In Civity workshops, we get a lot of questions about what civity looks like in “real life.” Sometimes we hear, “we all know that building connections across difference is important, but what does that look like in the day-to-day?”
I clearly remember an “aha moment” from a couple of years ago when I first became a Civity trainer. Following a demonstration workshop, a participant emailed me with a straightforward question: “What’s next? Is Civity just a one-and-done workshop?”
In my next one-on-one meeting with Civity’s Co-Founder, Malka Ranjana Kopell, I asked her how to respond to this question, unsure myself. She said this: “Civity is a practice. It’s about building capacity and constantly considering ways to bring civity into a meeting, an event, even a conversation.”
Her response was grounding, illuminating, and exactly what I needed to hear in order to conceptualize Civity not just as an organization, but as a way of engaging with the world. Until this sentiment clicks, you may view Civity’s workshops as a mere training opportunity. However – once you have your aha moment – you will always notice where you feel civity within your day. Let me walk you through a recent civity experience to paint you a picture.
I was walking home from my favorite coffee shop, a little less than a mile away from my home. When I turned the corner, I discovered another person was turning the corner across the street from me at the exact same moment. We smiled awkwardly at each other because our movement felt synchronized for a second – then we kept walking. After five minutes of walking parallel to each other in the same direction, I made an intentional decision to practice civity.
Civity’s definition: a culture of deliberately engaging in relationships of respect and empathy with others who are different.
The person walking across from me was visibly different: Gender, race, and age immediately stood out. These surface differences could easily create barriers, keeping connection at arm’s length. But why is that? The fear of difference is an illusion. If we’re honest, much of that fear stems from our own insecurities – fear of rejection or of being misunderstood or judged. As humans, we naturally gravitate toward those who are like us – who look, think, speak, and believe as we do – because it’s comfortable. Familiarity requires less effort; we don’t have to ask deep questions, challenge our thinking, or reflect on who we are. It feels safer somehow. But in choosing comfort, we miss the richness that complexity brings.
I decided to break the ice…
“Hey, how much longer are you walking in this direction? Because in another block, it’s going to feel really awkward to keep ignoring each other.”
He burst out laughing and matched my bid for connection. “I’ve got another 10 blocks – want to join me over here?” And just like that, we were walking together, not just across from one another.
In the span of 15 minutes, we shared pieces of our lives – his experience as a 20-year-old parent, funny stories about dogsitting his mom’s pet, and everything in between. When it was time for him to turn left, he looked me in the eye with a genuine smile and said, “Hey, thanks for that.”
I walked away with a warmth that lingered long after. It struck me how simple it was – one intentional choice, one moment of courage outside my comfort zone. That brief encounter reminded me of a profound truth: connection doesn’t erase differences, but it can bridge them. In a world that often feels divided, the act of reaching out – of walking together instead of apart – might just be the quiet power that brings us closer. That’s civity in “real life.”