This is a love letter to the Scottish land itself. And to the power of poetry and place.

The Corbenic Poetry Path lies just a short distance outside of Dunkeld, the gateway to the Scottish Highlands. It is open to the public, and is curated – and cared for – by the amazing people who run the Corbenic Camphill Community, a residential care facility for adults with learning disabilities.

It is a path that winds through woodland, across a field, down to the river, and back up to the road again.. punctuated by small acts of poetry.

Sometimes, fresh and crisp and sometimes weathered and gently worn (not unlike me … and how I’ve changed over the nine years since I first came here).

Early in the walk, the poem “Field Holler” invites you to consider what it means to feel at home, in a place.

Field Holler

Today I stand in a field and shout

It is good to stand in a field and shout

To stand somewhere you can call your own

Somewhere you can find a place

Somewhere you can call home

And shout

Last week, this poem hit home different, for a few reasons.

First, in the intervening years, I’ve learned something about neurodiversity (ND), and also about masking* – the conscious modification of instinctive and natural ND behaviour in order to meet mainstream (non ND) expectations around social interaction – and in that journey, I’ve come to accept that we all “mask” in different ways.

And sometimes – like last week – what I’ve got deep inside me, is a shout.

These last few weeks, I’ve had lots of thoughts: Big thoughts. Angry thoughts. Afraid thoughts. Ashamed thoughts.

And instead of shouting, I have been mostly silent.

There are many different reasons why we choose to stay silent, but one very significant reason for people who sit further from power, privilege and social norms – is because speaking your truth (or being your true self) runs a greater risk of direct retaliation just for being you.

And by retaliation, I mean actual emotional or physical harm to individuals.

Today, in the UK (including Scotland) people are harmed, every day, simply because of who they are.**

This has always been true, but for years, we all agreed this was injustice, and it needed to end…now, unless we start making a radical change in how we respond, we can only expect more harm, for more people.

And the end point: everyone – without exception – loses something of themselves, and of the better part of their humanity.

So what’s the answer?

For me, it’s the same as always… (even as I need to remind myself):

Find your field – the place where you feel like you can really be you

Make your mark – shout, or dance, or write poetry, or just lie on your back, flat against the earth – claim your place, breathe deeply, remember that you belong

Bottle the magic – not sure why I have fireflies in mind (summer, childhood), but try to find ways of bringing back the goodness of being you in a place where you belong, to ground you, in your work to do the radical change

…

When you get back, here are some places you can start to make a difference in Scotland, today.

Get marching at the Scotland Demands Better rally on 25 October – a family-friendly rally against poverty, and for a future Scotland where every household can thrive and prosper

Join the Women Against the Far Right Scotland campaign – to make sure that women’s rights are never weaponised by the far right against migrants, and keep the focus on a safer Scotland for all women

Join Let’s Change the Act – the campaign to decriminalise abortion in Scotland and secure women’s reproductive rights

…

Thanks for dropping in again on The Long View – I hope I brought you something useful, and brightened (rather than burdened) your day!

Do you have a favourite “field” (either literal or figurative) where you go to do your shouting, and find your peace?

Would love to hear about that (or shout outs for other campaigns or actions that are about welcome, and not exclusion) in the comments!

* On masking, I’m not seeking to minimise the effort and exhaustion that comes for some ND people when they have to mask in order to get on, or even survive. The effort is most likely enormous, unfair and sometimes quite destructive. I’m just saying that empathising with “masking” is accessible to all of us – because none of us are living, breathing 24/7 models of what socially expected behaviour looks like. For an autistic perspective on masking, here is a video from Andrew Burnett on what masking feels like, for him

** In my devotion to academic rigour, I started to research and summarise a series of 2024-25 statistics here, to support my point. Then it got too depressing, and I stopped. If readers would like to share what you know about how individuals and communities are harmed because of identity – racial , gender, religious, social class and so on – you are welcome to do so, in the comments.

When someone offers honest (and critical) feedback, after you’ve delivered a meeting or a piece of work you’re not feeling confident about, is that a welcome suggestion, or do you start panicking?

Context is everything

Depends on who’s offering, and how you feel about them, right?

Trust matters. A trusted colleague or friend, someone who’s demonstrated a real interest in your success and wellbeing, will be easier to take feedback from than someone who you mistrust. It is particularly hard to take critical feedback from someone, if you suspect their motives.

But the truth matters too. Having said that, people you mistrust – even people who are your competitors or who are wholly opposed to what you do, or who you are – can offer useful feedback. Lawyers know this well. Examining the best arguments of your opponents is the quickest way to understand and address your own greatest weaknesses.

Critical feedback is a gift

Most people dislike being told they’re wrong, or what they’ve done could be improved. This usually (but not always) generates feelings of guilt, shame, sadness and sometimes anger.

Could be this is because we associate ourselves too closely with our ideas, and our work. Might be, we have forgotten that very few things we are skilled at, were perfect, or even close to competent, the first time we tried.

Opening the gift, or returning it – that’s up to you

Yesterday, Andrew Burnett and I delivered a workshop for Diffandnet on the rights of neurodiverse people. I have designed a lot of training on human rights and equalities over the years, but this was a new audience, and new material – and I felt a bit uneasy going into the session.

Afterwards, I asked Andrew for feedback. Now, I am brutal with my feedback to people closest to me, and Andrew – being autistic and also good at self-regulation – takes that feedback really well.

His feedback to me: I should have opened by making it clear that I am neurotypical, that I had made the mistake of presenting the workshop about rather than for/with neurodiverse people, oh also – that I had shared my screen with the presenter’s notes, for the entire hour, and no one (including him) had said anything to me.

(PS: If you are a seasoned trainer, you will know that your presenter’s notes should always be 100% correct and proper. Also, close all the apps other than the screens you need, before you hit the Share Screen button or plug any external display cable into your laptop. Guess how I learned those lessons? )

The Moment of Truth

Despite all I say, and how I hold and deliver feedback to others, that was hard feedback to hear – because Andrew was right. And it had been a long day. Like a really, really long day.

I’m proud to report that I moved into solution-focused mode, rather than getting defensive, going on the attack, or worse still, subjecting Andrew to some sort of undeserved cross-examination on the sofa. (Again, such a lawyer move!)

We’re redesigning the workshop this morning, so we will co-deliver the contents today. Andrew’s role will largely be to hold critical challenge to my material – asking how practical it is to tell people to claim their rights in a world where discrimination is pervasive, systemic and harmful for people, every day.

We don’t have much time and that means it will be much rougher and a bit riskier than what I delivered yesterday – but we’re taking today as an opportunity to create something better than yesterday.

Take a break: some great resources on neurodiversity

Thanks for reading again this week. If you’re curious about exploring resources about neurodiversity created by autistic people, we’ve found some really wonderful materials to share.

If you have 3-5 minutes, take a look at:

• Wendy Ferguson, an autistic Scottish woman, reading her poem about being “normal,” titled My Magic
• Six short films called Embrace Autism for late diagnosed autistic adults, but a great and accessible introduction for everyone on autistic identity, from Autistic Knowledge Development CIC and The National Autistic Society

Have a lovely weekend & see you next week!

First published on LinkedIn on 26 April 2024:
https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/embracing-critical-feedback-jen-ang-0zpoe/