Welcome to One Thing Better. Each week, the editor in chief of Entrepreneur magazine (that’s me) shares one way to achieve a breakthrough at work — and build a career or company you love.
Last week, I got an upsetting email from a reader.
Today, I’ll share it with you — along with what I wrote back.
The primary topic is parenting, and what makes a good parent.
But I’m sharing it for a bigger reason: It represents a problem about how people judge each other.
I want to show you how, and why, I generally respond when I’m judged unfairly. And I hope it helps you navigate your own moments like this — because arguing will often only make it worse. But that doesn’t mean you must remain silent.
But first, here’s the context
Our story begins with last week’s newsletter.
I wrote about my wife and I traveling to Portugal, and how special the trip was to us. Our kids were away at sleepaway camp (they just got back), marking the first time in 11 years that we could travel at length by ourselves.
I used that story to illustrate the value of joyful anticipation. And I offered a framework for maximizing joy — by scheduling small, medium, and large events on your calendar, so that you always have things to look forward to. I also gave some examples of things I look forward to.
The newsletter was published last Tuesday morning. And then…
I got an email from Nate
Nate isn’t his real name. He’s a subscriber to this newsletter. I don’t know him.
Here’s his email in full:
Nothing in here says anything about anticipating anything with or involving your children.
Thats sad.
Parenting, I would argue, is the single greatest joy full of tiny, huge, and everything in between sizes of joy. The payoffs are well worth it.
I’m not saying parents don’t need a break from their parental duties, but to talk about joy without including ANY moments with kids, communicates that the greatest joys in life are selfish joys, with the least amount of responsibilities and the highest amount of dopamine hits strung together.
That isn’t a life of joy + wisdom. It’s a life of chasing teen eager level payoffs.
Please write a piece that puts this trip to Portugal in a better frame.
I don’t get mad often. But this letter infuriated me.
I have been a dutiful, attentive, loving parent for 11 years. Then I got three weeks to enjoy time alone with my wife. But Nate, a total stranger, has decided that I am shallow and selfish — and that he is the authority on what I should feel. Then he tells me to put my special experience “in a better frame.”
This is unacceptable behavior, Nate.
I have a belief, which I hold firm to: You do not tell other people how to feel.
My wife and I talk about this quite a bit, actually. If we disagree about something, we confront it head on. If we feel wronged, we say so. But we do not invalidate the other person’s feelings. The person feels how they feel. They deserve the space to feel that way. That’s the only true way forward.
Could I have just ignored Nate? Sure. But for reasons I’ll explain later, I prefer to engage.
So I wrote back to Nate
I took a deep breath. I calmed myself. Then I sent this:
Hi Nate,
Thanks for the feedback. You’re right, that would have been wise to include.
But let me share something a little personal: I’ve noticed that, when parents discuss the challenges of parenting or their own adult needs, they feel the need to caveat it all over the place — stressing to whoever’s listening, or wherever they’re writing, that yes, they love their kids, and yes, parenting is a meaningful experience. “But…” they’ll say next, almost sheepishly and quietly, feeling ashamed to want anything other than to be a parent, or fearing the judgment and condemnation of other parents, as if their adult needs somehow lessen their commitment to parenting.
I’ve always thought that is sad, and it inhibits parents’ abilities to really connect as people and share in the fully complex and robust experience that parenting (or just being an adult) is. I think it’s OK for us to want a lot of different things in our life, and to not be embarrassed or ashamed for wanting them. And I don’t think that life is a zero-sum game — as if our appreciation for one thing means that we are appreciating something else less. I also don’t think we need to prove our parental love to others, to assure them that we’re on the “right” side of those people’s feelings.
For that reason, I never tell other parents how to feel, or how to talk about parenting. I don’t think that’s fair. It’s a journey, and everyone’s is a little different. I am very glad for yours. And I do not appreciate your harsh judgment of mine, when all I was trying to do was share a little of my joy.
You might not be surprised to learn: Nate never wrote me back.
Why I wrote Nate in the first place
I’ve written for audiences for decades. I’ve gotten a lot of judgmental emails in return. So I’ve developed a playbook for dealing with them.
Before I share it, though, let’s back up and ask: Why does someone like Nate write that?
My answer begins in 2022. That’s when a woman named Rosie posted this on Twitter:
Cute, right? The groom clearly meant it playfully and lovingly.
But the internet flipped out. Thousands of people replied, condemning the couple. A wellness author tweeted that “no matter how much they love each other, these communication styles signal a short marriage.” To which Rosie, the author of the tweet, wisely replied: “you were not at the wedding also you don’t know these people.”
I learned about this on the newsletter Garbage Day, where author Ryan Broderick made a compelling point: “I think there are two things happening here that have become so prevalent online that we don’t even really register how weird they are anymore: One, we assume that everything we are seeing in a piece of content is somehow representative of the entire situation. And, two, weirdly enough, we also think there must be more to the story than how it’s being portrayed and that if we dig into the piece of content deeper we can reveal that truth.”
Of course, this isn’t just an internet problem. We often hear a small amount of information, think we know the whole picture, and believe that we’re seeing an overlooked problem. This is the root of gossip and distrust. We’re all guilty of it, to some degree. (And I’ve written about it before.)
People like Nate just can’t keep it to themselves. He saw something I wrote, decided he had all the information necessary to judge me, and identified a deeper truth that only he could reveal.
So, what should we do about this?
Here’s often my approach: I reply, following a very specific formula. Then I air it in public, like I’m doing now.
So let’s talk about that formula.
Whenever I reply to someone who’s upset, I always do this:
- I validate them in some way, to show that they’ve been heard. In this case I told Nate that, yes, I could have mentioned more about parenting.
- I respond to their main point. But instead of rebutting what they said, I share my perspective. I don’t tell them what to do; that would just repeat their own mistake. Instead, I just share what I do, and what I value.
- I turn their judgment back onto them. I end by telling them that I accept their own choices, and do not appreciate the way they’ve disrespected mine.
Why does this formula work? Because it makes them feel heard (which is what they want), doesn’t put them on the defensive, and then shows them a better way to behave. Nate didn’t reply to me, but many people actually do — and they almost always apologize.
Obviously, I’m not saying you must do this. You do not owe these people your time. And some people are just spoiling for a fight, so replying will only encourage them.
But when appropriate, I see it as a kind of public service. If I can stop Nate from sending more judgmental emails to others, that’s worth my 10 minutes. And frankly, it’s also good diplomacy training. I’ve learned how to navigate challenging people, because I’ve learned what happens when I directly engage them.
And then I share it publicly
Today, I’m sharing this in my newsletter. I don’t always do that, of course. Sometimes I just share these emails on LinkedIn or Instagram, or forward them to colleagues, or read them aloud at dinner with friends.
Here’s why: When someone like Nate emails you, they want to rob you of control. Nate said so directly: He wants me to put my vacation “in a better frame” — and of course, he’ll be the judge of what “better” is.
But shame only thrives in the shadows.
When you share someone’s mean email with others, you claim ownership of their words. You can share however you’d like, in whatever context you feel is best. You are in control. It’s now your story to tell.
You don’t need to do this overtly publicly. But when someone shames you, don’t suffer it silently. Tell those you love. Forward it around. Drag it into the sunlight, where judgment shrivels and dies.
There will always be people like Nate. And you can always rise above them.
That’s how to do one thing better.
