Walt Whitman never said that

I'm not judging, I'm just asking. (I'm judging.)

Jul 21, 2026

As much as I would like to say I’m not judgmental, my face betrays me every time. So then words have to come in to do some heavy lifting: “obviously, I’m not judging at all when I say…” And because of my many past facial responses, even over text I have to assume people who know me well can picture my expression perfectly (Jeff can actually do the inverse too: he can see my face while typing and guess who I’m writing to and how I feel about the topic at hand).

So when our oldest was sharing some of the options available on a dating app in Portland, I found myself repeatedly saying “I’m asking from a place of curiosity and not judgment.” Because, what else does one say in response to a picture of an individual wearing a jester’s hat and playing a recorder that they proactively shared with people to find a romantic partner (or multiple in this new polyamorous world?) However, there’s a piece that I don’t say out loud: at home, the not-judging gets announced. Everywhere else, it doesn’t.

With a “Ted Lasso” rewatch underway in advance of season four coming out next month, I was reminded by Ted that Walt Whitman said “be curious, not judgmental.” Although, diligent and dedicated Substacker that I am, I did google to confirm the quote and learned that Walt Whitman never said that. Thank goodness I asked.

I am, by nature, incredibly curious. I am, in fact, far more curious than judgmental because I truly want to know everything. Last year I went on a whole deep dive to confirm what the name of my color of L.L. Bean Deluxe backpack used in 1997 was. When my friends were split between forest and spruce, I contacted L.L. Bean directly. The answer was spruce and I legitimately think I would have lost sleep had I not known the truth.

Arguably, being curious is why I’m good at my job: most of the time, asking questions forces someone to reconsider their approach without needing to say “the way you’re currently doing this is terrible.”

In my personal life, I announce the lack of judgment. I say it out loud, to my kids, to Jeff, to whoever’s in the room: I’m not judging, I’m just asking. The announcement is the point since I want credit for my considerable restraint.

In my professional life, I do the opposite. Recently a client and I had been circling the same thing for weeks — I kept trying to ask the questions that would get us there, and we kept sidestepping it. Then I landed the knockout punch: “is it possible you were doing this job purely for the money and trying to justify staying there with other rationale?” The answer: yes.

I never announced any of it. I said nothing, let my face go neutral, and asked the question anyway — because the second a client can tell I’m judging, they defend instead of answer. That’s the whole strategy: conceal the judgment, on purpose, the same way I’d conceal a hand of cards. It’s the same move as talking to my kids, just minus the disclaimer.

At home, though, I don’t remotely have that level of restraint. My mother’s phrase I repeat most often is “look with your eyes and not your mouth” — which started as her answer to “where’s my [insert random object/form/pair of glasses here]?” but by the time I was raising my own kids, it had grown into shorthand for “try it yourself before you outsource the effort to me.” So much for being far more curious than judgmental; it turns out that only holds when the curiosity is mine. The second someone else is the curious one, I skip the question and go straight to the ruling.

Like when Jeff and I were out and a kid at home texted us: “which light switch turns on the outside light?” Clearly flipping all three switches on/off would have answered that question way faster than a text would have, but we were still seen as such authorities that it was asked. That was an example of someone being curious and me offering nothing but judgment in return. I texted back: “God helps those who help themselves.”