Uncommon Knowledge – C.J. Larkin
As told to Jeannette Batz Cooperman
Photograph by Mark Gilliland
C.J. Larkin worked in politics and as a public defender, ran two domestic-violence agencies and now teaches mediation at the Washington University School of Law—but her first lesson in conflict resolution came when her family moved to Baton Rouge, La.: “I went from being Little Miss Everything—cheerleader, class vice president—to being the new girl who was seen as a boyfriend-stealer.” It was a lesson in relativity and false assumptions. “I no more deserved to be queen of the May than I deserved to be the scarlet woman,” she says with a grin. “And it also gave me a little lesson in politics.”
I’ve always been pretty compassionate for the underdog, because my brothers were always getting into scrapes and I had to defend them.
If I told my family about someone getting beaten up, their first question was always, “So what did you do?”
I realized that I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of our side versus their side. I like working from the middle out.
In my family, emotions were pesky and problematic. You got to be sad for 15 minutes, and then you were supposed to buck up.
Most people’s repertoire of emotional language is very limited. We express two emotions: OK and pissed off.
It’s easy to answer anger with anger. My instinctive reaction, if my kids are crabby in the morning, is, “Excuse me, are you talking to the person who just made you eggs?”
People don’t know how to apologize. They tend to say, “I’m really sorry you have a problem with what happened.” No! We need coaching in apologizing.
I wanted to be a lawyer or a journalist. I’d imagine myself wearing leather and a beret as an investigative reporter, then flip over to L.A. Law. It became a fashion issue.
I went to Mizzou and got seduced into broadcast journalism. The sound of my own voice was irresistible. And then I thought, “This isn’t writing; this is typing.” So I called the law school and said, “Can I still come?”
In my twenties, I was like a pinball. Career-wise, my best decision was deciding that it was OK to want to be a peacemaker.
My assumption in marriage is that my job is to help you have the life you want to have, and vice versa.
My brothers used to say, “You can’t stand somebody you can push around, but you won’t let anybody push you around”—and they said it like, “You are doomed.” Well, how about the option where we don’t push each other around at all ... or we take turns?
I’m trying to give people more space in conversation. I download in paragraphs, which can be a little overwhelming, so I try to stop talking and count to five. OK, maybe three.
I’m not a control freak. I’m a freedom freak.
Divorce is this protean organic thing. I don’t mean to sound like somebody who likes to slow down for car wrecks, but each one of them is different and fascinating.
People get divorced when they realize, “I am more alone in this marriage than I would be alone.”
Our generation is divorcing a little better; we’re more conscious of how our kids are going to feel—although I see plenty of debris.
The biggest cause of conflict escalating is attribution of motive. It’s not just what you did; it’s why you did what you did.
There’s nothing like suing somebody to alienate them for the rest of your life.
My daughter used to say, “You don’t believe in the death penalty except for impoliteness.”
I’m lucky: I have instant karma. Consequences come the minute I do something wrong. I don’t even have to wait for the lesson.
