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