it. I felt safe. But was I?  I couldn’t help but wonder who else among this throng was casting a shadow of doubt. The thought of all of these defenseless people enjoying the evening oblivious to the risks made me wonder if my concern was futile.  It was definitely not misplaced.  Given the post-election polarization, it was as if a change in the political tide had awakened previously dormant hatred. The crowd control staff were more visible since the most recent nightclub attacks.  A security guard checked identification.  I think his presence was designed to calm any fears.  I wasn’t sure he’d be much of a deterrent against a determined terrorist; but was there really any way to stop a person who was willing sacrifice their future for the twisted belief that killing was not only noble but sacred?

Turning my thoughts away from wariness and back to the evening, I smiled at friends sharing the seating group.  The music drowned out any attempt at conversation.  Booth seating bordering the far end of the bar was perfect for conversation.  I made my way there to catch up with my besties.  My friends and I represent people of color, people of various nationalities and cultures, different preferences and identities, people expressing authenticity in the face of pockets of mounting bigotry, prejudice and discrimination.  We’re human and not really different from anyone outside our circles of friends.  People call us different, strange, unbelievable.  Yes, we’re not your grandfather’s generation, although we lived then, flying under the radar of public opinion.  We live, breathe, laugh, cry, celebrate and mourn.

Now, we’re no longer willing to subvert our authenticity for the sake of the minority.  Yes, it’s the minority that attempts to maintain the status quo; the gospel according to them.  We’re more than a compilation of unconventional.  We embody diversity and inclusion.  We’re the people that make diversity sing arias.  Lack of understanding and succumbing to biases and prejudice grease the skids of rejection, violence and hatred in the name of preserving the crumbling foundation of the old guard.  We fight for human rights because we’re human. We’re the people of the 21^st century.  Our activities, activism, advocacy, living in the open, all create opportunities for current and future generations to live in peace.  Consider the value of tearing down artificial emotional and intellectual walls that separate people.  Consider the wondrous opportunities to learn and teach.  Therein lies the opportunity; opportunities that present themselves every moment of every day.

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Nikki DiCaro is a freelance writer, advocate, speaker and trainer on unconditional equality, diversity and inclusion.  Her organization, DiCaro Consulting LLC, works with individuals and organizations to support diversity and inclusion.  You can find her at her website, on Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.