On Tears in Public

Should we apologize?

Why do people apologize when they cry?

You’ve seen it, right? You may have even done it.

A conversation comes around to a tender spot for you or someone else, and unbidden tears rise and the voice breaks. It might be in a business setting or a casual setting. The person takes a beat, looks down or to the side, swipes an eye, and utters, “I’m sorry.”

For what?

Is it shameful to cry? Have we offended or harmed our companions when we do?

At work we talk about the business at hand, as we should. It’s not our therapist’s office or our friend’s couch where it’s more appropriate to reveal more of ourselves. We often bifurcate ourselves into the professional self and the personal self. We think this is expected. And to some extent it is, in order to get done what needs to be done toward a common goal. But does that mean our personal selves are walled off at work? Is that why people apologize when the barrier weakens and tears leak out?

Why do we apologize?

What’s behind apologies for crying? Maybe it’s due to believing some of these false narratives:

Tears are a sign of weakness. Some of the strongest people I’ve known cried. And shaming a person who cries, even silently, does not make us strong. Related to this is the idea that it’s childish to cry. Or that it’s not manly to cry. Who told us this? They were wrong.

My tears will make other people feel bad. We are each responsible for our own emotions. I am not responsible for yours; you are not responsible for mine. If we are empathetic, we do “feel with” others. And this is a good thing. But empathy does not require us to step in and try to “fix” another person’s deep emotion. In fact, unsolicited attempts to fix other people generally are not helpful or healthy, for them or us. When we do that, we add an additional burden to the person already experiencing something heavy--the burden to protect us. We can reinforce the safety to be vulnerable by being emotionally intelligent enough to simply see and acknowledge their emotion of the moment.

Tears reveal a soft spot we need to protect. This is true, actually, and in some environments it’s also true that it’s not safe to reveal soft spots. We don’t want to reveal to others what matters deeply to us. We don’t trust them with that knowledge. Collaboration and community require a foundation of trust. Our challenge is to create environments of safety in both our professional and personal lives. The organizational benefit? People stay where they feel safe and seen. People work better together to find solutions and create. When it’s safe to be vulnerable, courage grows, which plays out in other ways as well. We live in a time when trust is at a historic low in our culture. Expanding ripples of trust makes us better humans and culture-changers in the best, most positive sense.

What good are tears?

What if we accepted the rightful place of what tears communicate in the workplace or in the board room? What could we gain?

Tears that sneak up on us signal what matters deeply to us. When I’m journaling or speaking and unbidden tears rise from behind my eyes, I know I’ve touched on something significant to me. “Pay attention here,” they alert me. It’s a signal to delve deeper, not to shut it down. Sometimes I pay better attention than other times, due to emotional energy at the time, but that doesn’t negate the truth being revealed. In a group, if people feel safe with each other and tears break through, we are entrusted with valuable information about our colleagues and sometimes about the impact of our corporate culture or strategies. With this information, we can improve our organizations.

Tears are evidence that we are human and we’re alive. Humans have emotions. This is built-in, natural, and good. To the extent we’ve steeled ourselves not to feel, we are robbing ourselves and others of the richness of our humanity. Sometimes tears are a logical response to the circumstances of our lives. Let’s remember, too, that more than one emotion can elicit tears. I’ve cried when I’m happy, sad, scared, angry, loving – I’ll bet you have, too. It’s wise to not assume we know the source of someone else’s tears unless they have told us. All emotions serve a purpose.

Bottom line: trust

For an organization—or a family, or a neighborhood--to be a safe place to reveal what matters to us, to be vulnerable enough even to cry a bit, we need to trust each other not to hurt or take advantage of our soft spots. Then the more we practice sharing as humans, the deeper trust grows. It’s not easy, but that’s how it works.

Trust has to begin somewhere. It’s easier if you build it in from the start and reinforce it as a core value. Repairing trust is more challenging, but it can be done with intention and patience. I’ve seen it happen. (Let’s talk if this is your need; I would love to help with restorative communication.)

The deep meaning is real. Tears and the emotions behind them are real. They will pass, but when they appear they give us valuable insight.

Can we tolerate the occasional breakthrough of our core humanity in our organizational settings? If not, our full humanity isn’t welcome there either. And that’s just sad.

To apologize for crying is to apologize for being human.

If you’re with me and your tears leak out, don’t apologize.

Note: If you want further evidence, I highly recommend Susan Cain’s book, Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole.