Christina Wallace
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Tweets
- View from a scooter on a brilliant NYC day http://t.co/31MvrN7A
- @dens @foursquare Wow. I hit that last week. I'm surprised, I'd have thought you'd be in double-digit levels, Dennis!
- @juliesandler @amandawidjaja what a lovely post! so wonderful to meet you Amanda! miss you, Julie =)
- @cindygallop I've heard so much about #theblackapartment! Looking forward to someday (soon!) meeting you IRL and seeing this mythical place!
- Hey @tammytibbetts, @CynthiaHellen: what's the hastag for Girls Who Rock / She's The First event fundraiser tonight?May 18, 12 from web Reply, Retweet, Favorite
- Impromptu performance of Bach unaccompanied cello suite #1 by bassist in VIP lounge at Girls Who Rock event. Best Friday night ever.May 18, 12 from web Reply, Retweet, Favorite
- Girls Who Rock benefit! (@ Gramercy Theatre w/ 10 others) http://t.co/CznipQbj
- . @kmin @quincyapparel Yes please! We're hoping to throw a trunk show / champagne party for #xxintech ladies. Hope we can align schedules!
- @susanmcp1 you too!! Love meeting the #xxintech ladies in NYC!
- So excited to be at the NYC launch of Dare Dream Do by the incomparable @johnsonwhitney. #xxintech representing here tonight!
- @XXinTech @SmallGirlsPR then perhaps the XY should refrain from advising "classy, powerful women" to stop sweating the "small stuff."
- @markloranger ha! Me either. I had a hot date with my triathlon training schedule instead.
- Found some crazy energy to pull out 25k bike / 5k run brick at full speed tonight. And now I'm wide awake at 11pm... Chamomile tea, perhaps?
- I'm at Quincy Apparel HQ (New York, NY) http://t.co/n4lrtXhE
- Overwhelmed by the responses to my blog post yesterday! Lovely to hear about everyone's awesome sisters. #mothersday http://t.co/CvQ8okV4May 15, 12 from web Reply, Retweet, Favorite
- Congrats to @claychristensen, @DillonHBR, & @jamesallworth on the launch of How Will You Measure Your Life! Top 5 books of 2012 #calleditMay 15, 12 from web Reply, Retweet, Favorite
- May 14, 12 from web Reply, Retweet, Favorite
- @jamesallworth Congrats!! So proud of your work & excited to read the book. Would love to catch up soon. Any plans in NYC in next few wks?
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Posts
- May 14, 12
Last year an incredibly powerful film was released called Miss Representation, a documentary about how women are portrayed in the media. One of the most powerful statements it made was that “you can’t be what you can’t see.” For example, for girls to dream about being astronauts or presidents or software engineers they need to see female astronauts, female presidents, and female software engineers in books, movies, and television. (Instead, the number 1 career aspiration for young girls is to be royalty because mostly what they see are princesses.)
I was thinking of this phrase in particular today because it is Mother’s Day, and this Mother’s Day is the first for my big sister, Stephanie. She has the most beautiful 10-month-old son who is the smartest, happiest, smiliest, most perfect baby ever. No, I am not biased. It’s factually true. Trust me. What makes my sister an amazing mom could fill ten blog posts, but what hit home for me was that, for the first time, I could see up close and unpolished what it meant to be a mom. And it blew my mind.
I.
Growing up, my sister and I weren’t really that close. It’s not that we weren’t not close, it’s just that we were in each other’s life like a competitive, annoying fly that just won’t leave you alone. We were the Wallace Sisters – both highly-trained pianists, both math whizzes, both insanely smart and fiercely independent, and often both in matching clothes (thanks, Mom). The difference was that Steph was beautiful and somehow cool and had friends while I was fat and painfully dorky and often ate lunch at the teachers’ table to avoid bullying at school. So of course I both wanted to be her and wanted to make her miserable at the same time. (I believe I succeeded at the latter.) Needless to say, we were not what you might call friends.
In fact, throughout high school and college we led parallel, yet separate lives reinforced by geography, which in turn cemented our emotional distance. We reunited at home in Michigan for requisite holidays, and often reenacted our teenage fights, no doubt triggered by the proverbial land mines hidden throughout our childhood home. And while neither of us particularly liked this setup, it was the way it was. Until December 2008.
II.
Steph had just gotten engaged to a wonderful man earlier that fall while I had been dating a wonderful man who I hoped would someday propose. We had all trekked back to Michigan for Christmas and got to imagine what the future version of our extended family might look like. We all got along, in that let’s-be-nice-because-guests-are-here kind of way. And then we left, and all was well and good until two days before New Year’s when my wonderful boyfriend dropped a huge bomb: he didn’t want to marry me, he wanted to break up. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t complete coherent sentences. My happy little existence fractured into 127 pieces. Right then my sister called, and when she heard she didn’t miss a beat: come to Nashville for a few days.
This was a huge gesture, and it wasn’t a gesture at all; she really meant it. Over the course of the following week she made me tea, watched mindless television with me, and walked in silence with me while I cried. And then, every so often, she said something insightful and comforting and loving that put a piece of me back in place. I guess this is what a lot of sisters do, but it was a first for us. And in that week our relationship took a sharp turn toward friendship. It wasn’t suddenly perfect by any means, but it was a huge shift for us.
The next summer she got married and I stood by her side as her wonderful fiance said his vows to her, and as I teared up I realized that I believed he meant them. I believed that despite their respective flaws, they loved each other unconditionally in a way I had never before seen. I believed they would be together until death. While my parents divorced when I was a baby and I had no other healthy marriages to study growing up, I suddenly could see a strong and healthy relationship up close, and it was extraordinary.
III.
Two years later I got a call on Thanksgiving with the most astonishing news: they were pregnant! I screamed. My sister was pregnant. My sister was going to make a baby and there would be a tiny little human being in our family, who shared at least some of my DNA. It was terrifying and so so exciting. I couldn’t believe the good news, and yet when we hung up I found myself crying. (Yes, I do that a lot. Moving on…)
We didn’t have the easiest childhood, by far, and there were a lot of moments I swore to myself would never happen “when I became a parent.” And while that occasion was still far off in the distance for me, the reality for my sister was at hand. She was going to have a baby: a tiny, perfect creature who had done nothing wrong and had nothing wrong done to him yet. He was a blank slate. Her family — our family — was a blank slate and we could choose what kind of world he knew.
We chose then and there to end the fighting, end the yelling that was so familiar and destructive. We would end the criticism and the passive-aggressive sarcasm and the competition and the insecurity that had perpetuated through generations of our family. I would treat her as I treated my friends and she would do the same. This second shift in our relationship yanked it firmly onto a course of sisterhood.
Over the last ten months Steph has proven herself to be a resilient, fierce, beautiful, strong wife and mother. And even with all of the changes in her life, she has also been my confidant, cheerleader, therapist, and friend through the tumultuous first year of my startup. She has let me see into the challenges and fears and lows of motherhood as well as the bright shining moments of pure joy. It’s overwhelming when you think about it, and she deserves nothing short of superhero status. So on this Mother’s Day I want to publicly thank my sister for being amazing and letting me be part of her life.
You can’t be what you can’t see. Luckily for me, I see someone awesome.
- Apr 21, 12
A few weeks ago the NYU Stern Undergraduate Women in Business board of directors participated in an improv training session, led by a former-actress-turned-communications coach. This session grew out of an ongoing conversation I’d had with the ladies following their March conference, wherein they had expressed discomfort with speaking up and asking for what they wanted. (Here’s the blog post I wrote following that conference if you’re interested in the background story.)
Over the course of three hours the fabulous coach worked with the girls on understanding the different roles they play in different situations, thinking and reacting on their feet, being comfortable saying (out loud) “I failed”, and truly hearing what their partners were offering in an exercise.
It was this last part that created an interesting shift for the girls. So often we have prepared what we are going to say or do in a given situation and go right ahead and do it whether or not the circumstances were as we anticipated. Instead of being present and reacting to what is actually being said we respond to the script that is in our heads.
(Ever felt like you and a friend / boss / spouse were carrying on two separate conversations? Or gotten into an argument without being certain what you were actually fighting about? That’s what I’m referring to.)
But the key to improv is being on the same team, and to do that you have to be paying attention to what your scene partner is giving you — verbally and non-verbally. The first rule of improv is: Yes. The second rule is: Yes, and.
Yes: I hear you and I accept what you say is true.
And: I will build on it and help make it betterIt’s crazy how those two words can change everything for a relationship. Think about the alternatives:
No…
So often our immediate reaction to things is “no”. It can’t work. It’s too expensive / dangerous / complicated. It will take too much work. It is scary. It’s new and uncertain. It’s distracting. “No” is one of the first words we learn as children and becomes one of the most common words we say.The problem with “no” is that it not only stops an idea dead in its tracks, but also that it can build up negativity over time and discourage the hearer from trying in the future. When you are certain the answer is “no”, why ask the question in the first place? Relationships built around “no”, whether romantic, friendly, familial, or professional, will ultimately lead to a breakdown of communication.
Yes, but…
Perhaps just as common, however, is “yes, but…” While it at least begins with an affirmation that says “okay, I hear you” it still shuts the speaker down in the end. “But” is full of caveats, limitations, and excuses. “But” not only limits the chances of success for the idea by restricting resources, it too builds a bankroll of resentment. I think “yes, but…” is actually more dangerous than “no” because it is often followed by “I told you so” (whether explicit or implicit) when the suggestion fails — a double whammy of negativity.Yes, and…
Honestly, I think this is the secret sauce for all successful relationships. “Yes, and…” is just the slightest pivot from “yes, but…” yet it changes everything. It too starts with “okay, I hear you” but then shifts to build on the idea instead of dissecting its flaws. “And” is about supporting, strengthening, and validating. “And” increases the chances of success not by just a multiple, but often an exponent. Moreover, “yes, and…” builds rapport over time. Yes, and I’ll help: we are in this together.How amazing: a lesson in relationships, management, and comedy all rolled into one. Brought to you by the letters A and E: Arts Education.
- Apr 08, 12
Life is hard.
I can say that with utmost clarity. Startups are challenging, yes, let that go on the record. And relationships take work and money can be difficult to manage and probably all of those platitudes are true.
But when you strip all of that away, when it’s just you and the people you love and you are facing uncertainty in matters of life and death — true, end-of-life death — and it just breaks your heart to play out any of the possible scenarios ahead, well, those are the moments that make you want to break a stack of plates. And then maybe jump out of an airplane from 10,000 feet. And then tell the next guy in a hoodie who is “crushing it” to just shut the f up.
I know where my drive comes from, that thing that keeps me hustling seven days a week, 28.4 years and counting. I know why my brain can’t turn off and my fingers itch to make something tangible and my heart insists on feeling in technicolor despite all of the scolding its heard to toughen up over the years: because those moments that string together one after another, those seconds that in aggregate make up a “life,” those minuscule microcosms of happiness and fear and love and heartache bleed one into another and then? Then they flame out.
And here’s the truth: you get two choices. The thing itself is going to happen no matter which you choose — that much is guaranteed. You can’t stop it. Sorry. The end has already been written. No, your choice is only in how you are going to experience that inescapable thing, because simultaneously the seconds are interminably long and the hours just evaporate like a whisper.
So you can sit in it, endure it, soak up the wrenchingness of it – and therefore be in it so that when it’s over you have it as a chapter in your life that you can honor as something real. Or you can deftly move through it and deflect the sharp corners by bending the curvature of your bubble — perpetual motion can do that to space, didn’t you ever learn the physics of emotional crises? — and make to the other side nearly unscathed, with hardly a memory of the trauma to be found.
Which is better? I can’t be sure. I have always chosen the former and have the scar tissue to stand witness. But this much I’ve learned: the lion’s den stands waiting whether you’re ready or not.
- Mar 08, 12
Two weeks ago I spoke as part of a workshop for the Undergraduate Women in Business conference at NYU Stern School of Business. The workshop was called “Necessary Conversations” and the overall theme was how to grab a seat at the table, speak up, and have the conversations that matter — whether pitching for an investment, negotiating a raise, giving difficult feedback, asking for a mentor relationship, you name it.
It seems undergraduate women at NYU Stern are facing the same difficulties that women at many top business schools face: they are underperforming their male peers, in large part because they hold back in classroom discussions. When digging deeper they realized that female students prefer to speak only when they are absolutely confident in their answer or when they feel completely prepared to enter the debate. They tend to take longer to raise their hand, have shorter and more concise comments, and often self-edit to manage their out-of-classroom image. As a result, these totally awesome women are losing ground before the game even starts.
Now anyone who knows me knows that I have little difficulty in speaking up or starting a debate. Whether it was because I grew up on a stage, or have been a giant since the age of 12, or never worried about my out-of-classroom image because it sat squarely in “social outcast” territory, I have always felt comfortable being seen and heard. It’s not always enjoyable, and I don’t always do it well, but I continue to do it because a) it is an important muscle to develop and, more importantly, b) there are things I want and I am responsible for making sure I get them.
So I talked with the NYU women about this, and along with it, the concept of “fake it until you make it”. In this particular context, I meant the vocal behavior that can either reinforce your argument and project your authority on the subject or completely undermine everything you are saying: the modifiers (“sort of”, “probably”), the tentative verbs (“it may”, “we’re trying to”), the shallow breaths and fast talking that raise your pitch to that of a pre-teen girl, the sub-audible volume.
Why would anyone believe what you are saying when your behavior indicates even you don’t believe it? And perhaps even more detrimental: don’t set up an argument but leave the audience to infer what you want out of it. Forgive my crassness, but that’s like oratorical blue balls. How can anyone give you what you want if you don’t actually ask?
The women rose to the occasion and the workshop turned out to be incredibly interactive, with five pairs courageous enough to get up and pitch a new business idea. Afterward several women came up and asked follow-up questions, and it struck me that nearly all of the questions revolved around asking permission. When was it okay to be wrong? What if they came across as too cocky? Would some people not like that they were asking for what they wanted? How do they convince people they are qualified to do the thing they really wanted to do?
(Perhaps the most common question: How did I convince anybody that an opera-singing-mathematician should be a CEO of a fashion company? Easy: I don’t try to convince them. I’m doing it anyway, and they can just watch and see it work out.)
This frustrates me to no end. Listen: I know that most of those high-achieving, type-A young women got to where they are (that is, an elite business school at an elite university) because they followed the rules. I know, because that’s the same approach I took all through high school and college. Get the syllabus; figure out the deadlines and the metrics the professor will grade against; get an A. It’s the Suzuki approach to learning music. It’s the color-by-numbers method for life, and it’s feels safe, but ultimately it’s extremely dangerous. Why? Because the first step you take after graduation (and every step thereafter) doesn’t come with a syllabus or a sticker for doing a good job. And the likelihood of you making mistakes is virtually guaranteed. (And if you’re not making mistakes, you are playing it safe, so boom! Mistake. QED.)
Which means these extremely talented women who could be charging into the world and leaving a dent are instead tentatively walking their imagined tightrope for fear of falling off. And for each tentative step they take there are some (equally awesome) guys bounding in with fast, decisive steps because they’ve been breaking rules and hearing “no” since they were toddlers. So who’s more likely to attract the opportunities and the promotions and the mentors? See? Frustrating.
But those NYU women are persistent and now that they’re talking about this, they’re not willing to drop it. We’ve continued the conversation since, and after a particularly engaging lunch last week they’ve agreed to try an experiment later this spring involving something totally out of their comfort zone: improvisational comedy with strange creatures known as actors. We’re still working through the details, but the goal is to take them into this brave new world of thinking on your feet in front of an audience.
Step 1: stand up. Step 2: speak out. Step 3: take on the world. Stay tuned for updates on the project!
- Jan 09, 12
While I was still a student actor in Atlanta I was cast in a production of Bernard-Marie Koltes’ Roberto Zucco alongside a professional actress named Park Krausen, one of two Equity actors cast to mentor the students and anchor the Theater Emory production of what was to be a challenging and complex play. In rehearsal after rehearsal one piece of direction that nearly all students were struggling with was that we were to say our lines as declarative sentences – as emphatic statements that we believed were true – rather than in the questioning lilt so common with teenagers. It seemed a straight-forward note, yet we found it impossible to comply, until one night when Park taught us about the “violence of articulation.”
One of the lesser-used definitions of “violence” pertains to the context of language: “an immoderate vehemence,” or an exceedingly zealous or passionate expression. The “violence of articulation”, then, is a somewhat poetic term for the passionate force of articulating something into being. By saying something out loud, emphatically, declaratively you have given it a name and thus a being, and with that, you have taken on an accountability for its future.
What Park shared with us that night was the bold and intrepid act of putting a stake in the ground and pronouncing something as true, which is at once both a summons for your allies to help you make it be true and a dare to your enemies to prove it false. In any case, it is a call to action. This is why marriage vows are recited in public and not just signed on paper. Conversely, this is why young adults tend to pose ideas as questions instead of committing to them as statements. Just as true: this is why we often demure from admitting our New Year’s resolutions in case we don’t follow through by year-end.
It is with this in mind that, instead of writing resolutions for 2012 in my usual Moleskin, I have decided to articulate them publicly in the hopes that the universe will indeed conspire to help me (and the threat of public failure will keep me accountable).
1. Do at least one thing a month that scares the crap out of me
2. Learn to code in Ruby and Javascript
3. Complete a racing trifecta: half-marathon, sprint triathlon, and full marathon
4. Read 1 book per month that has absolutely nothing to do with my startup
5. Rebuild my emergency fund once this bootstrapping thing comes to a close
6. Maintain the personal budget I learned while bootstrapping = scrappy + lean
7. Travel to a new continent (Asia, Australia, or Antartica)
8. Blog more consistently
9. See my newborn nephew enough so that by the time he learns to talk he recognizes me
10. Find at least one young woman to mentorWhat about you? Any goals for the year you’d be willing to announce on the record?
- Dec 15, 11
I’ve had a rough week. But before we get to that, let me tell you a story.
Two years ago I climbed Kilimanjaro. On January 9, 2010 around 6:30am local time I reached the summit, which is the highest point in Africa. If this were a movie and you started watching at 6:27am you’d see one of the biggest highs of my life over the following three minutes of film. But if you started watching at, say, 3am you’d see a very different Christina. You’d see an extraordinarily strong woman about to crumble like a pile of Girl Scout cookies.
Physically, the climb is not that difficult — perhaps no harder than running a half-marathon (which is to say: it’s not a cakewalk but certainly not impossible either). I was having some issues with altitude sickness, but nothing unbearable. And it wasn’t the coldest I’d ever been. It was near-zero Fahrenheit and the snow had begun to pick up, but I also looked like the abominable snowman in 7 layers of clothes and had spent the first 18 years of my life in Michigan. I wasn’t going to freeze to death. True, it was pitch black in all directions, and I was climbing on an empty stomach and no sleep. It’s a fact that it was uncomfortable in many regards. Yet as I chanted the Greek alphabet and sang songs quietly in the time signature of my 20-step cadence all I could think of was how far I’d come and how far I had to go: I was 3 hours in and had 3 more hours left. I would have to relive the misery I just survived before things got better. I wanted to cry. No, I wanted to be lying on a beach somewhere warm with an umbrella in my drink.
I will be completely honest with you: I very nearly turned back down the mountain and returned to base camp.
But just as I was about to turn back it occurred to me that I hadn’t been climbing for 3 hours. I had been climbing for 6 days and 3 hours. This trip didn’t start at base camp; it started nearly a week earlier when we entered the national park in Arusha, all clean and well-rested and happy. I had already survived 5 nights of camping, hiking, bad food, tummy aches, and blisters. I was so much further into this than I gave myself credit for. Was I really going to throw that away 3 hours from the top?
And then I thought, silly girl, this trip didn’t start in Arusha 6 days earlier… it had started 4 weeks before that when I flew from Boston to London, then from London to Nairobi, before taking an 18-hour train to Mombasa, where I began a solo backpacking trip that spanned Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania, and Rwanda. The adventure had come with a whole host of travel challenges that I had already overcome – everything from a power outage in Zanzibar to a difference of opinion on what a “contract” constituted when a hostel in Kampala tried to charge me double at checkout. I had even run into the ex-love-of-my-life in Kigali and lived to tell the tale. Was I truly going to turn back now?
