Love Bead Safe Harbor Pin Project: Lessons Learned #1, Do It Scared

814 chances to choose radical respect!

Back when I was a Girl Scout, I volunteered to pull the wagon full of cookie boxes if the other girl would ring doorbells and ask people to buy cookies. I like people, but I’m an introvert, and shy. Talk to lots of strangers? I’d rather step in front of a bus.

There’s this feeling, and I’ve certainly had it, that we should wait to do things until we “feel like it.”  It’s not yet the time, goes that thinking, until the motivation is stronger than any reluctance we might feel.

A good friend once listened patiently as I listed all the reasons I could think of not to start a project, including how unready and nervous I felt. When I ran out of excuses, she interrupted me before I could run through the list again and said, “You’re scared? So, do it scared.”

That seemed too simple. Surely the answer was more complicated. “If it’s important,” she told me, “then it’s important enough to do it. If it’s not important enough to do it, the fear doesn’t matter. How important is this to you?”

I proceeded and the project went, if not perfectly, very well. During the project, I was nervous, elated, scared, excited, all at once. After, I was very happy I’d done it. There are no guarantees — it might have gone down in flames — but I was proud of myself for tackling something I felt strongly about.

It’s hard to explain to an extrovert, and more people are extroverts than introverts, how big a deal it is for an introvert, and a shy person, to talk to almost 600 people, even though 91% of them were receptive, everything from mildly pleased to very enthusiastic. There is not one person I met through this project who I am not glad I met.  I got to meet almost 500 intelligent, openminded, caring people (and my assistant got to meet 20-30 others). If you are one of the people we gave Love Bead Safe Harbor Pins to, know that there are no words to say how happy I am that we met, or grateful I am that you listened to me, considered what I said, and decided to make your public commitment to the dignity of all human beings, even those you might not understand or approve of.

But it never did get easier, approaching strangers. Every time, I had to nerve myself to speak to people. Each encounter, I did it scared. I’m so glad I didn’t wait until I felt like it.

 

If there’s something you want to do, or create, and it’s important to you, don’t wait until you “feel like it.” If it’s really important to you, get moving, even if just the initial planning stage that will eventually bring your idea to fruition. Pat was right, all those years ago. If you need to do it, do it scared.

 

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The Love Bead Safe Harbor Pin Project: What Was It About?

 

The basic idea behind the Love Bead Safe Harbor Pin Project

In November of 2016, I found myself increasingly distressed by the tone of civic life, not just in America, but around the world. There was a new level of just plain, low-down meanness. Name calling, threats… it seemed as though humanity, as a species, was bent on finding out what’s lower than living in the gutter.

I heard from people who were being threatened, or attacked, for some perceived difference. Some way they were perceived as being strange, or not fitting in. It’s not like the abusers were taking time to get to know people and then finding them objectionable. No, this was surface stuff. A way of dressing, the sound of a voice, skin color. Based on just that, the attackers decided they knew who those people were and what that meant.

About that time, I found out about the “Safe Harbor” pin, a plain safety pin worn to signal that you are safe to approach, that you won’t abuse or attack someone else. The idea came from Great Britain. I began wearing a safety pin. It wasn’t something I thought through deeply. It just felt right.

Soon after, reports started surfacing of people who self-identified as “white supremacists” wearing plain safety pins, and a few people objected to the idea of the “safe harbor” pin. The first were, perhaps, trying to co-opt the safe harbor symbol and turn it. The second objected because, they said, wearing a safe harbor pin was (and I’m paraphrasing here), a way for white people to feel good about themselves without doing anything about the problems facing society.

To resist the co-opting of the symbol, I started decorating my pin, making it more flashy, not the sort of thing your average white supremacist would be comfortable with. I started beading my pins, either adopting color patterns already associated with certain causes (like the rainbow pin for LGBTQI rights), or assigning a meaning to a pattern (like the red and white pin showing a commitment to health care for all).

Before going on, let’s address the second issue, that the pin is “just” a symbol. No symbol, on its own, solves a problem, yet human beings seem to need them. We’re always creating symbols. It’s a shorthand for an idea, and using that symbol is a way to remind yourself that you are committed to it, and to tell others that you think it’s important. I have been told by people wearing Love Bead Safe Harbor Pins that when they have them on, it alters their interactions with other people. They’re more cognizant of the choices they make. That, I believe, is a good thing.

