I’m guilty, and that’s not easy for me to say especially on my very public blog. Yes, in spite of my role as an intercultural consultant I still have biases, and they creep up in unexpected ways, like tiny ghosts through microscopic crevices.
Biases are a part of human nature, but somehow we’re all shocked when we confront our own. You may have heard someone say “I’m not prejudiced but…” and you brace yourself for the extremely prejudiced comments that usually follow. Yet we feel the need to qualify our biases because we don’t want to admit we stereotype people. It’s simply wrong to cast aspersions on a whole group. Right? Or, like all human foibles, are biases an opportunity for authentic growth?
I confronted my most recent bias as many people do – under stress. It is well documented that although we may live abroad successfully or adapt well to another culture, when we are depressed or under pressure most of us tend to revert to past behaviors or identities. Several weeks ago I scheduled a training session in Cedar Rapids, Iowa for a client and for whatever reason I wasn’t looking forward to it. I do like small towns; in fact I worked last year in smaller towns all across the U.S. and Europe. I consider them cultural adventures for me having lived in big cities all my life.
Cedar Rapids, however, did not stir the call of adventure. I was grumpy that I couldn’t get a direct flight (I’m spoiled by the Atlanta airport) and by the time I woke up on the morning of my departure for the corn-enhanced state of Iowa I was downright sour. I didn’t feel like going to the “middle of nowhere.”
When I arrived at Cedar Rapids’ tiny airport my spirits were not lifted. The air was muggy and I was surrounded by cornfields. I sighed in resignation. When I tried to find the hotel the street didn’t even have a sign at the four-way stop. More irritated sighing followed as well as a “wowwwww” out loud in the car.
What I found, however, was not a town “in the sticks.” What I found was a covert bias that arose under strain. What I also found was a town that captured my heart.
From the moment I stepped into The Hotel at Kirkwood Center I was greeted by friendly staff who took care of my every need. The hotel was modern and impeccably decorated in a contemporary style; it was open, light, and spacious. The restaurant, called The Class Act, was just that. Run by a professional crew with the help of culinary students from the college down the road the eatery served food done to perfection like seared tuna salad with arugula, chicken stewed in peppers and tomato broth, and perfectly spiced pork tenderloin. Rarely have I eaten better anywhere! The education crew expertly handled my training session needs and AV equipment, all while serving a divine lunch with red velvet cake for dessert. The best was yet to come.
After a great day of teambuilding and talking about India I went out to explore Cedar Rapids. What I saw allowed me to face my bias at even closer range. I found gorgeous parks with ponds and riverfront walks, a gay and lesbian resource center, an African-American museum, a Bohemian cemetery, a Muslim cemetery, and a Czech village.
I pulled the car over when I reached the Czech village and began to wander on foot. According to my class participants the little town had suffered a devastating flood, the fifth worst natural disaster in United States history. I saw some signs of damage, but some shops had rebuilt and I found myself peeking in every window. I wanted to know why so many Czechs had moved to Cedar Rapids. What was the history? I wanted to talk to someone about the place, and just like that a shopkeeper came out of the Sykora Bakery (which was closed) and said hello to me with a smile.
“Excuse me,” I said.
He turned around with an open expression, encouraging me to go on.
“I wondered if you could tell me a little about this village.”
“Sure,” he replied. “You mean why are there so many Czechs here?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
The interaction that followed is one I won’t soon forget. This man owned the bakery; his name was John and told me all about the history of the place. Czechs started arriving in the mid-1800′s to work in local packing plants. Many of them homesteaded and settled the farms around Cedar Rapids.
John took me inside the bakery and talked about how he and his wife restored it themselves. The place was destroyed in the flood and 1300 volunteers from Cedar Rapids helped to rebuild it. They lost the original oven, but since schoolchildren come there to learn about old baking methods, John invested in another vintage oven. He told me about the things they bake like kolace (fruit-filled danishes) and cream cheese cookies. He gave me some samples and talked about his dedication to keeping the neighborhood alive. I felt alive being inside the bakery, a place full of soul. John wished me well and I drove in awe back to the hotel past old houses with families talking outside to neighbors or throwing a ball to a dog.
I can’t explain why I was so grumpy about this trip. Perhaps had I been in a better general mood this bias about the lack of liveliness in remote towns would not have surfaced. I’m so glad it did. Thank you, Iowa.
What biases within you might need reexamination? If you work on a global team or with diverse customers, this examination is well worth the effort. Imagine how high we could soar without the weight of our own prejudice.
Stay tuned! Next up: Zen and the Art of Offshoring
