Vol. 42: On humility and the both/and

The view from my hotel room at our conference in Chicago.

I don’t write often in this space about the specifics of what I do for my day job. Some of it is that I’m always renegotiating the boundaries between my online presence and what I do for a paycheck. I’ve written before about bringing my full self to work but recently, I've felt more my true self in the online spaces I inhabit, whether as a writer or on social media, than my virtual office.

Particularly over the past two years, I haven’t shared much about day job online because I’ve often felt unhappy; enough of my colleagues are privy to my online life that it doesn’t feel like it’s worth it to get into (gestures) all of that, knowing that people I work with daily have access to those thoughts.

I’ve been at my organization for nearly five years but took my current role in conference planning in September 2019. It was a huge step for me professionally - I’d worked in sales & fundraising for over five years and was always curious about doing events full time. I decided my career trajectory was to see through one conference and then look to do conference planning elsewhere. We all know what happened next - canceled 2020 conference, virtual 2021 conference, and finally, over two years into this role, I managed an in-person/virtual hybrid conference project plan from start to finish.

May 16 - 18 was my organization’s national conference, an event that was one of my biggest career accomplishments yet. It was 600+ people, a vaccine and mask mandate, four days of in-person programming, virtual programming, over a year of prep, and many months of a total work/life balance breakdown. I’m so proud of myself and my team for how it went, for how hard I worked - it took a lot out of me and was a huge learning experience. I’m also SO HAPPY to have my life “back” now that work has slowed significantly down.

The conference was also the first time in years I’ve been in a space where I’m not known. There were many moments throughout the pandemic where I felt lonely, but one of the unexpected blessings of the past year has been that I'm most frequently in community with those who see me. I have a great group of friends and loved ones outside of work. While I learn a lot from the folks in my sector, I don’t feel deeply known on a personal level. There are many pockets of community within my field of people building authentic relationships rooted in a desire to transform the work - I feel like an outsider looking in.

On Tuesday of the conference, we hosted our “short talks” which are 20-minute, TED-style talks. This was my conference baby - I invited, curated and worked directly with all our speakers. I was so proud of the suite of speakers we featured and went to the social hour following the talks feeling grateful that everyone showed up, the livestreams worked, and all the other event anxieties that had been keeping me up at night for months were slowly abating. 

I entered the social hour on cloud nine, so proud of myself, but I quickly started to feel something I haven’t felt in awhile - lonely. I’m big on celebrating all accomplishments and life moments, and my loved ones know this about me. The juxtaposition of feeling anonymous on top of what I felt was “MY” accomplishment was strange and uncomfortable.

(Content warning here for racism/gun violence/murder) Later that evening, I was on the phone with my wife trying to explain this experience to her - the awkwardness, the loneliness. She finally said to me - and I love her so much for this - “I love you, but ten Black people were murdered in a grocery store two days ago and I don’t have space to have this conversation right now.”

Putting words in her mouth here, but it was a kind way of her saying - calm down with your white feelings. It was a moment rooted in pain. I also feel immense gratitude - that she felt safe setting that boundary and that I’ve grown enough to honor it. Yes, perhaps it’s the bare minimum for our loved ones to honor our boundaries but as a white woman in America, I’m in an eternal unlearning process after growing up in a culture that coddles white women’s emotions at the expense of others - especially Black women and people of color. 

I believe deeply in removing binary either/or thinking from our lives. I can be proud of myself for my accomplishments AND I can need to humble myself. I work in philanthropy - a very privileged sector that is overrun with well-intentioned and harmful white women, of which I am one. My organization’s mission is rooted in a belief in the power of communities and equipping historically marginalized communities and organizations with the resources & tools they need to create change. It’s not about me, my feelings, or my accomplishments.

I’ve been percolating on these thoughts for the past few weeks, as our country has endured even more unimaginable gun violence, and trying to write them down for you has been challenging. I’m also honestly tired today. I was out late last night at the Syd concert with friends pretending I don’t have a day job (never mind that I truly haven’t rested adequately since the conference because I’m out having fun! That’s another newsletter).

I’m comfortable with rambling and I’m comfortable with being vulnerable, but when it comes to doing both at once? In a newsletter I’ve neglected for over a month? Terrifying. But I miss being in touch with all of you, so here I am, imperfect thoughts and all.

Thanks for reading - I missed you! All typos my own.