As I wore my pin, other people admired it and asked where they could get one. I started making extras, carrying them around and giving them to people who admired my pin. As I did, I explained briefly the significance of the pin and started using the term “radical respect” to explain the idea that we have the choice to treat other people, even people we disagree with, or don’t understand, or disapprove of, with respect. That we can respect our common humanity.

The more I talked to people, the clearer the idea became. Given a chance, would people choose to publicly avow a belief that all people should be treated with respect?

Looking at the conversations I was having, I realized that the pin was a means to talking about these ideas and making them conscious choices. If I simply approached someone and asked him to publicly declare his commitment to treating people with respect, most people would probably decline, if they even let me finish the thought. But I saw that offering that little keepsake, that beaded pin, gave people the opportunity to make a conscious choice. At a pin giveaway, here are the choices:

  • Make eye contact or don’t. If someone avoids eye contact, I let him walk by;
  • Talk to me or don’t. If I start to offer a pin and the person indicates he doesn’t want to talk, I let him pass;
  • Listen to me or don’t. A few people will cut me off mid-sentence and leave, or dispute the basic idea (the “yeah, but” reaction);
  • Accept a pin, or don’t. At this point, the pin has a meaning attached to it already (“Wearing it or keeping it where you can see it represents your belief that all people, even people you may disagree with, not understand, or disapprove of, should be treated with respect.”). To accept the set at this point is to accept the philosophy.  Because you are offered the pin, and the philosophy, in a public place, acceptance is a public statement;
  • Choose a basic Safe Harbor Pin, or choose one with a secondary meaning (support for women’s rights, for example, or support for access to health care);
  • Wear the pin, or don’t. What you do with the pin is another point of choice. Those who strongly agree are most likely to wear the pin (sometimes putting it on at that moment);
  • Share the second pin on the card, or don’t. I’ve seen people do it right away, or state to whom they intend to give the second pin.

Via that little pin, people are given a way to make a conscious choice, affirm that choice, and even advocate for their belief.

While a couple of  people contacted me online and volunteered to contribute to the cost of the materials for the pins, when I give away pins in person, I do not solicit donations, nor do I accept them. It’s important to me that it is free to the recipient. It is presented as a gift. If someone offers me money in person, I urge him to contribute that money to a cause or charity he supports.

In total, we gave away 510 sets of pins in three cities (or 1,020 pins).

Over and over, I’ve talked with people who get very energized and enthusiastic, far more than the offer of a free beaded safety pin can account for.  Having talked to hundreds of people and watched them react, it seems to be the idea they get excited about, that we can consciously choose how to treat people, and that those choices say something about the people we decide to be. In a couple of minutes, they are presented with that information (by being presented with the chance to consciously choose), and a symbol of the decision they made.

I’ve had people say they like “having a name for it.” As one woman explained, “having a name for the idea makes it easier to talk about.” Another said that having the symbol helped her talk about the ideas behind it as she could show the pin and explain what it is as a way to start.

My mother used to say that people will rise to your expectations, or fall to them. Certainly that’s been my experience in this project. Given a simple keepsake as a symbol, many people will confirm for themselves and the people around them that they aspire to ask more of themselves.

Which is a very hopeful thing.

I’m grateful to have been present when they made that choice. To everyone who chose to take a set of pins, thank you for letting me be part of that moment. May you be blessed and may you enjoy the pride you justifiably feel. It seemed like a brief moment and a small thing, but it was big.

Secondary meaning came via the color pattern. Shown here: women’s rights, environmantalism, LGBTQI rights and Civil Rights & Social Justice.

The “Access To Health Care” Pin

The “LGBTQI Rights” Pin

The “Women’s Rights” Pin

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Pin Tales: The De Young Museum, San Francisco, CA

Putting out the word around the world.

This was one of those that was both not as good as I expected, and much, much better.

Because The De Young Museum is running a “summer of love” – themed exhibition, I thought this would be a great place to offer Love Bead Safe Harbor Pins. People would be there to see an art exhibit with a similar theme. The packaging had a peace sign on it, after all, and we brought the project to San Francisco in connection with the 50th anniversary of the Summer of Love, so it sounded like a perfect match.

