What is Your FAQ?
Dear Curious Minds,
I am still playing the designated medical translator role for my grandfather at the hospital this morning. Apparently the cardiologist team “is very busy” so we don’t know whether they can see him today to decide whether he is going to be discharged or he will be here another night or two. They won’t say it but I’ve been doing this long enough to know that his chance of discharge today has just dropped 20 folds if the doctors at 9am rounds don’t have a definitive answer. When they said said the routine ‘do you have any questions’ line, in asked a lot of questions on my grandfather’s behalf as he is a kind of person who feels asking a series of questions to a doctor is somehow causing a burden or nuisance. I know he is not an exception who feels this power-dynamic and that brings me to my post today about questions. Thank you for being here, I appreciate you.
Kia ora, you tangled, brilliant, infuriatingly curious minds.
I want to talk about FAQs. Not the kind on a website, patiently answering how to reset your password or what shipping options are available. No, I mean the deeply human, often utterly baffling, frequently asked questions we lob at each other, sometimes with the best intentions, often with none at all. The ones that reduce complex, messy, glorious human beings into digestible, single-serving factoids.
If you’re anything like me, a Korean or Asian New Zealander, a bit neurospicy who thinks in constellations instead of in straight lines, probably grappling with a grief journey that was never going to fit the myth of the 5 stage proess, then you know the drill. The polite, sometimes too-eager, "Where are you from?" It’s a question I’ve fielded more times than I’ve heard 3am zoomies or relentless meows (and trust me, that’s a lot).
Let me be clear though. I am completely and utterly wholeheartedly proud and happy to talk about my heritage, about the courage and grit my family poured into their migration journey from Seoul to Auckland. It’s a story of resilience, adaptation, and intergenerational legacy that has shaped every fibre of who I am and what I want to build.
But here’s where the decades of those questions rocks both my curiosity and the inner angry woman’s waka. Why is that so often the first question? Why do we opt for a pre-programmed FAQ template for every human interaction, particularly when someone deviates from the perceived 'norm', as we navigate our society?
Let’s explore it. When you meet a person with a physical disability, how often is the unasked, or even overtly asked, "What happened to you?" their immediate FAQ as we glance at their mobility device? When a friend shares a cancer diagnosis, is "What stage is it?" the first arrow fired into their already wounded space? (I can personally attest to that one, as this was definitely the #1 question asked with the efficiency of public health budget cuts we’ve seen recently.)
Or the relentless barrage aimed at women as soon as seem old enough for their reproductive rights to be considered public facility: "When are you going to have a baby?" followed by, "Why don't you want a child?" if they answer if not satisfying to their first questions. Oh, I’ve had "Why do you hate children?" a number of times. Honestly. Some people got more answers and mental exertion beyond this point from me. But most don’t.
We are so much more than single identities, aren’t we? We are what we are to each other precisely because we can be more than one thing. We are a braid-work of experiences, ancestries, passions, and contradictions.
Our brains, bless their evolutionary tell-tale sign of efficient little cotton socks, are wired for shortcuts. We excel at building schema and heuristics, processing extraordinary amounts of information with remarkable speed. Jumping to conclusions, crafting those tidy FAQ templates, is practically engrained in our DNA. It’s how we learnt to find out picking up quickest safe paths for us to survive.
But, as any change manager worth their salt will tell you, not all quick paths or simplifications are beneficial. Not all efficiencies lead to meaningful progress. When we forget, or simply don't bother to learn, how to ask good questions, we risk losing access to the profound depths of human intelligence, creativity, and connection. We end up with a shallow puddle instead of a rich kōrero. What makes us essentially human.
It’s no secret that capitalism loves a good division. It thrives on "us vs. them" narratives, particularly for people of the global majority. "Hey, those Asians are taking the jobs and houses from you!". It works so well time and time again. ‘You-must-blame-those-people-that-does-not-feel-familiar-to-you’ is a classic, insidious move to keep the community fractured, to keep us from recognising our shared struggles and collective power.
And systems that incentivise and reinforce those lazy FAQs (e.g. “Stella, I just don’t have time or the energy for your touchy, feely woke questions, ok? I am busy putting our fire at work”)? They contribute to that othering, that reduction, that inability to see the full, complex humanity in another person. They keep us siloed and lonely.
Many researchers and scientists, the very people we trust to unravel the our knotty problems, have long argued that we already possess most of the solutions to society's most complex challenges. The answers aren't hidden behind some paywall or guarded by an elite few; they often lie dormant in overlooked perspectives, in the spaces between established disciplines, and in the collective wisdom of diverse voices.
I’ve always loved a good question over a good answer. And in an era increasingly shaped by AI, the stakes for our questioning capacity are higher than ever. Latest research out of MIT, for example, on "Your Brain on ChatGPT" reveals concerns about the "accumulation of cognitive debt" when using AI assistants for tasks like essay writing. While AI can streamline tasks and reduce certain kinds of mental effort, this study suggests it can also lead to a reduction in neural activity associated with deeper thinking. So yes, we are not going to be smarter but potentially dumber by outsourcing out intelligence (surprise!).
Of course, we can tug and pull at the development of the tech to see if we can prevent outsourcing our curiosity along with our computations. Because if we're not actively engaging our critical faculties, asking incisive, nuanced questions of the information AI presents, we will be inadvertently dulling our own intellectual edge. Hey, what’s the harm in becoming complacent consumers of data rather than active interrogators of truth? Not scary nor bleak at all right? Right?!
But I’m going to pause here (partly because and the air in this hospital ward is very stale). As my neurospicy brain often demands, and acknowledge a critical, often uncomfortable intersectional sprinkle of a truth; curiosity is a massive privilege. Not everyone has the gap in their day to ask the hard questions.
For many, job security, social status, or even physical safety can vanish the moment they challenge the status quo. When you're overworked, been ostracised before or just trying to put kai on the table, the energy required to interrogate systemic failures is a luxury you simply can't afford. The system, in fact, works "exactly as designed" when we feel too constrained to challenge it.
So, now really is not the time to dumb ourselves down with shit questions. Especially if you have the relative social privilege and stability to push the edge a bit.
This is a rallying cry for us, the angry, griefy, nerdy friends in purpose-driven sectors across Aotearoa, who do hold the privilege of curiosity. This is about leaning into that superpower of yours, acknowledging the responsibility it carries, and deploying it like a finely honed blade against the blunt instruments of the status quo.
What if our leadership potential isn't just about having answers, but about having the courage to ask better questions? Questions that dismantle rather than categorise. Questions that open doors and builds scaffolding rather than kick the already frail ladders? Questions that challenge who benefits and who is excluded from decisions, pushing for genuinely transformative solutions rather than superficial fixes.
Let’s revise our FAQs. Let’s ask questions that explore depth, honour complexity, and uncover the entangled curiosities within each other. What if, instead of starting with "Where are you from?", we started with: "What problem keeps you up at 3 AM?" or "What's your cat's favourite existential dread?" or, my personal favourite “What is your story and who told you to believe it?”
Because when we ask better questions, we don't just get better answers. We build see each other in a different light. We build stronger connections. We forge deeper understanding. We create the kind of community that can truly push boundaries together, one insatiably curious, slightly awkward, gloriously un-FAQ-able conversation at a time. Take us to that revolution.
I know it’s hard to commit to monthly subscriptions. So it would mean a lot to me if you could support this mahi with a one-off virtual coffee if you enjoyed this entangled feminist rage and grief
Ooof! I hope he (and you!) get some positive news soon Stella.