Realizing I wasn’t 50% done, but ~98.4% done made a drastic and noticeable difference in my mood. I believed I was capable of finishing. I knew that to reach the top I only had to slog through. (And at this point in the pep talk I discovered I only had 2 hours and 32 minutes remaining! Even better!)
I tell this story (to myself as much as to you, dear readers) because I’m having a hard time putting my crappy week into the right frame of reference. In the context of the past 24 hours or even last 10 days I feel like I’m floundering. I misread a situation and made the wrong (bold) choice to address it. I waited too long to pull the plug on a strategy that wasn’t working and wasted precious time and energy. I naively believed someone would do the right thing instead of actively getting on their radar and asking the questions to ensure that they would. (They didn’t, for the record.)
And I can’t help but feel like things are falling apart and, consequently, I am failing. (At what, exactly, I can’t say. But “failing” nonetheless, just like getting a B in martial arts my sophomore year of college meant I was “failing”.) When the last 10 out of 14 days feel sucky, it’s pretty easy to think that, on average, I suck and therefore I get to have a pity party. Who has the streamers?
So I’m going to broaden my frame of reference. Instead of looking at the last 14 days let’s consider a time series of the last 3 months. In the 3 months since I left my job and have been the full-time CEO of Quincy I’ve had one of the greatest adventures of my life. (That even includes the time I went volcano boarding in Nicaragua in a lightening storm..) I nearly feel growing pains from the amount that I have learned about myself, about fashion, about business, about what women want, about back-end programming languages, about sales, about Macs, about asking for help, and so much more. Within this frame of reference these 10 days are just a blip. Or I can look wider than that.
What about the time series since deciding to go to business school? Or my 20s? What about the frame of reference compared to the 12-year-old girl who hid out in a bathroom stall to read Nancy Drew books instead of playing with the other kids at recess? Looking at how far I’ve come, do the challenges of these last 10 days mean I’m a failure? Or just that I’m human?
On that note, enough with the navel-gazing. I have a company to build.
- Dec 01, 11
I had dinner a few months ago with a girlfriend from college. She had been asking about my startup and recent jump from steady employment to the always-volatile world of entrepreneurship when she noted that I have a history of taking some pretty big risks and yet I “always land on my feet.”
She was both proud and a touch wistful as she made that observation, going on to note that she was in a comfortable job (at which she was quite successful), with a loving husband, and had just purchased a beautiful home, all by age 27. In contrast, I was single, had quit my job, moved into a tiny place in upper Manhattan (where I rented a couch in the middle of the living room), and poured my measly savings into a high-risk venture while deferring 6-figure student loan debt. She was living the life she wanted – 10 years from now. I was making the risky choices, which may or may not ever pay off, but are certainly anything but comfortable. Who exactly should be envious of whom here?
I thought about her comment that night and all through the next week. I certainly do have a history of big leaps – personal, professional, educational, physical… My story is a long and twisty one with sharp turns that some call brave and others call reckless. The more I pondered it, the more I wondered: what was it that made me willing to take substantial risks where others might shy away? I went back through journals from the past decade or so, and began to see three themes emerging:
1. I believe that I am smart enough and strong enough to figure out a solution.
The first time I traveled alone I didn’t believe this statement. I was in Germany and a volunteering gig I had lined up had not panned out as expected. Suddenly I was stranded in Bavaria with three weeks before my return flight to the US and very little money. I’ll admit, I panicked for a second. More like 60 seconds. But then something just clicked and I switched into problem-solving mode. My instincts identified what resources I needed (internet, train tickets, Lonely Planet) and, despite the language barrier in a rural town, I procured them all. The thing is, once I had one success story it was easier to go out on a limb next time – I already knew I had pulled it off. When my future travels to East Africa or Haiti or Central America found me in a tough spot I could tell myself it was going to be okay; I’d faced similar problems before and they had all turned out fine; I was smart enough and strong enough to figure this out.
2. I am growing more comfortable with uncertainty
Uncertainty is the hardest part of taking big risks. At least for Type A people, the inability to plan or predict what will happen is the scariest thing we can imagine. But uncertainty is one of the few guaranteed things you’ll face when taking a risk with a truly big payoff – that’s what makes it so risky. So how does one develop the muscle of dealing with uncertainty? By believing statement #1: I am smart enough and strong enough to figure this out. Once I truly believed that axiom I was able to relax my death grip on the unknown and embrace uncertainty and the adventure it contained. I took solo backpacking trips without booking a single day in advance. I ended an unhealthy relationship without any other prospects on the horizon, even as my friends were all getting married and having children. I quit my job and decided to start my own company even though I don’t have a massive savings account or family money to fall back on. The worst that could happen is never going to happen – my instincts will kick in before it does and I’ll figure something out. It’s all going to be okay.
3. I am getting used to rejection
This was one of the more interesting themes I noticed. When I first ventured off to college I was often timid in asking for what I wanted. I figured that if it was supposed to work out, it would, and by not asking I never had to hear “no”. Imagine my surprise, then, when opportunities didn’t just fall into my lap. This clearly was not a winning strategy.