I even contacted the De Young, or tried to. I sent a couple of emails that were never even acknowledged. Having gotten permission from the police department, the arts commission and the parks commission, I was on solid ground to give pins away in Golden Gate Park. I couldn’t advertise it (or the appearances in Mission Dolores Park), but I could do it.

Grabbing my crutches and bag of pins, I took my place on the sidewalk. Attendance was very light, so often I simply stood, looking around . Among the people who did pass by, many did exactly that — pass by. If someone doesn’t make eye contact, I let him walk by. He’s self-selecting to not be included by not agreeing to that initial contact. If someone pretends he doesn’t see me, I let him. Also, if someone does make eye contact but won’t listen, I let him pass. It doesn’t seem to fit the idea of promoting respect by not respecting that person’s right to refuse contact.

A few  people were so uncomfortable with my attempt to make minimal contact that they cringed. So I stared into my pin bag, shuffling the contents (this reduces their tension, as though the eye contact was accidental so it’s okay to ignore it). A number of people I encountered at the De Young fit this category. If you were watching me, you would have seen me staring into a bag about a fifth of the time I was there.

Of the people who did tacitly agree to make contact, most of those took pins. A couple listened politely to my explanation then refused to take a pin, but of those, one told me she agrees with the whole idea but doesn’t wear any jewelry. Another said she agrees with everything I said but didn’t want a pin. I thanked them each for their time.

A group of people gathered near me. I overheard them speaking in French and debated approaching them as I had one year of French in junior high, from a teacher who wasn’t much interested in teaching French. I can say “hello” and ask where to find “the room of the bath,” but that’s about it. My French, such as it is, is a collection of disconnected phrases, “la salle de bain,” “encroyable,” “oui et non,” “la plume de ma tante est sur le bureau de mon oncle,” that sort of thing. Only one other sentence sticks in my mind, “Je suis enerve,” which I think means (approximately), “I am tired.” Also, I have a few of the lyrics of the song “La Vie En Rose” stuck in my head.

So my command of French is more of a weak suggestion. Then it occurred to me that the guide had to be bilingual to navigate the city. When he seemed to be done, I approached and asked if I could offer his group Love Bead Safe Harbor Pins.

This began a back-and-forth between me, the guide, and the group. I explained the project and offered the pins, stressing that they are free. “Free?” Yes, I explained, free, gratis, no charge…

He explained to the group. I was just able to follow enough of what he said to know his interpretation was quite close to mine. The members of the group murmured amongst themselves. One person said, “C’est merveilleux!” I laughed, and had to explain that I was laughing as this is one of the few French phrases I understand completely (“It’s marvelous!”).

Someone asked, “What group do you represent?” I explained that I’m an independent artist. We continued to converse through the guide. Someone wanted to know how I came to do this project. Another person asked what my inspiration was. Was this my usual artistic style and medium? Could we discuss the meanings of the various colors and patterns?

After we finished and everyone who wanted pins had selected a set, a lovely woman approached and hesitantly pantomimed a wish to hug me, which I agreed to. Solemnly, she kissed me on one cheek, then the other, her hands on my shoulders. She said something to a member of the group, who translated, “She says this is very important.” Another asked to have her picture taken with me and I consented. As I wished them a good day and turned to go, a woman said something to her companion, who laughed a bit awkwardly. I looked a question at them and her companion said, “She said… it’s not polite… she said she never expected to see an American doing something like this.”

I had to laugh — so they did.  We wished each other well and I moved on to talk to a couple nearby.

Later, I saw two of the members of the group and felt bad — I didn’t recognize them away from the group! It’s hard when you meet a lot of people in a short time. They looked familiar but I couldn’t be sure, so I offered them pins… and found out they already had them. I tried to explain, but I’m not sure they understood.

