Jingle Jangle. Mingle, Don't Mangle:

How to mingle with the haughtiest of intellectuals.

Let it be known that 2016 Madison foresaw this blog post might not see the light of day until the year of Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey.

You know, The Greatest Showman-type movie spectacular grounded in truer culture, superior whimsy, and necessary representation now streaming from Netflix to the hearts of many?

If nothing else, revisiting these blog posts from four years former has surely filled some quota for serendipity.

I'm inclined to say I was inspired to write this 'How-To' piece for mingling at scholar gatherings after attending the annual Fulbright Christmas reception in London. Though I'm not sure what kind of authority I thought I was, seeing as I still don't know how to "mingle with the haughtiest of intellectuals."

When I served on the Student Committee for the International Association of Dance Medicine and Science one year later, I eventually visited these sentiments. In preparation for the 27th Annual Conference held in Houston, Texas, I penned 5 Conference Networking Tips to help students make the most of their conference experience.

I thought I was so clever.

Nah, I knew I was making that sh*t up. I'm such an awkward bean. No amount of tips or tricks can help me not be such an awkward bean, especially in crowded (Zoom) rooms of gentlemen and scholars and intimidatingly badass female-identifying folks.

So again, WHO did I think I was trying to bring you tidings of good talking etiquette and cheer?

What I've actually learned in spheres of sages and highbrows is less "present a business card and follow up with a provocative email," and more "joke, just joke, laugh, ha, ha, we're having fun, yaay."

My ACTUAL five tips for networking are as follows:

1. Alcohol helps. A lot.

2. Observe.

3. A person's a person no matter how successful.

4. Being socially awkward is awesome.

5. Volunteer.

Alcohol helps. A lot.

This point is pretty self-explanatory. And I probably shouldn't condone drinking as a form of coping. However, whilst living in London, I found that Brits approached orientations and forums in a way most Americans would not find befitting of academic settings.

While lecturers and professors and deans and headmasters are all technically a student's superiors, the staunch manner in which the American school system preserves this hierarchy makes people who are supposed to support students in their educational journey inaccessible.

But by drinking out of the same cup (metaphorically, of course; the Brits still encourage drinking from separate glasses), the playing field is levelled for authentic connection. As the alcohol flows, so, too, does the conversation.

And the Brits observe this practice straight out the gate. Some of my very first interactions with later lecturers and supervisors were over a glass of wine in a reception hall or over a pint at the pub. Such revelry wasn't reserved for when all studies were completed and us students were no longer students. Don't get me wrong, we certainly celebrated after completing our studies, but it wasn't the forbidden fruit that we were finally permitted to enjoy in the company of our "masters."

I know I'm praising one of the least healthy substances, but I truly believe this approach to connection, even under the auspices of academia, is healthier.

When something is restricted, especially if it is self- or systematically-imposed in decorum, we assume the roles of both the restrictor and the restricted. Our minds split to fill these roles and as a consequence, we feel the whole of resistance when trying to determine our place in social and/or academic structures. (Or maybe that's just me and my obedient, obliger nature. I'd be interested to know how other questioners, upholders, and rebels experience academia.)

I understand the desire to champion safety and boundaries and like, the Law; but again, I'd argue that by breaking the fourth wall to the academic theatre, students might be empowered to engage with their seniors in a more human-y way.

This argument is absolutely aided by the fact that the legal drinking age in the UK is 18. So, I guess it's a cultural thing.

Either way, alcohol helps. And not just with warming up to superiors; it helps initiate peer-to-peer contact as well. (Until you and your peers are five gin and tonics deep at The Duke. Then it is very, very unhelpful.)

Observe.

Seriously, sometimes the most intimidating people to approach are peers. It's expected that superiors might be more knowledgable or experienced or accomplished. But find yourself in the presence of someone from the same model year (aka age) as you, but with a central processing unit (aka brain) that runs gigahertz around yours? Cue Conversation Error Report.

I met a lot of humans in my Fulbright year. A lot of spectacular, courageously quirky, extraordinarily intelligent, and fiercely adventurous humans. And while I could have collapsed into the imposter syndrome I felt SO HARD, I took the opportunity to observe the humans I was surrounded by.

Just so you get a sense of some of the people I observed and befriended:

Candace is the most quick-witted and clued-in human I've ever met. You know how we are continually told there are no stupid questions? Even though we are insidiously taught that there are, in fact, stupid questions, because intelligent questions are always praised? Yeah, Candace's questions should be praised. Candace has turned questioning into an art. Her questions are not merely intellectually gratifying, they're personal and meaningful. She wants to know the colour of your heart, the texture of your experiences, the volume of your thoughts—what's your answer to this and how do you feel about that? It's honestly astonishing to witness. Meanwhile, the only question I can come up with is, "how did you even come up with that question?"

