Why the Chat Box is My Secret Weapon
The chat box is my secret weapon
I was recently asked how I’ve adapted my facilitation during the pandemic. And I realized that the biggest shift in my practice has been the attention I now place on creating psychological togetherness in virtual settings as quickly as possible. For me, the best tool to do that stitching is also the simplest: the chat box.
When we gather in person, numerous (often unconscious) factors contribute to a sense of togetherness. A physical journey transports us between worlds: a drive, an airplane ride, a walk down the hall. On entering, we pick up endless silent cues about each other — what folks are wearing, where they’re sitting, how they're moving their bodies. We see micro-expressions of choice: Earl Grey tea in a beloved mug, a Starbucks iced coffee, a new almond regimen. In our virtual gatherings, we lose so much of this social, orienting context. As hosts, we need to create it.
Three ways to turn an audience into a community at your next virtual gathering
I recently led a virtual learning session attended by thousands of therapists and organizational coaches. The session was streaming, and the participants could see the speakers, but not each other. But they had a chat box.
This large-group setup of a virtual one-to-many gathering is now a regular occurrence across many communities. Think: a rabbi, priest, or imam addressing congregants on a livestream, a principal welcoming parents over Zoom for a Back-to-School night, guests attending a virtual wedding. It's easy for this experience, despite dozens of people coming together, to not feel communal. But with just a few simple and proactive moves, you can transform an anonymous audience into a community. Here’s what I did (at least, as much as I remember).
1. Connect your guests in the chat box within the first 5% of the gathering
Without commutes and doorways, we whiplash between virtual gatherings without a moment to shift gears.
I wanted to cleanse guests' proverbial virtual palates, so I asked them to close their eyes, take a couple of breaths, and press their feet (if available) into the surface beneath. I asked them to notice any sounds in their environment. And then I got to work using the chat box.
I had them type in three words:
the town or city where they were joining from
the space where they were taking the call
the floor material currently underneath them
All of a sudden, dozens of answers appeared (with their names.) Toledo! São Paulo! Delhi! Vancouver! Hong Kong! Asheville! Trenton! Living room, dining room, bike path, study, kitchen table, bed, parent’s basement. Wood, carpet, linoleum, tiles, sand, grass. I read a portion aloud, quickly and with energy, to allow everyone to hear the many worlds and realities in the session.
Instead of pretending they were all in the same place, we could highlight the specificity (and reality) of difference.
2. Remind your guests that they have a body
This humble prompt (town, space, floor) punches above its weight. It reminds people they have a body, and so does every other guest. It locates them in the specificity of place. These are real people! With feet! It makes a potentially disembodied, anonymous group embodied, specific and real even when they can’t see each other.
3. Ask questions that invite specificity and are answerable in a word or phrase
I then asked the following four questions designed to make the group feel like a group (and had them answer in the chat):
“What do you hear right now?”
Construction workers, dogs, children, lawnmowers, an air purifier, waves, birds. A vacuum cleaner. Silence.
“Who did you need to check with to be here today with no other obligations?” (It happened to be a Saturday.)
Partner, children, dog sitter, siblings, no one, I live by myself. This question can create a spark of gratitude for the person, reminds the group that this time together is fought-for, and also invites other relational identities. (These aren’t just professional peers. They are also caregivers and carpool drivers and choir singers and dog-lovers).
“If you could play this group a song to evoke a specific emotion that you think is appropriate for this moment, what would it be?”
Again, suddenly, the chat box filled with songs and musical artists. Leonard Cohen, Pink, Beyonce, Taylor Swift, Sweet Honey in the Rock. This question does two things: First, the song titles expand the emotional tenor of the room. Second, the phrasing gets each guest to briefly read the room and care for the group. Bonus: you could share the playlist after the session, like a party favor.
And finally: “If you weren’t following your current path, what else might you be pursuing?”
There were dancers, innkeepers, gardeners, and travel writers among us. This question creates a sense of expansion and possibility. We are each more multi-faceted than perhaps assumed.
Even if the rest of the session features just one speaker, you’ve built the room. Asking questions early on also warms up the chat box for the rest of the event.
You certainly don’t need to ask these specific questions. (The last two we created for this group and were riffs off of Esther Perel’s wonderful new game.)
What are some of your favorite chat box questions, or other ways you create psychological togetherness as we approach the holiday season?
A free guide for your hybrid gatherings.
The chat box is a powerful tool for hybrid gatherings too. I've put together a free, downloadable guide you can come back to again and again when planning hybrid gatherings. Get it here and feel free to share the link with friends.
In Case You Missed It
This time last year, I appeared on the long-running food podcast “The Splendid Table,” where I discussed the in’s and out’s of virtual family gatherings. The episode aired again last week, and it’s still as relevant as ever. Give it a listen at the link above.
Inspirations
Atlas Obscura’s new online courses start this week. You can learn how to write a murder mystery, pick a lock, read a gravestone, cook ancient recipes, and more. I love these topics because they fuel one’s sense of wonder, spark genuine curiosity, and will give you something to talk about at your next dinner party.
Author Tessa Fontaine is teaching a workshop on “The Art of Death,” which will take an interdisciplinary approach to death and dying and explore ideas about mortality from around the world.
