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Remember Who The F*ck You Are

Oct 8
5 min read

I don't usually carry copies of my own book around in my backpack but recently I had one with me. I was on my way to Austin for the BlueBird Leaders SOAR Conference, and what should have been a relatively straightforward travel day, turned into a very long one.

At some point during an extended layover in Chicago I found a seat at a bubbly bar, ordered some food, a glass of champagne, and settled in. And when I say ‘found a seat,’ I mean I literally squeezed myself into one.

There were two women immediately to my right and another woman to my left. We were basically on top of each other. The woman on my left was on the phone with a friend, having what was clearly a very emotional conversation.


I tried not to listen. I really did. But there are only so many places you can look when you're six inches away from someone who's crying. When she hung up she turned to me, apologized and said, “I'm sorry you had to hear all of that.”


I told her I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop and then immediately asked, “Are you okay?”


That was all it took, we started talking. She told me about a close female friendship that had become painful and some things this woman (someone she’d considered a very close friend), had done. As I listened, I had this strange little realization... I have a copy of my book in my backpack.


I almost didn't say anything. Because really, what was I going to do? Turn to this woman I'd known for ten minutes and say, Funny you should mention that, I wrote a book about it?


It felt slightly ridiculous.

So I sat on it for a minute. And then I thought: She needs this book.


I reached into my backpack and pulled out Behind Frenemy Lines. I told her, “This is actually what I study. I almost never travel with copies of my book, but I happen to have one with me today. And I feel like maybe it's supposed to be yours.”


She started crying, hugged me and thanked me for being so kind. And somewhere along the way, something else happened. The bartender joined the conversation. Then the two women sitting on my other side joined in too. The woman seated across from me was smiling.


Suddenly, this tiny stretch of an airport bar was filled with women talking to one another, not networking, exchanging credentials, or trying to impress each other.

Just connecting.


One woman had been hurting, another woman noticed, and then a few more women pulled in closer. For a little while, a random airport bar became a table.


I've thought about that moment a lot since coming home. Maybe it was kismet. Maybe I was supposed to overhear that conversation. Maybe there was a reason I happened to have a book in my backpack that I almost never carry with me. Or maybe, sometimes another woman simply shows up at exactly the right moment to remind us of something we've temporarily forgotten about ourselves.


“Take a deep breath and remember who the fuck you are.”

I saw this quote recently and immediately loved it. Somewhere though, between that airport bar and the few days that followed in Austin, it started to mean something different to me. Because I think sometimes we do forget. Not completely...


We don't suddenly lose our intelligence, accomplishments, experience, strength or sense of self. It's subtler than that.


Life gets loud. Roles accumulate and responsibilities take over. We accommodate, manage, perform, and take care of what needs taking care of. And sometimes, in that, pieces of ourselves simply get quieter. Then something, or someone, reminds us. That's what Austin did for me.


I went to the SOAR Conference expecting to speak on an author panel, reconnect with some people I knew, meet some people I didn't, and hopefully have some interesting conversations. What I didn't fully expect was how I would feel there.


The women I met were accomplished, smart, ambitious, funny, powerful, generous, and incredibly supportive of one another. There was room for everyone to shine.


And being surrounded by women who were shining didn't make me feel like I needed to compete. It didn't make me question whether there was enough room for me.

It made me want to shine too!


Maybe more importantly, it reminded me that I already do. I felt like myself again. Not a new version of myself. Not a reinvented version.


And when I got onstage for the author panel and started talking about the work I've spent years studying: what happens between women, what gets in the way of trust and connection, and what becomes possible when we get those relationships right, I felt it again.


Oh, right.

There you are.

Remember who the fuck you are.


So much of my work began with studying what happens when relationships between women go wrong, and the individual, relational, organizational and cultural dynamics that can contribute to it:

  • Rivalry

  • Comparison

  • Competition

  • Scarcity

  • Exclusion


But increasingly, I'm just as interested in the opposite question:


What happens when women get it right?

What happens when:


  • Another woman's light doesn't threaten ours?

  • We feel safe enough to put down the armor?

  • We're genuinely curious about one another instead of evaluating one another?

  • A woman sees something in us that we've temporarily stopped seeing in ourselves?


I think something expands.

Confidence. Courage. Possibility. Maybe even, the sense of who we are.


This is the part of female relationships I want to spend more time talking about, because telling women to ‘support other women’ isn't enough. We have to create the conditions where trust is actually possible. We have to make room for honesty, vulnerability, celebration without comparison, ambition without apology, and room for women to be fully themselves without requiring another woman to become less of herself.


Sometimes that happens in carefully created spaces like BlueBird Leaders. And apparently, sometimes it happens accidentally at an airport bar in Chicago.


I don't know what the woman I met that day will ultimately take from the book I handed her. But I hope she remembers that a painful relationship with one woman doesn't get to define her relationship with herself or with other women. Ever.


And I hope she remembers the little group of complete strangers who gathered around her that afternoon. Because while I may have handed her a book, she gave me something too. She reminded me why I wrote it.

And then I went to Austin and was reminded of something else. Who I am.

Maybe that's one of the greatest gifts women can give one another. Not telling each other who we should become... Reminding each other who we already are.

And from my experience, when women get that right? The sky's the limit.


♥️Today I will be fearless. Today, I am grateful.

P.S. Are you trying to better understand and improve the female dynamics on your team, follow me on LinkedIn to learn more!




 
 
 

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