Living Outside of Fear: Success is a Mindset

My hope is that this essay will inspire at least one person to do something radical, in spite of fear, in order to experience life in a positive way like they have never experienced it before. To that person, please note that someone else is waiting to be inspired by your courage.

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“Why are you here, Amanda?”

I was flabbergasted; downright stunned by the question. Admittedly, I was also taken with indignation. With a furrowed brow, I snatched a piece of paper from off of the commercial printer, as I looked piercingly at the senior attorney who asked me what I thought was a ridiculous question. It was well after ten o’clock at night on a Thursday and we were both in the office working. No, toiling. “I’m working. I’m doing exactly what you’re doing, of course,” was my quick, witty reply. My mind raced with self-doubt: “Is he questioning my work ethic? I’m stuck in the office late every night. I work really hard to be here. Why is he always picking on me?”

“No, I mean, really, why are you here? You are talented. You are passionate. You can do anything in the world that you want to do. Why don’t you go and do something great with your life?” He had a stern facial expression as he spoke, but something about it seemed raw with emotion. I could tell this conversation was nothing like we had before. There was a desperation in his voice.

“I could ask you the same,” I stated, curious as to his response. My mood shifted. This conversation was more substantive than I had imagined. 

“I stayed because I never realized I had another choice.” He put his head back down to continue peering over the document he read. He did not utter another word. Somehow, he returned to a solemn normalcy. I took the piece of computer paper, trekked slowly back into my office, closed the door behind me and sat down in my chair. I cried. He was right. And, the forthright answer to his question was that I was afraid to leave because, like him, I did not realize I had another choice.

Success defined by fear is not success

In fact, I habitually cloaked myself in a fear of failure to remain committed to success. Failure was easy to define. Failure meant living in poverty, being inconsequential in this world and being relegated to becoming another racially-demeaning statistic: all things I experienced, knowingly and unknowingly, as a child. I became motivated by a need to distance myself from failure. I did not want to be marred by my childhood circumstances or bleak prospects the world imposed upon me for the rest of my life.

My take on success, however, was less clear. I needed direction. I took cues from my environment. In high school, college and even law school, that direction came from educators and other school leaders. The motto went: Excel in school, then you are successful. Success meant obtaining high marks and innumerable accolades. A dear law professor would call these things the “gold stars needed on your resume.” Gold stars convey to people that you are worth the investment, that you are committed to success and that you are valuable. For a person of color from my humble background, it could be your ticket to a potentially promising future into the world ahead of me. As a young person, I was inoculated with the belief that my worth was dependent upon other people’s assessment of my value. It was easier to attempt to reach for someone else’s ideal of excellence than it was for me to explore the depth of my own creativity, ambition and intelligence. I needed someone else to draw out the roadmap. I became the ideal student, so I knew I could execute the roadmap. I could follow someone else's blueprint. I never explored the alternative, though - what is my worth without other people’s validation?* Is it possible for me to be proud of my uniqueness? 

Frankly, exploring the alternative was insignificant from my youthful perspective. I found worth in my academic achievements. The more I succeeded, the more I received acclaim and praise. So, I wanted to reach for what appeared to be impossible. Achieving the impossible meant that I could generate even more distance between myself and any looming sense of failure. If I were told that the odds of succeeding at a particular thing were very small, I wanted to pursue it. I had something to prove to the world, especially to the world that did not see the likes of my kind as the prototype of success. For example, in college, I was told it was too competitive to be admitted into the Honor’s Senior Thesis program, to obtain University Honors and to gain admission into the selective Teach For America program. I worked diligently and accomplished each of these things. In law school, I was told it was nearly impossible to make Law Review, to get an offer from Sidley Austin LLP and to graduate at the top of my class. Each of these accomplishments is a feat I now lay claim to. So many negative opinions to combat can make a person a fighter for all of the right or wrong reasons.