Christen has intrinsic motivation deeper than the Mariana Trench. I remember studying intrinsic and extrinsic motivation theory in psychology one week and then going hiking with Christen the next. For our entire trek through some mountain pass I thought, "so that's what intrinsic motivation looks like. Cool, cool, cool." I huffed and puffed in the wake of Christen's determination and determined that I am definitely extrinsically motivated. Specifically, extrinsically motivated by Christen to achieve that level of intrinsic motivation. Oh, she's also a naval officer, and stunning.

Alisha is hilarious and has a giggle like nectar. BUT SHE IS MIND-BOGGLINGLY smart. Like, I can level with her on some scientific concepts, but the complexity with which she understands such concepts seriously riddles me. The same is true for Maddie. The two of them will assuredly be awarded Nobel Prizes for work in their respective fields. I could go on and on about the research they conducted during our postgraduate year and the research they are currently conducting within their PhD programs. But I actually couldn't, because I don't understand it. LOL. Yet, the most astounding thing about them is that, even with all those smarts monopolising their brain mass, they still manage to be the most grounded, relatable, well-rounded, and service-centred individuals. The way Alisha and Maddie understand and practice the arts is also unfathomable. Maddie is like a concert violinist and heir to musical savants and Alisha knows more about Broadway shows than most Broadway actors. Plus, Maddie is jacked. Who has the time to solve the world's energy efficiency issues AND lift a weight? Not me.

Merritt is not Fulbrighter, but I met her during my Fulbright year, so it counts. It also counts because she could totally be a Fulbrighter. In fact, I think she'll be one of those tenured Fulbright Scholars or MacArthur 'Genius' Grant winners one day. Our first conversation transpired as we tipsily strolled back to our residences after a start-of-the-year scholarship reception hosted by Trinity Laban. I knew she was in the Masters of Choreography programme, but we totes clicked when I found out her background was in Psychology at McGill University (aka the world's leading institute for pain science). Swoon. Merritt is also so very deep and artsy and thoughtful and fun.

Ooookkkaaaay, so my blog posts have turned into me just fan-girling my friends. Have I mentioned I miss real human connection?

Anyway.

As I connected with these sort of humans, I began jotting down specific observations and musings. This encouraged me to keep observing and musing. To my relief, being in awe preoccupies the imposter.

A person's a person no matter how successful.

Okay, so I did touch on this point in my Conference Networking piece (see #4: Everyone is human.)

I'm all for preaching about the value of a human life no matter how small. (Thank you, Horton Hears A Who.) But why aren't we also hammering home the fact that a human is still a human no matter how successful...powerful, famous, accomplished, skilled, wealthy, etc.?

This is a guiding principle to all interactions that involve humans: when you approach and speak to one, take pause to remember that you are one, too. You may not share the same circumstances, but you share the same biological classification. And that's enough.

I'm not above this. Actually, this is the facet of communication in which I struggle the most. I often forget that most people I admire contain a lot of the stuffs I contain, like a literal brain and a literal heart. Sometimes it just takes a second to remind myself that the room is better with me in it. This is simply an affirmation to say that I am as worthy as any other human of being in a room*; whether that be at an audition, a conference, or a party. I may not be the best and brightest in said room, but I will fight you tooth-and-nail to be the punniest.

*Again, room can obviously be substituted with Zoom room, as you do not have to be confined to a physical room in order to feel anxious in the presence of others.

Being socially awkward is awesome and fun.

What I love about social gatherings involving a lot of people you don't know (or do know and are intimidated by) is that they are inherently awkward. Especially for individuals who consider themselves inherently awkward. But my friends, awkwardness is a superpower. Don't avoid the awkward or pretend it doesn't exist. Lean into the awkward. Make it blatant and loud and funny.

Awkwardness is not just a superpower, it is capital. Seriously, the most successful stand-up comedians tell jokes that skewer collective insecurities and roast them on an open fire. "Hey, look at this insecurity chestnut. Kinda cute when its pretentious shell crumbles, eh?"

Being socially awkward also means that you see the world a different way. Perhaps you don't pick up on social cues, but you're a connoisseur of pick-up lines. Or better yet, you pick up on details often missed by the typical schmooze in order to take more systematic approaches to problems. Quite honestly, that's refreshing in a culture hung up on emotional rhetoric.

Not only is there power in accepting awkward situations, there is power in accepting the awkwardness within. Usually if you're in a room with intellectuals, you can be comforted in knowing some level of social awkwardness has guided them to where they are now.

Volunteer.

This is perhaps the most "pragmatic" trick for networking scenarios. The idea is that if you're helping run the joint, you'll never experience that dreaded dead moment of having nothing to do and no one to talk to. When I volunteer or serve on an organising committee, I am provided with a comforting sense of purpose and structure, and a vehicle with which to meet people faster.

Even if I am diving into the deep end of a conference/symposium/seminar/reception/etc., the act of fastidiously figuring out what to do and how to do it usually keeps my mind from fears of worthlessness. Plus, the act of helping another soul navigate through an overwhelming crowd of mouths and minds is pretty darn fulfilling. Empathy, ya know?

And that’s all I got on that.

With love and blessings,

M