This is how I got the courage to ask total strangers for their signatures.
I was trying to start an atheist/non-religious club at my school, Umpqua Community College, last spring, and the first day I tried to gather signatures, I was very timid, and only got one or two. (No, none of the shooting victims from last October signed my petition for the atheist club, in case anyone was wondering. I do remember seeing some of the victims around the school, though.) I didn't end up starting this club, since I realized that LGBTQ issues were more important to me anyway, but I did pick up a valuable new skill.
I knew that if I had a lot of practice, I would not be timid anymore, so I "practiced." I simply said, over and over in my head, "Would you like to sign a petition for a new student club?" (Since I was very good at saying "Hi," already, and wouldn't need to practice that in order to say it first.)
The idea came to me as I was lying in bed, and I did this whenever my thoughts weren't distracted. The repetition was very comforting after a while.
By the time I was drifting off to sleep, I was thinking things like, "Would you be interested in signing a position for a new stupid club?"
The next day, I drove down to the school, though I had no classes, to get signatures. I practiced constantly in the car, over and over again. But I had the windows down on the freeway, and as soon as I got off and the noise died down, I was just as nervous as before, because my voice was louder, and alone, in my ears. I kept saying it, though my nerves weren't getting any better.
It was a Friday, and so the school was nearly deserted. But I determined to ask the first person I saw--who wasn't wearing a name tag, and wasn't wearing a suit, and looked rather young so that they were definitely a student and not a faculty member, and wasn't in the smoking shelters, because I don't care for cigarette smoke.
I managed to ask two people. The first one, I asked after I had said hi, while she had her back to me and was turning away, which I thought was quite an accomplishment.
"Well, actually, I am religious," she said after my "pitch."
"Oh, okay, thanks anyway," I said, sure I wasn't going to convince someone who was afraid of signing their soul away.
The second person smiled and informed me that she wasn't a student. "Oh, I'm sorry," I laughed, "you must look young!" I shrugged.
"Oh, thank you!" she answered.
I didn't really have an opportunity to ask any more people, though the day was not wasted: I visited two people that I had met at the Safe Space Workshop for LGBTQ allies only a few days before, that had offered to help me both with my new club and on behalf of the Gay-Straight Alliance Club.
I was a little worried that my newfound enthusiasm and confidence would be gone by next week, and told myself the following Tuesday that I just needed to get one more signature that day. Just one, and then I would worry about getting another--if I was up to it. I practiced in the car, and in my head as I walked to the library yet again. I was so scared of my own weakness.
Well, I got eight signatures that day! About half the people I asked signed my petition, and the reactions I got varied widely.
The first person I asked talked in a typical "spiritual" tone and loved the idea, talking about being fascinated by other people's points of view.
"I know, I try to see all sides of things, too," I said, trying to explain that I was the same way--mostly.
"That's what comparative religion is all about," he intoned.
"Yes, I think that...I think there's some truth in almost all belief systems," I answered, though I didn't necessarily think that they were all right about God or even morals.
"I hope you get enough signatures," he said.
"Thank you so much," I smiled.
A few people didn't seem to be atheist or religious, but had no problem signing it. "Of course, signing it doesn't mean that you are an atheist," I made conversation while one girl signed it.
"Oh, yeah," she laughed.
"Yeah, that would be kind of a horrible thing to do to people!" I laughed, trying to make conversation but often feeling like I didn't know what to say, "making them sign a loyalty oath!"
The most common response was, "What kind of club?"
My typical answer was, "Well, it's kind of a support group, actually," then explaining that it was mostly for those who aren't really religious, or have doubts, but have friends and family that are religious--but that all are welcome if they're friendly and respectful, of course.
One girl, when told about the club, shook her head, smiling nervously, and said, "No, thank you!"
"Oh, okay," I said, waving my hand dismissively (though not dismissive of her), "Thanks anyway."
"Atheists?" one guy asked. "Okay."
He was willing to sign, but didn't seem to understand why having religious family would be hard on some people. "Just, if they're concerned for them, and how do you balance trying to make them feel better, with being yourself..." I explained.
"Oh, okay," he said.
One guy, when told of the club, laughed quietly, rather like a lunatic or movie villain, in my opinion, and walked away, looking at me like I was crazy. A small part of me was hurt and didn't want to be treated that way, but I was rather glad that the (by now) creepy guy didn't stick around to talk.
I must admit that I did wear a very feminine, lacy short dress as a top with pants, sat on the bench outside of the men's room (there was more traffic there--honest!), put on some lipstick, and smiled at any boy who walked by and made eye contact with me. I smoothed my top and tried to be subtly flirty as they were signing it. I don't consider it to be deceptive, though, because I do like guys.
But there was one person I felt completely flustered to interact with, and rather too shy to ask. That person was actually a girl.
She was very bold about saying hi to me, both coming in and going out, and though I had no problem talking to her, I couldn't bring myself to ask--I seemed unable because of my shyness. I had been around bisexual girls enough to know that she was probably flirting with me, herself probably bi or lesbian. Something in her manner said that that was more than just being friendly.
I had had years of practice talking to boys...but not to girls. The thought was scary, especially with her very bold manner. It was scary because a part of me wanted to talk to her, a part of me that I am not very familiar with, still, and have only been aware of for a short time. Though I don't feel negatively about it, I still feel emotional and confused about it. This may take some time to get used to, for me.
My last signature I didn't even ask for. Another girl walked in, stopped, looked right at me, saw my clipboard, and asked, "Do you have something to sign?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm collecting signatures for a new student club."
"Cool," she said, reaching for it. A little taken aback, I repeated my explanation and thanked her as she signed her name.
"See ya," she said as she went into the library to study.
She had acted like she was expecting to see me and my clipboard there. I wondered if anyone had said something to her. Apparently I was getting a rep.
I did get enough signatures, and after only a few days more of this! And I now had the courage, because I had asked that same question hundreds of different times. The repetitive technique of saying it over and over again in my mind has served me well in other areas too, for example boosting my self-esteem when I feel bad about myself (not guilty, but bad for no reason). Once you get in the habit of saying something to yourself, repetitively, the skill doesn't go away, and that's a great thing! :)
No comments:
Post a Comment