Are we being asked to think before responding? Or are we being lured into instant debate?

I was sitting on a bench typing notes into my phone in the midst of the exhibition “Faith Ringgold: American People” at the de Young Museum in San Francisco. For me, it was a joy, and pure inspiration to view, learn more about, and sit surrounded by 50 years of Ms. Ringgold’s work. The exhibition, spread across several rooms, included quilts, textiles, paintings, sculpture, and material from her activist work. There was a letter addressed to the Brooklyn Museum of Art, challenging its curatorial leanings, which were less than inclusive of art by women and people of color. There were photos of Faith Ringgold and her daughters walking with women artists holding signs during a protest in front of the Whitney Museum during its 1970 modernist art exhibition that did not include any women artists or African American artists. I was moved and inspired as I slowly made my way through the exhibition, taking moments to sit and savor these gifts of art and resistance. Faith Ringgold passed away at the age of 93 on April 12, 2024.

As I sat, typing my notes, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a foot encased in a sandal suddenly appear beside me, to my left. The skin of the foot appeared to be that of a white person. The thought of the strangeness of wearing sandals in November briefly flitted across my mind. Although November in Northern California is a lot milder than it is in other regions, things are still a little on the brisk side and a chill, however slight, has entered the air. And then, a male voice asked, “Can I ask you a question?” I paused as I thought “Uh oh, here it comes, yet another request as I sit here, minding my business.” I’d been quietly enjoying an incredible exhibition, and here was this young white-appearing man asking to insert himself in that. After the pause in which I gave myself some space and time to consider whether I wanted to answer his question, which I was sort of leery of, I said “It depends upon what the question is.” And then I said, “Go ahead.” In my mind, I thought, “I’m not going to answer if the question is either intrusive, bonkers, or just plain disrespectful.” I also wondered why he decided to ask me, when there was a gallery filled with people. Was I the only Black person in that particular part of the gallery? Did I look like I was approachable? How was that even possible, when my head was down, and I was typing furiously on my phone?

It turns out that his question was a little on the strange side. He asked me whether it was right that the museum had so much gold and wealth in it. His question began with the phrase “Don’t you think ________” I blinked several times and looked at him for a few minutes because I couldn’t fathom where this question was coming from or where he’d come from. The room we were sitting in was filled with Faith Ringgold’s work, and several rooms deep into the multi-room exhibition. The de Young Museum has multiple floors and many galleries. I had been in the middle of immersing myself for a good chunk of time in a retrospective of 50 years of an African American woman artist and activist’s work. I was reflecting on her work, the timeline the exhibition covered, social issues connected to the timeline and Faith Ringgold’s work and how they were connected to my life. I was loving my process. And here was this guy wanting to start a discussion about the gold he’d seen elsewhere in the museum, if that was even the case. Was he even paying attention to what was in front of him, to his position in space? Was he from outer space? I responded that I was inspired at the work I was interacting with in Faith Ringgold’s exhibition, and I was honored to walk through 50 years of her work. He pressed on with “Yeah, but don’t you think?” I don’t remember my exact response to his inability to let his mission go and let me be, but I do remember staying focused on the exhibition and the room we were sitting in. That’s why I was there, and I was grateful to be able to be there. I was grateful for Faith Ringgold.

Young, sandal-wearing white-appearing guy wasn’t really asking me what I thought. He was asking me whether I agreed with what he thought. And somewhere in his question was the belief that because of my appearance I might get into a discussion of gold, pillage, history, colonialism with him. He rephrased his question several times and referred to these issues. But I wasn’t there for that. I was there to celebrate a Black Woman artist and activist’s work. I was there to see how she’d celebrated all of us with 50 years of her work. I was there to have my cup filled with inspiration. So, I stayed true to my mission and didn’t center my attention on the ideas and needs of a young white-appearing man who had a different mission than mine. Eventually, he said “Thank you,” got up from the bench and walked away. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned to fill my vision with the story quilts from Tar Beach.

“Don’t you think _______?” has a prearranged thought that is always inserted in the blank. It is based on what the person making the query thinks and is mostly crafted to garner agreement or disagreement. It can be used to set up a debate rather than an invitation to a discussion. The person being queried is persuaded to either answer “Yes” or “No” and add some idea of why they have chosen their stance. If someone really wants to know what another person thinks, they’ll ask “What do you think?” or “What do you think about ______?”

I’m a thoughtful person and I like to consider before answering my questions. Of course, if I’m being asked whether I’d like a milk chocolate or a dark chocolate truffle, I don’t have to think about it. Dark chocolate all the way. But most of the ideas, issues, choices I’m asked about these days are not simple, and they require consideration before I can answer. At least this is true in my experience. So, I welcome questions that provide me with some space and time to consider, to think about all that is involved in the topic to the best of my ability. I neither want or need to get inside someone else’s head or hear their opinion before I take the time to consider what is in my own head and true for me. I hope that more of us will take the time to ask questions that lead to discussion rather than to debate. “Don’t you think?” just encourages poverty of thought.

Note: another version of this essay appears on my Substack