“So, tell me about yourself.”
During my graduate school orientation, one of the deans told us her “story” – her upbringing, successes – something I like to call the “word vomit resume.” She told us how she got to where she is today, how she was raised to make it on her own and be independent. She worked hard, persevered through the challenges of academia, and eventually was hired as faculty at an Ivy League Institution. She then told us to share our answer to this question to the person next to us in the auditorium.
After doing so, instead of moving on to the rest of the agenda, she told us that she hadn’t been honest. So, she told her story again, but this time, her story was so different: she acknowledged her upper-class upbringing, legacy status at an Ivy League Institution, her struggles in academia being a woman, and her failure from a doctoral class in the institution of which she now is a leader.
What struck me most was that the majority of the time I had been asked this same question, I would have sounded just like the Dean did on her first try. I had never seen this as wrong, yet it was still misleading and perpetuating an idea I have thought a lot about as a lifelong learner, employee, friend, woman of color: Why do we define hard work the way we do, and how does this limit us?
Working “Hard” has been ingrained in my understanding of American culture for as long as I can remember. From Arthur on PBS showing us that his “lucky pencil” could only get him so far in doing well on his spelling test, to the millennial college anthem of “Work Hard, Play Hard,” and practically every famous person attributing their successes to their own hard work, we use the core tenets of individualism as a way to not only justify our doings, but also to motivate and inspire others to do the same.
Yet, whatever the “why” behind our society’s current value on work ethic, it’s no secret that the arrow from hard work to success is rarely, if ever, linear. Of course, individual motivation and personality play a factor in any decision-making, but how does emphasizing this message simultaneously perpetuate societal injustices and neglect to underscore the importance of diversity?
When we focus on the individual, we are losing a vital but often overlooked part of success: the “Us.” “Us” means our environments, families, communities, but also our history, behaviors, and interactions. I am not talking about just supporting one another or congratulating someone on their accomplishments; I am talking about going beyond attributing your successes or someone else’s to a strong work ethic alone. We need to celebrate, recognize, and act upon the fact that an individual’s success is intertwined with the systems we live in — systems that in turn have their own unique conglomeration of power, privileges, opportunities, and adversities.
We need to celebrate, recognize, and act upon the fact that an individual’s success is intertwined with the systems we live in — systems that in turn have their own unique conglomeration of power, privileges, opportunities, and… Share on XThink about it this way: How can you pull yourself up by your bootstraps, if you never had “boots” to begin with? Can you eat healthier if you don’t have access to a grocery store? Can you start a new venture if you don’t have your own funds or access to funding? You might be thinking: Of course – you just have to work harder, persevere, or the new buzzword: have “grit.” And sure, these things may help, but why should we only focus on fixing our individual behaviors, instead of the systems and structures around us that are at play? Let’s make that idealistic arrow from hard work to success look less like a straight line, and more like a curve – molded to the unique circumstances of an individual’s life.
Whether you are a mentor, advisor, teacher, caregiver, or leader, if anyone asks how you got to where you are: I challenge you to go beyond regurgitating your resume. I challenge you to use your learning from your successes and do something about the things you didn’t have control of when you were on your journey. For example, mentor or sponsor an intern who holds an identity similar to or different from yours — maybe someone who comes from the town you came from, or perhaps didn’t have the opportunity for professional development you had that was pivotal to your own success. I challenge you to be open and vulnerable about the things that “come easy” for you, the things you didn’t have to worry about for whatever reason, as well as the things that were a struggle because of the circumstances of identities you hold, or that society holds you to.
If anyone asks how you got to where you are: I challenge you to go beyond regurgitating your resume. Be open and vulnerable about the things that “come easy” for you, the things you didn’t have to worry about for whatever reason,… Share on XIf you are early in your career and life like me, and are looking for advice for your personal or professional growth: I challenge you to seek out the narrative beyond the “I” you may hear expressed at your next coffee chat or networking event. What are the privileges and/or disadvantages that shaped this person’s definition of hard work? Who and what were the resources, circumstances, environments, community, and people behind this person’s achievements? It is time we look past what a resume, LinkedIn page, or salary grade might imply.
Let’s redefine hard work: It’s not on you or me – it’s about Us. As the African Proverb states – “It Takes a Village to Raise a Child.” I like to say it also takes a village to break down barriers, open doors, and find success, whatever that may be for you.
I was invited to talk to middle school kids for their Career Day. Because my path to “success” wasn’t at all linear, I didn’t think what I had to say would be valuable to anyone. I explained this to the friend who invited me to take part in Career Day and she said, “Everyone needs to hear that the path to success is sometimes a mess!” So I told the truth at that career day – that I didn’t know if I even wanted to go to college, that once I got to college, I flunked out in my first semester, that I decided college wasn’t for me but my dad convinced me to try again at another college… When I talked about flunking out of my first university, there were audible gasps from the children in the classroom; my guess is no one had ever told them that one CAN recover from that if one has a support system who values education.
This was a big moment for me – that my truth, my struggles to get my education started could resonate with others. I was lucky that I had boots, and a support system who gave me the bootstraps. Without my dad encouraging me to try again, I would probably have never finished my bachelors degree, much less gone on to get a PhD.
Thank you for this blog post!