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 listening to people who know their communities better than we ever could. The business owner who knows every merchant on the block. The longtime resident who remembers why something is the way it is. The property owner who can get another property owner on the phone. The person who shows up to every meeting, and the person who finally shows up because someone took the time to ask them personally.
They notice things. They know things. And they don't always agree.
That's the work.
Not arriving with all the answers, but creating the conditions for people to put what they know on the table, find the connections and decide what they're going to do with them.
Because a survey response doesn’t clean a street. Recognizing that a business is struggling doesn’t help keep its doors open. Knowing that someone is missing from the conversation doesn’t bring them into the room.
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.
We talk a lot about “community building,” but sometimes I wonder whether “building” is even the right word. The communities we work with already contain extraordinary amounts of knowledge, relationships, energy and leadership. We aren't creating those things.
Often, we're helping activate what is already there.
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.
At Perch, the projects and neighborhoods change, but I think that idea is remarkably consistent in our work. Connect people. Share the tools. Create some momentum. Then help build the capacity for that momentum to continue without us.
After many years doing this work—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.
That is the ripple effect we hope to create at Perch. Not to be the voice of a community, but to help connect and activate the voices that are already there.
So, yes: if you see something, say something.
Speak it into existence.
And then do something with it!