How to Be Honest When the Truth Feels Risky...
If we’re being honest, I lie all the time. I lie about why I’m late, why I’m bailing, where I’m going, what I was doing when I didn’t pick up the phone. I lie about things that could potentially hurt feelings, and where I don’t lie, I withhold. But these are white lies — the kind we learn are acceptable just after we master the concept of telling the truth.
Step one in a child’s journey to becoming a better human: Don’t Lie. Step two: Don’t be an asshole. The first step is straight-forward enough, if idealistic. This second step becomes far more complicated as we get older and develop our own values. How does one combine the two?
A thousand Pinterest angels got their cross-stitched-pillow wings the day Kristen Bell said in an interview, “Honesty without tact is cruelty.” The internet loved it because its relatable and validating. “Honesty without tact is cruelty” not only accounts for the sting of truth, it proves that all those white lies we sing every day aren’t just fine, they’re kind.
Over the last few years, relationships — platonic, romantic, even work-related — have made me reconsider how I approach the truth. Time has shown me that interactions between two complicated humans are so much less messy when you’re straightforward about what you want, need, require, expect. It’s a lovely, freeing revelation that, when practiced, allows me to operate as the savviest version of my most enlightened self. But when a situation is particularly tangled, it’s the how of honesty that still chokes me up — as in, how the hell do I tell the truth without making this person mad, without ruining things, without making things awkward?
How do you “just be honest” in the stinging aftermath of having your feelings hurt — when things are mostly otherwise okay between you and the person who hurt them? How do you “just be honest” when a friend says, “I’d like your honest opinion on this monumental life decision,” and your opinion is contradictory to her plan? How do you “just be honest” when you feel threatened? Or when it feels like telling the truth could mean your job is at stake?
Precious V. A, -Truth v Lies, was recommended to me by a colleague for the topic of honesty in particular. When I asked for A for his professional opinion on Kristen Bell’s comment, he put it into his own words: “Honesty is an art.” And to master the brush strokes, he says, you have to know yourself.
A is staunch in his belief that honesty makes life simpler. During our conversation, every time I counter with the merit of white lies (they soften blows, for instance), he directs me back to the virtues of honesty and doubles-down on the benefits of self-reflection. he explains that the better you know yourself, what you’re feeling and why, the more likely you are to express yourself honestly, without the need for calculated tact. he gives an example: “If we’re not in touch with our own anger, then we express honesty that’s aggressive, or passive aggressive.”
It makes so much sense. Even when mad, I’m calmer when I’ve identified the root of what’s pissed me off. From that place, I’m able to articulate what frustrated me and open up the floor for healing dialogue. Still, the “how” continues to haunt me — it’s much easier said than done — so I asked A for a guide, so to speak, to use the next time I find myself needing to be honest when the truth feels complicated.
Step 1: Endeavor to understand your own feelings.
“We have to give ourselves permission to feel a range of emotions,” he says. “We’re not simplistic beings. We feel love and hate simultaneously. We feel gratitude and anger. It’s a mistake when we try to make ourselves simpler than we are. The better we know ourselves, the better we can communicate how we wish to express ourselves.”
He explains that once we understand the root of our own emotions, the next step (communicating them) comes a little easier. It allows us to assess whether we need to say something — those guttural flags that shout, “Something’s not right!” — or whether this one can be brushed aside. (For example, if your little sister paints you an ugly picture, you do not need to tell her that you won’t be hanging it on your fridge later.)
Step 2: Choose the most respectful approach depending on the situation.
When I bring up that old childhood saying, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all,” A tells me it’s not a rule to live by. “Not speaking up could backfire,” he says, while noting there could also be consequences to honesty. In every scenario, A advises you prioritise self-protection and filter your honesty through the lens of integrity.
As for finesse, the art part of honesty, A says to ask yourself some questions: “Am I being sensitive? Am I being kind? [In the case of friend or partner], am I being loving? Am I saying it for the right reasons?” He points out that if no one asked themselves these questions, the whole world would be in chaos.
Step 3: Express your own vulnerability.
Where it’s appropriate, here’s your tact: Communicating, “I’m taking a risk by telling the truth,” allows for complete honesty without sugarcoating, but it lets the person you’re being honest with know you’re coming from a place of vulnerability.
Step 4: Be open to the person’s response.
“But what if the person I’m trying to be honest with — a close friend, for example — gets mad?” I ask A.
“Be willing to stay in there,” he says. “Don’t just drop your honesty and run away.” In other words, if you’re going to be honest with someone, come prepared to express yourself. He explains that your “mad friend” may counter-argue, get defensive, get upset, but that doesn’t mean the conversation’s over. You deserve to tell your side of the story. You deserve to speak up. And for what it’s worth, he suggests using language about how you feel, rather than what your friend did “to make you” feel that way. Remove accusations and the recipient of your honesty is less likely to go on the defence.
Step 5: Ignoring your emotions won’t help your cause.
“You’ll have a bigger mess later if you repress your feelings,” says A. He suggests trying to clean them up as you go along. Don’t swallow your emotions. Identify, respect, validate and feel them. You deserve to voice your truth. Which brings us back to step 1: Knowing yourself.
“It’s really scary to be honest,” he says. “It’s hard to be authentic. Stand up for what you believe. To be really real, I think, is courageous.”
Since our conversation, I’ve tried to “practice” tactful honesty: honouring my feelings, saying what I mean, being kind in these interactions while staying true and remaining staunch in my beliefs. (This sounds dramatic but it can be as simple as, “I prefer the colour purple.”) It takes creativity in addition to the introspection, but as A says, it’s an art — and sometimes artistic expression is difficult. You don’t go from child to better human immediately, so when in doubt, I remind myself: just don’t be an asshole. It’s a start.