I spoke with an interesting woman who was a young girl in San Francisco during the Summer of Love. We talked about the atmosphere then, and the project, and her experiences at the time. I also gave pins to (among others) a couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary (they married in San Francisco during the Summer of Love), a young couple from Korea who were, I think, on a date, some parents with small children who talked about trying to raise kids who are kind people while giving them the kind of wariness of strangers they need to survive (not easy, I’m sure, and partially why I don’t approach anyone who seems to be younger than 15 who doesn’t seem to be with an adult)…

One person I approached was a woman seated on a bench who had been watching me for some time. As I approached, she said, “I’ve heard it. I’ll take a pin, but I don’t think talking is going to do anything.” We chatted a bit about the idea that talking is central to doing anything much… we need the cooperation of other people. At last, she admitted she was feeling particularly downhearted that day, which I understand. Current events can seem overwhelming, no matter what your beliefs may be, and a part of what seems so disheartening is a perception that people can’t talk to each other any more, especially if they disagree.

Here’s the thing — we all disagree about something with every person we know. It may be a small thing. Should the toilet paper hang over the roll, or under?” It might be a big thing. But we disagree with every person about something. Sometimes I disagree with myself — I’m not sure what the answer is. So if I don’t talk to people I don’t agree with, I won’t even be able to talk to myself!

My husband met a different tour group and they accepted pins, as did the driver. A couple from England took a set for themselves and a set for their granddaughters. Another couple asked for a set each so they could give the second pins to their daughters.

One couple enthusiastically selected pins, and the man held out some five dollar bills. “It’s free,” I repeated.

“But I want to help,” he said. “I want to do something!”

“I really appreciate that,” I said, “but I don’t ask for or accept donations when I’m giving away pins. Take that money and donate it to a charity or cause you believe in.”

The woman with him said, “We could give it to the museum! We’re just about to go in!”

“That would be a great choice,” I told them. “Thank you!”

They went off toward the museum, money at the ready. I hope they followed through on it. I get that reaction a few times a day when distributing pins, and I tell everyone the same thing.

Which reminds me — I’ll be creating some very special pins soon, and those will be offered for sale, with part of the money going to charities helping people in need (like Opening Doors and Mustard Seed School). I’ll post when those are available.

And if we meet, ask for a set of pins. I’ll always try to keep a few on me.

 

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Pin Tales: Mission Dolores Park, San Francisco

Of skaters and little kids.

This is the stop that almost didn’t  happen.

I was tired and dejected after our stop in the Haight Ashbury district. It wasn’t that people had rejected the Safe Harbor Pin — most of them had no idea they were being offered anything. They rejected me, personally. Sure, every person gets rejected, but being quickly sized up and dismissed by a hundred people in fifteen minutes is hard to take.

It didn’t dawn on me at the time that among people who actually gave me 30 seconds, the acceptance rate was about 85%. And those people were enthusiastic. No, in the moments after our visit to “the Haight,” I was just tired, feeling stung, and ready to go to our room. Mark reminded me that the Haight was an unusual circumstance and I should try again. We went to Mission Dolores Park, a beautiful city park that runs down a steep hill. At the top corners are concrete platforms from which you can get a spectacular view of the park and the city of San Francisco, joined by concrete walkways that meander through the center of the park to another area at the bottom of the hill with a playground and picnic area. The park was full of people in ones, twos, and groups, enjoying the sunshine and cool breeze.

Mark was right. I believed in this project and determined not to give up. I got my crutches (I’m on crutches for a walk of any real length), grabbed the bag (the wind made offering them on a tray impractical), and set off at the top of the park.

Right away, I ran into a group of tourists and their guide, on bicycles. I waited until the guide had finished his presentation and approached the group. “Would you like a free Love Bead Safe Harbor Pin? Surprised, they asked how much the pins were. I repeated that they’re free. They asked questions about Safe Harbor and the pins, selected their pins, thanked me, and pedaled away. I set off down the walkway, offering pins.

Understand, that for an introvert, this isn’t easy. Heck, making eye contact with a lot of people isn’t easy. Talking to them? Much harder. I like people, but where extroverts are energized by being around other people, introverts expend energy to be around people and recharge their batteries by being alone. So talking to lots of people can be fun, but it’s also tiring. Plus, I’m shy. So approaching hundreds of strangers isn’t the easiest thing for me to do. To stand on a corner trying to talk to strangers is hard for most people. To be curtly dismissed or passed by people pretending not to see you is exhausting.

