Moving Forward: Listen, Learn and Then Act

In a week of pain, the only conversation I can and will have here is one about standing with black people in America. 

To the people of color in this community, I will never understand the depth of this pain, but I see you and I am with you. You matter. 

To my fellow white people, we have a lot of work to do. And to begin this work, we must first listen to the words and the voices of black activists, writers and artists who are leading the fight toward racial equity. 

In addition to sharing weekly career-related tools and insights, I'll be using this space to highlight some of the black leaders that are inspiring me. I'll be sharing their platforms so you too can continue on your personal journey to confront your own biases and your privilege. 

This week, I want to share the work of Rachel Elizabeth Cargle, an academic, activist, speaker and writer who released her first public address on May 30th on the realities of the revolutionary moment we're in. She developed a three-part framework for moving forward that includes: Critical Knowledge, Radical Empathy and Intentional Action. Watch the video to learn more. 

You can follow Rachel on Instagram or Facebook. One tangible way to get into action around her work is to do her FREE #DoTheWork 30day Course listed here. She offers a daily action so you can stay on your path. 

As for me, I am committed to continuing to look into my own privilege as a white woman, to understand the exclusive history of feminism and work to create a new version that allows for multiple voices and perspectives. I commit to address racism when I see it, to support local organizations and elected officials committed to equity. With compassion, love and an outstretched arm, I ask that you join me. It will be uncomfortable, but there's something beautiful on the other side. 

White Allies: Educate Yourselves

White Allies, our work toward racial justice is in educating ourselves.

Listening more.

Talking less.

We must not make these stories about us.

We must not change the narrative experts of color are sharing.

We must not speak for people of color.

I will be highlighting resource guides, books, articles, podcasts and names of influencers to follow.

1. Read: Anti-racism Resource Guide created by Tasha K. Ryals (Twitter - @tatortash)

2. Read: Your Black Colleagues May Look Like They’re Okay — Chances Are They’re Not by Danielle Cadet (Twitter - @dbcadet, @refinery29)

3. Follow Illustrator Danielle Coke on Insta - @ohhappydani

4. Listen to: Natal: A podcast/docu-series about having a baby while black in the United States

The Importance of Connection Right Now

At the beginning of the shutdown two months ago, a close friend/colleague and I started doing something wild and out of character.

 Calling each other. On the phone.

 We didn’t schedule time. There was no text warning. There wasn’t even a set topic in mind.

 I wanted to hear her voice. And she wanted to hear mine.

 We covered everything from where our businesses were headed in the pandemic, to swapping NYC quarantine safety tips, to confessions about how many times we had watched Stella jump into piles of leaves, to the raw, “I’m scared and I don’t know how to do this.”

 Then we hit on a variation of all these themes the following day.

 Intuitively, we knew we needed this level of connection to refuel, to ground ourselves in the familiar, and to spark new creativity. We built our own safety in an unsafe world.

 While we’re not talking as often now, that go-to approach in the early days has become a guiding principle for how I’m moving through this moment which is extending to an indefinite length of time.

 Here’s what I’m doing to make sure I get the connection I need:

1. Virtually circling up with different communities of colleagues at least once a week.

2. Joining online classes with other business owners so I can tie in learning with a personal interaction.

3. Scheduling zoom coffees (or wine!) with close friends, former clients, and future collaborators.

4. Being the realest of real me’s with my high school friends on a hilariously snarky group text thread.

5. Eating dinner as a family almost every night for the first time in our lives together. Sharing what we’re grateful for at this meal which ranges from mac and cheese, to our teachers, to each other.

With all of this connection, I am mindful that I also need the time to rest, to be alone, to read (slowly), and to process even a fraction of what is happening in the world right now. I do my best to fit in this quiet time, but I know for this extroverted woman, being with my people even at a distance has been the oxygen I’ve needed to continue to feel alive.

Grief In The Time Of COVID

Spring is my grieving season.

The anniversary of my parent’s car accident is May 16th, marking 34 years since they passed. That date is flanked by Mothers’ and Fathers’ Day; and in the past five years, I’ve added two more significant losses to a one-month span between April and May. Amidst the rebirth of spring blossoms, I’m often moving between the dull ache of longing for the memories I want to hold on to, and the anger for those I will never have.

And that’s just spring status quo.

Currently, grief is all around us. We’re mourning the loss of life as we knew it. Emotions are heightened and yet my usual process for moving through them has been upended. 

There’s no hugging friends or gathering with people who knew and loved my mom and dad.

There’s no feeling the energy, the empathy, and the compassion from the group of motherless mothers with whom I meet monthly at a local wine bar, with a full glass of happy-hour-white in hand.

Without my time-tested ways to move forward while my senses are absorbing a new level of noise, somehow the people I’ve loved and lost feel distant. My connection to them is dampened. My memory is cloudy.

Lucky for me, creativity struck when I asked myself, “How can I acknowledge both the new grief of life in the pandemic and find my people again?” The answer came in a place I often find my flow: writing. But this time, not with a blog post or a journal entry. Writing in the form of an old-fashioned letter.

Pen to pretty piece of stationary, I’ve been writing each of my lost loves a letter about what this time is like, what I miss most about them right now, what I need from them, and my thoughts as to why they may have been spared living in 2020.

I write through tears and occasional smiles. I’ve found each letter to be a visit. An invitation for us to stand in a new memory together, even for just a few minutes. The details of this new connection flood my mind, followed by the old memories I thought I lost.

In this new budding practice, I am learning that there will be times so fraught, complex—and even identity-shifting—that talking about my parents and others I’ve lost is not enough to be with them. In times like these, I need to set up a direct line, with focus, attention, and presence. To bring them into my world—through words—even though this moment will never truly be part of any of our lives.

When the Professional Becomes Personal

When I start working with new clients, I ask them to choose their top five values and then define what those values mean to them.

Inevitably, a third of clients ask, "Should I choose my professional values or my personal values?"

This a moment where I smile, pause and lean into curiosity. "What do you think?"

After 30 seconds or so of quiet, the insight lands on them like a cozy sweater. They smile back. "Ah, they’re the same, aren’t they?"

Yes, exactly.

This is one of the most powerful keys to unlocking a meaningful career: defining what is most important to you and then using it to build a bridge between the professional and the personal.

Right now, in the face of the pandemic I am bearing witness to widespread acceptance of this truth—rather than the typical instinct to fight it, to compartmentalize, to play the role we think others expect of us.

For me it looks like:

Joining a group of coaches, each with our own businesses in a weekly meeting to provide space for each other. Our emotions. Our fears. Our silver linings.

Opening my corporate leadership trainings with a quote about the grief we are collectively feeling right now. Naming it. Giving permission to go there. Being in it.

And for my clients it is:

Choosing vulnerable leadership. Scheduling team meetings where the agenda is, How are we doing?

Encouraging employees to take their days off, even when they know they will not be leaving their homes.

If you’re a leader, take note that we are in an identity-shifting moment where ignoring the personal will be received and called out as callous, apathetic and tone deaf. Even if it has not been your style in the past, dig deep and find a way to see and hear people fully. Be gentle and compassionate. And not just with others. Also with yourself.