On being … invisible

By Ingrid Sapona

The other day I was meeting a friend for dinner after work and I decided to walk to the restaurant because it was a lovely summer day. Rather than taking the most direct route, I decided to walk through the University of Toronto campus. Whenever I go through the campus, I take note of the different banners that adorn the light stanchions. I’ve always loved such banners: they’re festive and they’re always a signal that something special’s happening or coming.

In the case of the banners around U of T, they remind passers-by of the importance and benefits of the University. For example, some banners feature the name of a prominent alum or faculty member along with information about that individual’s achievements. Others promote discoveries that are somehow related to the University, like Banting and Best’s discovery of insulin.

Because of my extended, leisurely stroll through the campus, that afternoon I read all the banners I came across. There was a series of banners with the word BOUNDLESS across the bottom. All of them seemed to relate to research I figure was being done at the University. One in particular caught my eye – it read: INVISIBILITY: SCIENCE FACT OR SCIENCE FICTION? It also featured a drawing clearly meaning to conjure up Harry Potter’s cloak of invisibility.

I loved that the banner did exactly what I imagine the banner designer intended: it caused me to stop dead in my tracks and smile AND think about the question. As I pondered the answer, I realized I was in the part of the campus that hosts hard science faculties. That, I figured, had lots to do with the wording of the question.

Indeed, I immediately thought that the question of invisibility isn’t just relevant for those studying physical sciences. As it happens, the phenomenon of invisibility’s been on my mind a lot lately, but from a sociological perspective. I’ve been thinking about the different ways people have of making other people seem – or feel – invisible.

The feeling of being “unseen” is a common complaint among seniors, for example. As proof, they often point to all the marketing aimed at younger folks. But, beyond reminders that one’s not in the coveted demographic, I’ve been in many situations where others’ subtle behaviours have made me feel invisible.

For example, I’ve been in business meetings where it’s clear some people in the meeting had information that a few of us didn’t. When this fact subtly surfaces, it’s often clear it’s not meant to hurt or alienate. (By contrast, I was recently at a meeting when someone said: “I’m privy to information that you aren’t…”. When the person didn’t elaborate, it was clear to all that it was a power trip.) In any event, the result’s the same – those not “in the know” may as well be invisible.

Ignoring people’s calls, emails, or comments is another way people make others invisible. Again, I’m not necessarily saying that such behaviour is intentional – I’m just talking about the impact of such actions (or lack of action). No fancy invisibility cloak is needed: the person left hanging, unacknowledged is, in effect, invisible.

The question posed on that banner – and my admittedly weird riff on it – got me thinking about whether – or how – I might treat others as invisible. As I made my way to the restaurant, I couldn’t think of ways in which I might be doing so. In a business context, for example, I always respond quickly, even if my initial response is that I’ll get back to them. The same with responding to friends. Whew, I thought… not guilty…

But, given that the topic had been percolating through my mind of late, I thought it would be something I’d feature in a column. Then, as these things so often go, it came to mind last night as I was stopped at a traffic light. The road had a centre median and up ahead I saw a man walking down the row of stopped cars holding out a cup for change.

This gentleman said nothing and did nothing other than hold out his cup as he paused by every car. None of the drivers – myself included – gave him anything. In fact, as he approached my car, I consciously avoided making eye contact. After he passed, I watched him in my rear view mirror and I saw that the person behind me did the same thing.

As I sat there waiting for the light, I began to feel bad because I realized I had done my best to make him invisible. Regardless of the reason he was panhandling, as a fellow human being I should have recognized his existence by at least making eye contact with him. Shame on me…

I don’t think there’s any question that invisibility is a fact. Maybe there should be a banner with the question: Invisibility: What can we do to combat it?

© 2019 Ingrid Sapona

On being … when to?