So I started asking. I applied for jobs I wasn’t quite sure I was qualified for. I asked for promotions and raises. I decided to go to business school even though I’d never met anyone with an MBA and didn’t know what a P&L was. Revise that: I decided to go to Harvard Business School. I even asked guys out. Hot guys. Guys who were totally out of my league. And guess what? I heard “no” a lot. At first it stung. At first I cried. And ate a lot of ice cream. Then I started to expect “no” and didn’t care; I was going to ask anyway. I cried a lot less. And when the answer was “yes” it was amazing! I was over the moon. I definitely cried then. (No judgement. Steve Jobs apparently cried all the time.) Getting used to rejection requires developing a muscle, and you can only build it up by practicing.
(Sidebar: I think this is why boys tend to be gutsier than girls; they are the pursuers from an early stage and thus get used to hearing “no”. Girls are told they are to sit tight and wait to be pursued, and thus are quite good at saying “no” but less good at hearing it.)
What do you think? Do you agree that these traits can be developed, like muscles, or are they more hard-wired than that? What other traits have you noticed correlate with risk-taking?
- Nov 20, 11
The book I contributed a chapter to while at HBS has launched! Read about what business can offer the arts along with many other stories from my classmates and professors in Passion and Purpose: Stories from the Best and Brightest Young Business Leaders. Grab a copy from Amazon now or find it in book stores soon!
- Oct 27, 11
In the startup world there is much talk about the dangers of vanity metrics: things like registered users, page views, or downloads. These are metrics that many startups use to tout their growth or influence but are often things that are easily manipulated, and do not necessarily correlate to things that matter: active users, engagement, revenues, and profits.
Some people (often the very goal-oriented among us) are also guilty of applying vanity metrics to our lives as a measure of progress or happiness. I was particularly thinking of this today for two reasons: 1) I was supposed to run the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington DC this Sunday and 2) I haven’t seen my girlfriends in more than three weeks.
The marathon goal was dashed two months ago when I the pain in my knees and IT bands grew from tolerable to unbearable. After a couple of visits to a physical therapist it became clear that I had gone about training the entirely wrong way and had inflicted some serious trauma on my body.
It had all started in the Fall of 2010 when I began my post-MBA consulting job. With little control over my time I was unable to participate in many of the things that made me happy — singing in choirs, weeknight happy hours with friends, even finding time to get to yoga classes was difficult. So I decided to take up long-distance running and set a goal to complete a half-marathon, sprint triathlon, and full-marathon within the next 12 months. (This from a girl who cheated on the 1-mile run test in high school gym class…) Was there any particular need for the 12-month goal? No. Wouldn’t going from no running to completing a half-marathon be achievement enough? Probably. But that’s not the way I work. I have to set the reach goal and then surpass it even if the goal doesn’t represent the things that really matter to me.
Long story short: I ran the NY half marathon in March and completed the DC triathlon in June but I did them both the hard way. Ramping up my weekly mileage 2x as fast as I should have; cramming the swim training in in 25 meter hotel pools and never truly understanding how an open-water swim might differ; trying out my rented road bike for the first time the night before the race. What I mean to say is that I finished them, and there is a check mark next to those achievements on my 2011 list. But those checkmarks aren’t real milestones for me — I only created the obstacles the year before, and I didn’t do them the best I could.
On my semi-annual balanced scorecard review of my life (yes, I’ve created one to chart progress) the category of “races completed” is a vanity metric. It doesn’t measure any sort of real progress in my life. On the other hand I have no metric for how often I see my friends. And if I did, I would be failing right now.
Throughout my entire life I have prioritized work, extracurricular activities, and volunteering over my friends and family. And each stage of the way I have had an excuse for why I needed to do it: I had to work hard in high school to get a scholarship to a good college; I had to double major and double minor and work three jobs in college to ensure I could launch out into the world on my own and not have to return to Michigan; I had to work hard when I first moved to New York because this city doesn’t care that you’re 22 and working in the arts and don’t have a trust fund to cover the rent; I had to work hard in business school because I was an untraditional student and felt behind; I had to work hard in consulting because that’s what’s expected, and I always try to exceed expectations; and now I’m working hard at my startup because I have no safety net, and it’s up to me whether I sink or swim. In every case I convinced myself that if I only added a few more things to my resume, tracked a few more metrics I would prove once and for all that I was worth something. And then I could slow down.
Except the thing that I never quite stopped to consider was that the people who love me already believe that. And every time I reach one of these supposed milestones I set a new one and keep charging, full-speed-ahead. Somehow I’m doing a really great job at tracking my vanity metrics but not so much at tracking the things that matter.
We got our final set of samples back this week at Quincy, completed a photo shoot, sent out the finished patterns for marking and grading, and held our first presentation / trunk show event. It was a successful week at my startup. But I also screened calls from my sister and three friends, skipped a physical therapy session, broke down into tears at least twice, checked email all throughout choir rehearsal (the one time I’m supposed to truly unplug), and didn’t average more than 5 hours of sleep. So perhaps not such a successful week after all.
