What Comes After You Notice?

If you’ve spent any amount of time in New York City, you know the phrase: If you see something, say something.

After living here for all these years, I’ve heard it more times than I could count. On subway platforms, in stations, over loudspeakers. It has become part of the background noise of being a New Yorker.

But lately I’ve been thinking about the sentiment behind it.

Pay attention. Trust what you see. And when something needs to be said, say it.

Maybe that resonates with me because of who I am. I’m a New Mexican (IYKYK) who has made a life in New York. I come from a grandmother who certainly wasn't afraid to speak her mind. I’m a Gemini, for anyone who believes that explains anything. I’ve lived what sometimes feels like many lives along the way. And through all of them, I’ve learned that I would rather tell you what I think and how I feel than leave something important unsaid.

That doesn’t mean I’ve always known exactly what to say.

Being able to speak honestly requires its own kind of work. For me, that has meant years of introspection, listening, making mistakes, changing my mind, learning who I am and becoming more comfortable saying what I actually mean. There is a difference between simply having something to say and understanding yourself well enough to know why you are saying it.

I value that honesty in other people, too. Say the thing. Put it on the table. Give the idea a name. Speak it into existence.

Because once something is spoken out loud, we can actually do something with it.

That feels especially true in the work we do at Perch Advisors. We spend a lot of time with people who know their communities, know what matters to them and, very often, know what needs to change.

They notice things. They know things. And they don't always agree.

That's the work.

But noticing something is only the beginning.

Someone eventually has to make the call, knock on the door, make the introduction, organize the meeting, volunteer, ask another question or follow up for what feels like the hundredth time.

Attention has to become action.

And what I’ve learned is that the action doesn’t always have to be ours.

The communities we work with already contain extraordinary amounts of knowledge, relationships, energy and leadership. One person says something out loud and another says, “I’ve been thinking that too.” Two people become five. Someone knows who to call. Someone else remembers what was tried before. Another person hasn't done this before but is willing to learn.

They're speaking something into existence together.

And then comes my favorite part: the ripple.

The person you motivated motivates someone else. The person you trained becomes the trainer. Someone who learned how to navigate a process turns around and helps their neighbor navigate it. The person who once needed to be asked to participate becomes the person doing the asking.

That, to me, is community activation. And it’s one of the things I love most about this work.

After many years doing it, and many years doing my own work, I’ve also learned that leadership isn't about always being the loudest person in the room.

Speaking your mind and making space for someone else to find their voice are not opposites.

Sometimes you need to say the thing. Sometimes you need to make room for somebody else to say it. And sometimes you need to recognize when it's time to get out of the way and let them run with it.

I’ll probably always be someone who speaks his mind. New Mexico gave me part of that. My grandmother gave me a whole lot of it. New York certainly sharpened it. Maybe being a Gemini gets some credit too.

But the older I get, the less interested I am in speaking simply to be heard.

I want what we say to do something.

To make room for another voice. To connect people who might not otherwise find one another. To turn an observation into an idea, an idea into a conversation, and a conversation into action.

So, yes: if you see something, say something.

Speak it into existence.

And then do something with it!

That is the ripple effect we hope to create at Perch. Not to speak for communities, but to help turn what we hear into momentum—and help that momentum travel further than us.