By Ingrid Sapona

Wimbledon 2019 wrapped up this weekend. I don’t really follow tennis, and I didn’t watch any of the tournament. But, it’s hard to avoid hearing about it while it’s going on. This year, one of the biggest stories about the tournament happened before I was even aware it had started. I’m talking about 15-year-old Cori Gauff’s first round win over Venus Williams.

The news reports focused mainly on the young Gauff, which is as it should be, as it was her moment in the sun. She certainly sounds like an impressive, poised young woman. It was heartwarming to hear that after the match when she shook hands with Venus, Gauff thanked her for everything she’s done for the sport. Apparently, Gauff idolized the Williams sisters growing up and said they were the reason she wanted to pick up a tennis racket. Imagine going up against an idol the very first time you’re at Wimbledon…

When I heard the story of the young phenom beating the 37-year-old I immediately wondered what Venus’ reaction was. It didn’t surprise me to hear that she was gracious. Apparently, when they shook hands, Venus congratulated Gauff and encouraged her to “keep going” and she wished her good luck. But it wasn’t what she said that I was thinking about.

I was wondering how Venus felt and whether – in the days after the tournament ends – this particularly newsworthy loss might weigh heavier than others. I wondered whether – or how – it might impact a decision she must face at some time: whether to retire from singles competition. Given her health issues, I imagine she’s been thinking about it for quite awhile. (She’s been public about the fact that she has Sjörgen’s syndrome, which is a horrible sounding autoimmune disease.) And, I’m sure she understands that even for those without health issues, it’s rare to remain competitive as a singles player as you near your 40s.

In the business world, the issue of when it’s time for someone to leave is often couched in a discussion of “succession planning”. That has a nice, noble ring to it, doesn’t it? But, I always wonder whether the person whose successor is being contemplated views it so objectively. If you still feel perfectly capable and enjoy your work, such talk must be hard. Now imagine that you’re facing replacement by a 15 year-old. I know, given that Venus started her Wimbledon career at the ripe old age of 17, perhaps it’s less shocking to her than to a businessperson. But still, I can’t imagine how it feels to be replaced by someone who is not even old enough to drive!

Part of why I found myself dwelling on it is that the issue of when (or whether) to retire is something that comes up a lot these days in my social circle. For many, their decision seems to hinge on economics. In other words, whether they can afford to retire with the lifestyle they’d like. In this regard, some probably envy Venus because that’s not an issue for her. But even when money isn’t an issue, perhaps ego is. I can’t imagine it’s easy for a professional athlete to walk away from their career because they stop winning. (Hell, it wouldn’t surprise me if aging fuels professional athletes’ competitive nature even more because maybe they feel they have to prove that they’ve still got it.)

I’ve also been thinking about the cascade of other decisions that follow on as we get older. For example, there’ll be the question of whether to downsize or move into a place that’s more physically accessible. (Ah, those pesky stairs…) Then, at some point there’s the issue of when to give up driving, or when to give up owning a boat or cottage.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’m not writing about this because I’m down or depressed about facing such eventualities. I’m merely pondering them because I’m a planner by nature and Venus’s inevitable retirement has gotten me thinking about – to borrow a sports metaphor – what a winning approach to making life decisions might look like. My father’s approach was to not leap to action. Instead, he insisted on crossing bridges when you come to them. While that makes good sense, it can be easy to deny that you’re at a bridge. Indeed, I think we’ve all seen situations where people have postponed difficult decisions to their detriment.

So, here’s what I’ve come up with based on a strategy I imagine Venus might apply as she faces the end of her tennis career. I think that rather than focus on what’s ending (a 20+ year professional career), she’ll be focusing on making good decisions about the next phase of her life. I think such a positive approach is key. Of course, it remains to be seen whether I’ll be able to apply this strategy when it comes to some of these decisions as they come up in my life. But, I’ll certainly try to.

What about you? What decisions are you facing in the not too distant future? Any insights you can share about how you might approach such decisions?

© 2019 Ingrid Sapona