Grit, Grace, and Being a Girl

Making a difference in the world one daughter at a time

Since social media appropriated our lives, I've noticed a proliferation of new holidays. Each week, it seems that there is a cause people are highlighting in their feeds. It's fairly benign on the surface. National Siblings Day? Sure! I can post a fun picture with my little brother. (But really, who makes this stuff up?) In some cases, it's positive to have heightened collective consciousness around particular topics. Mental Health Awareness. Suicide Prevention. I am here for these discussions. Other times, though, I think these Days become more about virtue signaling and sorely miss the mark.

This past week was International Women's Day. Individuals and organizations shared supportive messages. While their celebratory posts trended, I remained largely unmoved. Don't show me your hashtag, let me see how you live your life. The nice graphic you made on Canva is meaningless if your behavior doesn't back up your inspiring quote. Tweets don't change the world—actions do. How are you treating women the other 364 days of the year?

I've been a bit quieter on social media recently, mainly because I've been devoting most of my cognitive capacity and creative energy to doing other work. I didn't post anything for the occasion, but I have spent time reflecting this week about what it means to really support women at this particular moment in time. I’ve recollected some of my own experiences, and as I’ve looked into the eyes of my daughter during the last days, I’ve seen myself and thought hard about the hopes I have for her. 

I'm a female founder in an industry that has historically not been particularly kind to women. I stepped into the world of finance and started doing consulting work after the tide slowly started to shift, thanks to some courageous change makers who were willing to use their voices and position to start sending a message, "We don't do that here." In my organization, I am held in the highest esteem as a professional and cared for deeply as a person. My business partners respect me for my qualifications and capabilities. My gender is not a liability. I'm grateful and incredibly fortunate. Sadly, I fear my experience is still an exception instead of a cultural norm.

I'm a mother to two small children. I run a private practice, started a second business mid-pandemic, and work hard to support my husband's career. I've weathered the storm of the last two bizarre COVID years with a tremendous amount of privilege and support–far more than most of my peers. And yet, there have been plenty of moments where even I have said, "this is bloody hard." (I still haven't figured out how any single parent has survived this madness with a shred of sanity). 

During the pandemic, women left the workforce in droves. The COVID motherload has been no joke. Females have spent two years attempting to juggle career demands and homeschooling without solid, consistent childcare options, all while keeping their families fed, clothed, bathed, and safe amidst a global meltdown. It was a lot to juggle. Before long, in many families, balls started to drop—they couldn't not. Many women collectively declared, "I can't, so I won't. I'm out." They were unwilling to sacrifice their children or their sanity for a salary. Some of these individuals didn't necessarily want to make a professional exit, but they hit a breaking point where they didn't see any other choice. 

The great resignation has created a talent arms race. Organizations are struggling to recruit and retain top talent across the board, but holding on to talented women is particularly difficult now. One of the real competitive advantages companies have today is empathy. A leader who can skillfully listen, perspective-take, and seek to understand will have a better chance of holding on to a star than someone who engages in a social media campaign about diversity.

Women are not a special interest group. We are half of the human race. I don't want to be a quota, token, or checkbox. I want to be seen, heard, and taken seriously. And, in some moments, with all the strange heavy things the universe has thrust upon my shoulders in the last two years, I need your grace. That's how you can begin to support me. 

As I consider my place in history, I recognize the ways I am a beneficiary of hard-won freedoms and opportunities paid for by trailblazers who boldly went before me. I also think about the glass I’m trying to break for those who will follow my lead. What do I want my picture to inspire? When girls look at me I want them to experience hope and see possibility.

I'm raising a daughter. It's one of the most terrifying things I've ever done. I want her experience as a woman in the world to be iteratively better, and hopefully safer, than mine. I'm under no illusion that her female existence will be frictionless. I want to raise her to respond well to her environment.

At four, she’s a force. Grace is not one to let anyone on the outside dictate much to her at all. I pray the world never manages to quell this amazing part of her spirit. Unfortunately, dampening down strength tends to happen a lot to determined girls as they get older. They're labeled as difficult or aggressive and penalized for their drive.

Many people are threatened by strong women. Our culture prefers females who are tiny, pretty, complicit, people-pleasers. I want more for my daughter than the tyranny of being a nice girl. I want her to know that she's not a decoration and that she always gets to decide. I need her to question. She knows exactly what she wants. I'm raising her to ask for it every time. Along the way, I want her to develop the capacity to graciously understand and accept that we don't always get what we want, exactly when we want it, but that's not a reason to throw a tantrum or stop our fervent pursuit.

As a parent, part of my role is to help my daughter harness her power and channel it in a positive direction.  I’m often in the crosshairs of her iron will. It can be exhausting. Still, I don’t want her to ever stop pushing. It’s an instinct she’ll need to survive. She will face people and institutions that want to hold her back and hurt her. She must learn to trust herself and be unafraid to fight.

Raising my daughter is of the most important, impactful things I can do to make a difference in the future of our world. She’s still trying to decide whether to be a neonatologist, fighter pilot, or stay at home with her babies and their teddy bears every day. She'll change her mind five hundred and one times before selecting a path, but whatever her choice, I’m confident she will transform lives around her in a beautiful way. People will know who she is not by what she says but by how she lives. The world won't always be kind to my Grace, but it will know her by her love. 

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