Understand, the narrowly-tailored focus I developed was not built upon any feeling of superiority, or even based upon an established sense of confidence. Quite the opposite. I was on a mission to simply avoid failure and to gain social acceptance. I wanted to belong to a cohort of people the world viewed as consequential. I suppose the fact that we all have a need to belong (https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/between-cultures/201704/belonging) rang true for the deepest sense of my self-worth. I was heavily invested in this mindset. I became a prototypical workaholic. As I would come to understand, this was my attempt to hide my fear of inferiority. 

My workaholism proved abundantly successful for me as a corporate lawyer, where validation came in the form of a massive six-figure income, the prestige of working at big law firms, several pats on the back from my community and countless hours of work. Early on, I did not question this setup. I was entirely too elated to have been included within this framework. Someone saw my value. I was even a token associate, in several ways. I recall a conversation with a partner that explained things to me this way, after I highlighted that there appears to be a discrepancy between the experiences of attorneys of color and white attorneys: “You need to just play the game. That is how you get ahead. You have been given an opportunity not many people get.” Not many people in general, or not many people of my skin tone and sex? I never did ask the partner to clarify. 

The partner made it clear: I was chosen. No, I was lucky. Do not rock the boat and sacrifice your excellence. You have carved a lane for yourself in this world. Work hard and play the game to keep it. I was intimately familiar with playing the game and getting the gold stars. It was how I defined my worth for most of my life. I took this partner’s advice and played successfully for years. I met amazing people, made life-long friends, acquired outstanding advocates and grew professionally in ways I could have only dreamt. Still, each day I was plagued with the consternation that if I made a “mistake” in this playing field, success would be ripped from underneath my feet and I would lose everything I ever accomplished. What of my worth then? I was certain there would be no pats on the back from my community or network under such circumstances. I would have climbed so far to just have fallen extremely hard. Imagine that disgrace.  

During my corporate law tenure, I would learn that I was not the only person battling with a fear of failure. Such a fear was cemented into my work environments. No one ever said a thing, but you could feel it. It was as though I was surrounded by some people who figured that doing anything else would be career suicide,** especially if you wanted to be consequential. I recall a conversation with a different partner who advised that big law was the best career for a lawyer, “Unless, of course, you’re going to run for political office. Otherwise, there is no comparable definition of success.” I remember leaving that partner’s office with a heavy heart. Life cannot be this categorical. Even if I wished to run for office one day, I do not want to be compelled to believe that doing so was my only other option in my professional life. It was clear that playing the game was beginning to produce diminishing returns for purposes of my self-worth. Not only was I feeling the mental and emotional pressure of being a person of color in this professional environment, I was also carrying the social pressure of my profession carried by all of my colleagues. 

For the first time, I realized that someone else’s definition of success did not bring me clarity, but pain. Somehow, I allowed fear to lead me down a path of unhappiness simply to make a point that I could rise above my circumstances. If I could not be accepted by an elite cohort, I could not be successful. That frightened me. Yet, I discovered that success defined by fear is not success. It is self-denial. I denied asking myself a pivotal question: What did I want out of life? If the answer was anything other than joy, passion, self-love and a chance to use my gifts to bring about a positive change in this world, then the answer was indeed the wrong answer.

Remembering myself

I was not always unclear about what I wanted to accomplish. Over the course of my life, I have always been a visionary, just hampered by caution and self-imposed limitations. I wanted to inspire and help others, and I always found a way to apply some of my time doing this. I created a law and business conference for college students, taught elementary school, created a professional women’s Christian connection group, gave keynote speeches for various achievement programs, advocated for diversity and inclusion in corporate America and academic institutions, mentored high school, college, and law students and business professionals, coached student-athletes, tutored elementary school children, sat on numerous panels discussing academic excellence, participated in protests and gave much more of my time and money to many other things. 

All of these activities, though different, have a commonality: success in each area is dependent upon the amount of positive impact to be made in a person’s life. For someone who believes that we are created with a calling upon our lives, this definition of success is the one that brings me the most joy. 

