"Snotty and boring." Those are the exact words a literary agent used years ago to describe a manuscript I'd sent for her consideration. I'll never forget her pointed critique, just as I've never forgotten the reasons a youthful crush gave when he broke up with me more than two decades ago. I was "not aloof enough," he said, somewhat sheepishly, and I didn't wear enough makeup.
Like everyone else I know, I've had some harrowing experiences with negative feedback. I can give as good as I get, too. When I was teaching writing in a university, one of my better students threatened to punch me in the face after we discussed how to improve her thesis.
Who among us can't relate to her reaction? Criticism is by definition something no one wants to hear. At best, it's annoying; at worst, it may seem to threaten our identity, even our very survival. Is there any right way to say it, or to hear it?
Negative feedback is essential for negotiating life and social relations. Despite the feel-good mantra of current self-improvement manuals, much of our growth and development depends on interactions and other experiences that feel bad. Criticism has a hallowed role in nearly every area of human endeavor.
[--excerpts from "A CHIC CRITIQUE" by Karen Wright; published in Psychology Today (Apr 2011)]
But how do we handle negative or critical feedback in any subjective industry? As a talent, we are constantly bombarded with other's opinions of our value, our aptitude, and myriad other judgments. If not those from others, we battle our own anxiety and need to excel. What to do, then, with criticism?
About the only place a talent is willing to take constructive feedback in any form is under the guise of a coach. But even then, allowing oneself to be vulnerable is a challenge. Traditional schooling systems train us to expect critical feedback, but only for those things that can be exactly measured (e.g., tests, multiple choice, facts).
Are any of us really fooled by such sleights of tongue? Probably not. I didn't assassinate my grad student's character when I reviewed the draft of her thesis, and yet she came away mortally offended. People react strongly to criticism no matter how it's delivered. Hearts race, muscles tense, blood pressure rises; the ancient fight-or-flight response kicks in, courtesy of the sympathetic nervous system. It's almost as though our brains are fine-tuned to apprehend negative feedback in any guise.
Are we just being hypersensitive? Too often, those with the hurt feelings are told to "toughen up" and "get over it". It may be more difficult than that, as findings from scientific research show. There's evidence that separate circuits . . . handle negative information and events and they're more sensitive than the circuits that handle positive phenomena. [John Cacioppo, University of Chicago] Maybe your big girl/boy britches were ALREADY on.
The negativity bias can seriously skew our interpretation of critical feedback. Shortly after I started a new job, my boss sent me an email expressing displeasure with my performance. I remembered it as a scorching harangue, but when I reread it months later, I was surprised to find that the "harangue" included strong encouragement and complimented my skills. It didn't matter; the message stung, even the second time around.
Seeing and hearing negative feedback is hard to do. Keep in mind that the world is not as black and white as it may seem in the moment. Even negative feedback has it's silver lining. More importantly, though, critical feedback taps into our need to be included; our need for safety. Once we realize that negative feedback doesn't ostracize or endanger our well-being, it's easier to realize that it can instead be an opportunity to grow as a person. Are you choosing to fear the boogeyman or see opportunity?
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