- Oct 20, 11
There was an article published by Fast Company last week on “Why Education Without Creativity Isn’t Enough“. It was a fascinating look at the Indian education system with its focus on STEM disciplines (science, technology, engineering, mathematics) and learning methods like rote memorization and standardization. While the entire article is worth reading, one quotation stuck out for me:
At the top of the market are the jobs everyone wants. And guess what? These jobs require creativity, problem solving, decision making, persuasive arguing, and management skills. In this echelon, a worker’s skills are unique, not interchangeable… Workers at every level benefit from an education that emphasizes creative thinking, communication, and teamwork – the very kind of excellence already offered at top American colleges.
It was an interesting juxtaposition to the pieces being written in response to Occupy Wall Street that focus on the “useless” majors American kids are choosing like philosophy, English, or the arts, which make them “unemployable.” While I have no interest in sharing my personal politics on this blog, I do have a bit of a knee-jerk reaction to the term “useless” when applied to just about anything, let alone education. Given my own “useless” education in both classical music and theater I thought I might have a bit of a soapbox to stand on.
I’d like to go on the record: Studying the arts was the best preparation for my life in entrepreneurship. Bar none.
Why?
1) The arts taught me creative thinking
Have you ever had to build a (non-functioning) grand piano to scale with some plywood, linoleum tiles, and three dining room table legs in under 4 hours? What about convince an audience that the same three actors are both a trio of parents in the 1960s in one act and their grown children in the 1990s in another? How does a daughter process the news that her father has relapsed into dementia — how long is the beat? what flickers across her face? how much proof does she require? what does she say and what does she leave unsaid? These are all questions I had to answer as a theater studies major, and while they seem incredibly specific in the moment they build muscles in how to tackle a problem, extract the kernel, think in oblique angles, and make the best use of scarce resources.
Can creativity be taught? I think so. I would argue it is part of the natural human condition, but some of us get a chance to strengthen the muscle from a very early age and others don’t. Just as some people are told they aren’t athletic (*cough*) and begin to believe it, others accept that they are bad at math or lack creativity before they truly push themselves to try.
2) The arts taught me communication
For most of my life the thing that made me stand out was the fact that I’m 6’0″ tall in bare feet. Since I was 13 I had the best air in the elevator and have never felt the stress of claustrophobia in Times Square because I’m often a full head above the throngs. It also has its disadvantages (see: economy class on airplanes, shopping for jeans, attempting to blend in), but for the most part it works for me. So it surprised me a bit when I got to business school and discovered it wouldn’t be my height that set me apart from classmates. In fact, I had never met so many tall women in one place at the same time. No, the trait that made me stand out was my ability and willingness to get up in front of people and speak.
It wasn’t just raising my hand in a section of 89 super smart classmates and disagreeing with the previous argument or giving a “pitch” in a role-playing exercise for an entrepreneurship class. It was making the welcoming remarks at a conference I co-chaired in front of 1200 people without breaking a sweat. It was introducing a rock-star professor to 899 of my classmates for a speaker series and throwing in an off-the-cuff joke. (It went over well, in case you were concerned.) It was giving a speech on behalf of the Fellowship Program to the largest and most influential donors at HBS. The instances that allowed me to shine were those that required me to make personal connections with individuals in a crowd while hundreds of other onlookers observed our moment — the very thing you learn to do as an actress.
3) The arts taught me teamwork
One of the things I disliked about being a classical pianist was that it was lonely. I started piano at age 4 with 20 minute practice sessions and culminated 15 years later with 6 hours a day of just me and a piano and some Bach, Beethoven, and Bartok. It was the very reason that I picked up cello in junior high so I could play in the orchestra and why I continued from my professional children’s choir to the chamber groups and big orchestral choirs in high school and college. I preferred to create things with people.
It’s also why I pivoted from music to theater when I got to Emory. Not only are there a lot of people involved in creating, producing, and performing live theater, but the range of skills required and types of roles available are expansive. Over four years at Emory I learned the value of trying on opposing roles on the same team — from actress to director, designer to carpenter, producer to audience. I learned what happens if you refuse to delegate and insist on doing everything yourself. I sat through poorly managed rehearsals and expertly managed ones, and saw the difference in participants’ morale when their time was wasted and when it was valued. I even experienced what I later learned was called a self-managed team; we just called it chamber music. We learned to breathe together, ritardando together (slow down), cut off together — all without a conductor. What better example of teamwork is there?
Conclusion
The true failing of higher ed is not these “useless” liberal arts majors — it is the failure to teach how these abstract skills can apply to tangible professions. A theater major is not limited to a life as an actress or director or designer (though I certainly have many friends who are pursuing that path — both successfully and perhaps a bit unsuccessfully). She can leverage her exceptional communications skills through public relations or sales (and will probably be quite good at them). She can use her creative thinking and teamwork muscles for a career in consulting. She can even give entrepreneurship a chance, where all three skill sets are required along with the fortitude to withstand an emotional rollercoaster not unlike that of the day-to-day creative world. It’s the last 5% of an education that seals the deal and helps students put their best foot forward in the real world. It can make the difference between creating an engaged, passionate, and productive member of society and one who is struggling to gain a professional and financial foothold.
