Got you fooled

I’ve always dressed in my costume, not theirs. I’ve never been invited to their party, so I made my own. And all these years later, as outspoken and “edgy” as I’ve been, I still feel like I’m an impostor that everyone else sees dressed up in an acceptable costume while underneath my mask I’m still snickering to myself wondering how I even got into this whole “business professional” thing. 

I’ve talked a lot about how culture validates one type of success, leaving out all of the beautiful colors and textures of our lives that have nothing to do with our work (ahem, my BBQ skills to start). One thing that really gets me riled up is being praised for my “authenticity.” I speak at a conference, answer the moderator’s questions, and find myself complimented more for my candor as I am for the content of what I say. Don’t get me wrong, praise is amaze. But it makes me sad for the world that saying what I think is unique. Like, are y’all lying all the time? Please enlighten me. 

This is likely so perplexing to me because I don’t actually belong, like, anywhere. I snuck in the back door and raided the hors d'oeuvres table when no one was looking. I’m the Little Mermaid at the dinner table for the first time, combing my beautiful hair with a fork. I’m motherfucking Curly Sue. 

It’s helped me and it’s hurt me, my story. This derelict-turned-outlier-entrepreneur. It’s been celebrated and it’s been mocked. But we can only do our best. The truth is (and what I’m about to say is Girlboss sacrilege) but none of us belong. What we get to do in this lifetime is build belonging. To choose our families, friends, and what we’re willing to tolerate. To build community. And to determine for ourselves what greatness looks like, even if it defies the paradigm the rest of the world has agreed upon. And it’s usually the things outside of the norm that end up being your superpowers. 

So...Boo! Gotcha!