But I’m also stubborn. Having decided this was important and I was determined to see it through, I smiled into every face I met. Some people averted their eyes, others smiled back but sped up their pace. If the person made eye contact, I offered him or her a pin. A few — very few — said “no, thanks” without breaking stride before I even finished the first sentence. That’s fine. They have the right we all have to decide who we associate with, even briefly. I don’t take that personally, although it’s tiring.

Most of the people I tried to engage with made eye contact. Almost all seemed wary at first, which I understand. By the end of the brief explanation, however, all but one reacted positively. They looked at the pins, asked questions (“Who made these?” “What organization are you working with?” “Why did you decide to do this?”). They listened to the outline of the meaning of various color patterns, and chose. I only had two people choose based on color alone, and no one who took one before listening to the explanation (in other words, just because it’s free).

A couple of people offered me money, even though they understood by that point that the pins were offered free. “I want to make a donation!”  “I want to help!”  I thanked them and urged them to donate that money to a charity or cause they supported. Both liked the idea — I hope they followed up on it.

I spoke with people as young as six (with parental permission) and as old as their late 60s (I don’t ask for personal information, but some people volunteer it). They were, based on clothing, accessories and volunteered information, from a wide range of cultures and economic and educational levels. Here’s a key point — in both cases, my own and the person I’m speaking with, we are probably talking to someone we would not have spoken to otherwise. We didn’t know each other. Often, we had nothing obvious in common. Everything that happened took place because we opened our walls just a chink for a couple of minutes. Here are some of the stories:

The Skaters:  I approached a group of about fifteen people who appeared to be between 17 and 23 years old, a mix of races and clothing styles, some with skateboards, some smoking pot openly (thank goodness for allergy medication — I’m very allergic to marijuana). When I first approached, they seemed a bit wary, but by the end of the first sentence, one asked, “What’s a Safe Harbor Pin?” I explained Safe Harbor and the idea of “radical respect,” that we can respect someone’s humanity even if we disagree with him or don’t approve of him, and the meaning of the pin. A young man near me said, “Fuck, yeah! I want one of those!” Several of the people in the group looked sharply in my direction, probably with an expectation that the old lady wasn’t going to appreciate that “F bomb.” I laughed, and they laughed. He accepted the bag of pins, chose one, and at my request, passed it around. We chatted about respect, who we get it from and give it to.

Another young man skated up to the group. He noticed the packet in the first young man’s hands and asked about it. Before I could say anything, the first man said, “It’s a Safe Harbor Pin.” He went on to explain the ideas of Safe Harbor and Radical Respect, and read the explanation on the back of his pin package to the newcomer. One of the girls said, “So are you for respect, or what?!?” The second man said, “Bitch, yeah! I’m all over that!” Then he glanced at me. I looked solemnly at the first man and said, “True, he’s calling you a bitch, but with great respect.” We had a chuckle and continued passing the bag around.

As I said goodbye, I asked if everyone had a pin who wanted one. A young woman in the back (so uphill from me) said quietly that she hadn’t gotten a pin, so I went up the hill. We chatted about the project as she selected her pin set. She wished me good luck with the project and I went on to the next group.

At another place in the park, near the playground, I approached a young woman with two children, a boy and a girl, about six and eight. I offered her a set of pins, and the kids swarmed up to look in the bag, all bright eyes, energy and curiosity. Mom translated my explanations and she and the kids picked out pin sets. Mom cautioned them that the pins are sharp,  but if they could take it seriously, they could have pins. We chatted for a moment, and as I wished them a good weekend and turned to leave, the little boy jumped up and shouted, “You have a good weekend! And a good summer break!”

A man and woman sitting at a picnic bench with a young girl heard my “spiel,” and accepted pins. As they looked through the bag, the man picked up a rainbow set. Before I could explain the LGBTQI significance, he laughed and said, “You have the flag (the rainbow flag, seen around San Francisco)!” He then selected a different set, saying, “It’s obvious that I’m gay. I don’t need to fly the flag on my shirt.”

Which is a good point. To me, being, say, homosexual is one facet of a personality, but by no means the only, or even most important, thing. It’s information, like height or eye color, but we are all so much more than any one thing.