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- SummarySpecialties: Entrepreneurship within Lean Start-up framework. Branding and marketing within consumer/retail space. Experienced public speaker and published writer. Financial structures of 501(c)(3) and 501(c)(4) organizations. Performing arts management.Experience
- May 2012 - PresentBoard Member, Interlochen Alumni Organization / Interlochen Center for the Arts
- Jun 2011 - PresentCo-Founder and CEO / QuincyQuincy combines bespoke and ready-to-wear by rethinking traditional clothing sizes for women's work apparel. Made in NYC and sold exclusively online.
- Aug 2010 - Sept 2011Consultant / The Boston Consulting GroupBCG is a global management consulting firm and the world's leading advisor on business strategy. We partner with clients in all sectors and regions to identify their highest-value opportunities, address their most critical challenges, and transform their businesses. Our customized approach ensures that our clients achieve sustainable competitive advantage, build more capable organizations, and secure lasting results. We seek to be agents of change—for our clients, our people, and society broadly.
- May 2010 - Aug 2010Consultant / FriendfactorThrough public education and advocacy tools, Friendfactor cultivates new “champions of freedom,” people who, when asked to support their gay and transgender friends, will do so. Gay friends matter more than gay issues for most people, but many friends don’t know what’s at stake or how to help, and most gay and transgender Americans don’t know how to ask. Friendfactor seeks to fill that gap and shift the gay rights dialogue away from ideology and toward a more personal and inclusive concept: friends helping friends.
- Aug 2006 - Jun 2008Rehearsal Associate / The Metropolitan OperaThe Metropolitan Opera is the largest classical music organization in North America. It presents about 27 different operas each year in a season which lasts from late September through May. The operas are presented in a rotating repertory schedule with seven performances of four different works staged each week. Performances are given in the evening Monday through Saturday with a matinée on Saturday. Several operas are presented in new productions each season. Sometimes these are borrowed from or shared with other opera houses. The rest of the year's operas are given in revivals of productions from previous seasons. Beyond performing in the opera house in New York, the Met has gradually expanded its audience through technology. It has broadcast regularly on radio since 1931 and on television since 1977. In 2006, the Met began live satellite radio and internet broadcasts as well as live high-definition video transmissions presented in cinemas throughout the world.
- Jun 2005 - Jul 2006Arts Associate / Schwartz Center for Performing ArtsHome to the Flora Glenn Candler Concert Series, The Donna and Marvin Schwartz Center for Performing Arts is a place where teaching, learning, and performance merge to create a vital arts presence for the entire community. Since the opening of the Schwartz Center in February 2003, the arts have assumed a more visible, central place on Emory's campus. Because the arts are among the most exalted and enduring cultural achievements of civilization, Emory is proud to provide a place where cultivation of the arts through teaching, learning, encouragement, and stewardship can thrive. Students, faculty, and world-renowned guest artists combine thier talents and hard work to create an experience that brings culture, beauty, and provocative work to the community.
- Feb 2003 - Jul 2006Assistant Director of Music / Staff Singer / First Presbyterian Church of AtlantaFirst Presbyterian Church of Atlanta has one of the most outstanding sacred music programs in the country. The choirs and instrumental groups are an integral part of all worship services. In addition, they have performed numerous times in Europe. Offering a fully graded vocal choir program for four-year-olds through adults. In addition to the vocal choirs, the Carillon Choir, a handbell choir comprised of 13 adults, regularly provides music for worship. The St. Cecilia Consort, a chamber orchestra specializing in the music of the 17th and 18th century and the Seraphim Brass Ensemble, a professional brass ensemble also perform frequently during worship services.
- Jan 2005 - Jun 2005Intern / Georgia ShakespeareGeorgia Shakespeare (formerly Georgia Shakespeare Festival) is a professional, not-for-profit theatre company located in Atlanta, Georgia, in the United States on the campus of Oglethorpe University. Georgia Shakespeare produces plays annually, primarily between June and November. Each year, it welcomes 60,000 patrons to its performances.
- Sept 2004 - Jan 2005Intern / Out Of Hand TheaterOut Of Hand Theater makes new work for new audiences. It is a collection of writer/director/performers who make ravishing, athletic performances with and for the ever expanding, beloved Atlanta community. Out Of Hand creates razor-sharp, delight-filled experiences by: Involving the audience in a new way every time, giving the audience a stake in the show Magnifying the places where artists and audience share common ground, causing moments of mass intimacy Embracing those who are unreached by conventional theater
Education-
2008 - 2010Harvard Business SchoolMBA in Management
Activities: Section B, Social Enterprise Conference, HBS Democrats, HARBUS journalist, Oval Office training program at HKS, Wine and Cuisine Society, HBS Show -
2001 - 2005Emory UniversityBA in Mathematics, Theater Studies
Activities: Ad Hoc Productions, Theater Emory, Alpha Delta Pi, Alpha Psi Omega, Concert Choir, University Chorus, Emory Symphony Orchestra, FAME Trainers, -
1999 - 2001Interlochen Arts AcademyHS Diploma in Piano Performance
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