And that’s really okay, I promise.
Every time I send an email, someone unsubscribes. It happens on the Digital Congregations list, on the list that supports my nonprofit’s work on displacement, and on the retail list for my lifestyle brand. The audiences and the content differ, but the result is the same.
This used to bother me. I needed to be liked, and an unsubscribe felt like a verdict. I also had not yet worked out why it wasn’t a big deal.
If you’ve seen the mediocre rom-com He’s Just Not That Into You, you’re halfway there. Someone who unsubscribes isn’t confused, isn’t too busy, and isn’t waiting for a better subject line. They’re just not that into you. That is useful information, and it arrives free, with no survey attached.
Consider the alternative. A bloated list with a tiny open rate means I’m sending information that helps no one because no one cares. I would rather write to a small, healthy list of people who open what I send and want what I have to offer.
I can shrug at unsubscribes because the groundwork is done. The emails are worth opening, and they arrive at a rhythm each audience can live with. Every list is segmented, so anyone who leaves knows exactly what they left. Everything I send also supports the larger communications strategy of the organization behind it. With those pieces aligned, an unsubscribe tells me about fit, not failure. New subscribers keep arriving too, because the signup option sits in the right places and is offered in the right way.
Years ago, after I received harsh feedback on a class I taught on a book, a friend who teaches yoga told me she reminds herself of one thing: “I’m not everyone’s teacher.” I took it and kept it. Your emails aren’t meant for everyone either. They should reach the people they were written for, not disappear unopened into a void.
A list nobody ever leaves is usually a list nobody is reading.
Go disrupt something,
Christen