There must be a way to wed my professional skills and business and legal acumen with my desire to build up my community and the leaders within it. I could not succumb to a belief that there is only one route for my success. What would we say to the lawyer who aspires to be an entrepreneur? Or, to the student who believes that you cannot solve tomorrow's problems using yesterday's teaching methods? "That's not how we do things. You'll never make it that way." Not hardly. We must make room for visionaries who think outside of our imperfectly drawn blueprints. They tend to breathe life into our futures and help us to reimagine what is possible. Perhaps, it was time for me to blaze a new path forward. With only one life to live and all of the potential in the world, I have no excuse but to try.

An eye towards the future

This brings me back to the attorney who approached me with the jaw-dropping question at the beginning of this piece: “Why are you here, Amanda?” His question was piercing and honest. His simple question was a seed of encouragement that sprouted into my inspiration to search for a response over these past few years. In so many ways, he pushed me to test the limits of my fear. So, I began a journey of exploration. It came in the form of embracing my linguistic, ethnic and social culture and my personal idiosyncrasies. I knocked on doors, engaged in conversations, took trips, read books, gave speeches, meditated, prayed, lost family members, gained family members and contemplated it all. What I discovered is that life is but a short dance. One that deserves the most effort, creativity and commitment you can put into the twists, turns, jumps and dips. And, if you are lucky enough, you should enjoy as many songs as you can before you bow and take your leave from the dance floor. As for me, I will incorporate some gospel, salsa, R&B, select country and select hip-hop into my playlist. In other words, I am going to sprout out and explore as much as I can this lifetime.

Reflection has also allowed me to appreciate every personal and professional experience in my life, past and present. I have had the opportunity to work with some of the most brilliant minds in the world. I have been coached by passionate leaders. I have been pushed by unrelenting advocates. To those of you who have opened doors for me, encouraged me to grow, took me under your wings and believed in my dreams, the best I can do to extend my gratitude to you is to do the same for others. You have helped shape me, and I do not take this for granted.

At present, I am venturing off to start my own company in business management and strategy consulting, to engage with people, companies and organizations that have a unique vision and a desire to implement positive social impact. I have already started partnering with clients and I have my eyes set on many established and aspiring leaders. Why am I doing this? Because this brings me joy and a chance to use my gifts to bring about a positive change in this world. And, I get to do this unapologetically. 

Entrepreneurship is risky, of course. Yet, I can assure you, I am no longer seeking someone else’s definition of success for my life. I am relying upon God for that direction. For this number, I actually think I’m going to swing dance. I've always wanted to try.

Amanda R. Moncada-Perkins

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Footnotes:

* The purpose of this article is not to invalidate the importance of education. Education is a tool we must fervently provide to every child in our country. I provide my absolute appreciation to all educators committing themselves to enabling our future leaders. I am who I am, in part, because of the educators who committed themselves to my future. Indeed, one particular teacher changed my life for the better. And, I am forever indebted to her. To her, I say, and I have said, “Thank you for everything.” I am, however, challenging the ideation that we (collectively) impose upon our children about their worth. Simply because they may not fulfill our blueprints says nothing about their capabilities. They are and forever will be more than a mark, a testing number or a collection of academic accolades. They are individuals, complete with talent, skills, feelings, dreams and aspirations. We would be wise to facilitate the growth of these many complexities in order that we may mold a greater world than the one we have inherited.

** I use this term with intention. I would like to highlight the increased rates of suicide among attorneys. It is an epidemic and one that deserves ample attention and discourse in the legal profession, in our law schools and in our general communities. I grieve for the lives lost by our professional colleagues as a result of suicide. I am thankful for the loved ones and peers who have listened and for the therapist that assisted me through my own depressive bouts. I am currently working with a client that assists in this effort by counseling firms on beneficial resources to use to address workplace wellness. There is more to be said about suicide, exhaustion and burnout, all of which are outside the scope of this article. Here is an informative American Bar Association article regarding attorney-related suicide: https://www.abajournal.com/magazine/article/attorney_suicide_what_every_lawyer_needs_to_know