The Judgment Jacket
We all wear a jacket. Not the kind you put on when it’s cold, or the one you throw over your shoulders when you’re heading out the door.
I’m talking about our Judgment Jacket. We all have one.
photo credit: tommy van kessel on Unsplash
We make judgments about people, situations, ideas, and ourselves. Sometimes we make them consciously. More often, we make them before we’ve even realized we’ve made them.
And no two Judgment Jackets are alike. Some are heavy leather, covered in studs and rhinestones. Some are denim, covered with patches collected over years. Some are beautifully tailored and look perfectly appropriate in a professional setting. Some are made of silk—light, subtle, almost impossible to see.
Some are old and worn in. Some are brand new. Some are inherited from our families, our cultures, our professions, or our experiences. Some we’ve made ourselves. Some are easy to take off. Others are really, really hard. And sometimes we don’t even realize we’re wearing one.
We all have one
Our Judgment Jackets serve a purpose.
Judgment is part of being human. We are constantly interpreting what we see, making sense of what we hear, deciding what feels safe, familiar, interesting, threatening, credible, or worth our attention.
Having judgements is not a problem. The problem comes when we forget that we have them.
Once we put on our Judgment Jacket, we don’t just see the other person. We see the other person through our jacket. We may decide someone is arrogant before we’ve gotten to know them. We may decide an idea won’t work because we’ve tried something similar before. We may assume someone doesn’t have anything to contribute because of their position, their discipline, their age, their title, or the way they communicate. We may hear a comment and immediately begin constructing a story about what the person really meant. And once that story takes hold, it can become surprisingly difficult to take the jacket off.
Taking off the Jacket
I recently experienced the power of this metaphor in a way I’ll never forget.
We were opening a conference, and we wanted to create something different from the usual conference experience.
We didn’t want people:
to spend the next few days quietly sizing each other up, competing for airtime, protecting their ideas, worrying about how they would be perceived, or wondering whether it was safe to say what they were really thinking.
We wanted people to be able to:
interact freely, share ideas that weren’t fully formed, disagree without becoming disagreeable, be curious, be vulnerable, collaborate.
So we began by talking about the Judgment Jacket.
And then we invited everyone to do something very simple.
Shedding the Jacket
Literally. We stood up and took off our own jackets first. Because it’s one thing to tell someone else to let go of judgment. And it is another thing to say, I’m going to do this with you.
Then we asked the audience to remove theirs as well. What happened? Hesitation, followed by tentative movements, followed by full engagement. Some people took theirs off easily. For others, it seemed to take a little more work. That’s the thing about these jackets. Some of them are pretty well attached.
Eventually the jackets came off. And then we invited everyone to wad them up and throw them into the center of the room. There they were.
A pile of Judgment Jackets.... Different sizes. Different shapes. Different textures.
And then came the final part. We invited people to light a match. And burn them.
It was symbolic, of course. We weren’t suggesting that anyone would suddenly become free of judgment for the rest of the conference—or for the rest of their lives.
That’s not how being human works. But there was something powerful about making a conscious choice to set those judgments aside, even temporarily.
To say:
I’m willing to meet these people without deciding in advance who they are.
I’m willing to listen before I interpret.
I’m willing to be curious.
I’m willing to let an idea emerge before I decide whether it’s a good one.
I’m willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.
What happened next was really special.
I don’t want to claim that a single exercise magically created a safe environment. Creating trust takes more than that. But I do believe that something important happened in that room.
People began to let their guard down.
They shared more openly.
They listened differently.
They were willing to try things.
They were willing to be wrong.
And, perhaps most importantly, they began to collaborate rather than compete.
That was particularly meaningful because competition had often been the tenor of previous meetings.
Instead of asking, How do I make sure my idea gets heard? There seemed to be more of: What can we create together?
Instead of protecting territory, people became curious about one another’s ideas.
Instead of worrying so much about how they were being perceived, they could participate.
The room felt different. And I think part of that difference began with something as simple—and as difficult—as taking off a jacket.
Moving forward, maybe we will be a little more aware of when we’re wearing them. Notice when:
the jacket has become heavy
we’re judging someone before we’ve heard them
an old patch from a past experience is influencing how we’re seeing something new
And maybe, when we notice it, we can choose to take the jacket off. If only for a little while.
Acknowledgement to my Amazing colleague who introduced me to this concept. Michelle Clarke.