A group of nicely-dressed teen girls listened to me, smiled broadly, and selected pins. Like everyone else I encountered at that site, they seemed to select pins based on the meaning more than the color. One looked up from the pins and said, “This is a good idea.”

I think people respond to this on an almost subconscious level (more about that in another post). One woman at another site said she was happy to have a name to give the ideas (safe harbor and radical respect), because that makes it easier to talk about it. When we give something a name, it’s easier to bring it up and talk about it than if you have to form the concept as you’re talking.

By the time my husband picked me up at the bottom of the hill, I was sore but happy. I met young mothers, kids, older people, young adults… and most of them were interested in the idea of Safe Harbor and standing up, in a quiet way, for the idea of respect. Those people turned my day around, and I was ready to have some lunch and prepare for the next day.

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Pin Tales: Haight Ashbury

 

The one that almost killed the rest.

This was the site that almost killed the project, but I learned something important — don’t let the negative blind you to the positive.

I thought that if any place on Earth would be receptive to this project, it would be the Haight Ashbury district of San Francisco. It’s famous for its role in the Summer of Love and hippie culture. Admittedly, 50 years have passed since the Summer of Love, and much of the imagery of that time and the hippie movement have become marketing tools. Still, I thought that the residents, and tourists who flock to see the famous places, would be open to receiving a Safe Harbor Pin.

Within minutes it was clear how wrong I was. Mark said it best (which often happens): “This has the feel of a busy city street in New York.” People were in a hurry, many with ear buds in their ears, walking quickly, not making eye contact. Presented with a smiling stranger holding something out, they averted their gazes and quickened their paces. Some muttered, “I don’t have any change” as they passed, and I realized they had very quickly sized me up, determined I was a panhandler, and couldn’t get away from me quickly enough. Most of them never even had a chance to accept a pin or reject it — they rejected me on first sight and that was that.

It’s the first time I’ve gotten that reaction. Not that everyone wants a pin, which is fine, that’s their choice. And sometimes a person is too busy to stop, or having a bad day. But this is the first time a large number of people have quickly assigned me an identity and rejected me. It was quite an experience and I have a new appreciation for street hawkers and panhandlers and how hard a job it is.

I’m an introvert, and shy, so it’s hard for me to approach strangers anyway. Buffeted by a wave of rejection in a short time, I was ready to curl up in an introvert ball like an armadillo. Even so, I made myself continue to approach people, and a few gave me a hearing. Of those, two agreed with the premise but didn’t want a pin (one said she never wears jewelry and another didn’t explain, which is fine). Those I thanked and said goodbye to.

Others accepted a pin, including:

A group of women, maybe 18-30, accompanied by two young  girls and a baby in a stroller. They listened politely to my brief explanation, showed enthusiasm for the idea, asked questions about the pins, and thoughtfully chose the ones they wanted, urging the girls to get pins as well. The two girls asked me to repeat what the color patterns mean, and chose pins based on that, as did the adults. One adult asked for a second set for another family member as she planned to give her own second pin to her mother. They smiled broadly at the explanation of the meaning of the pins, and at the information that each card had two pins so they could give pins to other people. They thanked me and we wished each other a good day.

A young woman with dreadlocks listened to my explanation, smiled and said, “That is such a good idea. We need to make other people feel wanted. May I hug you?” I agreed. We hugged, she selected a pin, wished me a good day and left.

A woman about 40, jogging past with headphones heard me tell someone that I wasn’t going to bother her. She stopped, pulled out one ear bud, said, “It’s okay, I’m on hold, what’s up?” I quickly explained and offered her a pin. She laughed, said, “I love this!,” selected a pin, thanked me, and strode off.

A young couple debated whether it was “fair” to take a set of pins each to share with others, asking if they should just share a set with each other. One mentioned the person he would give his second pin to. I told them it was fine to take a set each to share, which they did.

We left the Haight Ashbury area earlier than planned because we couldn’t even gauge the rate of acceptance — most people never even had a chance to say yes or no. I was feeling dejected — it’s hard to stand on a corner being sized up and dismissed by herds of people before you say a word. We moved on to Mission Dolores Park, which was a very different experience.

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