Good morning. How are you feeling during this unusual holiday season? I’m doing alright; I finally made a dent in my Christmas shopping, which has deflated my anxiety a bit.
I don’t know how to introduce today’s essay topic other than to say it’s something I think about a lot: girl bossing, and whether I hate it or not. “Hate,” of course, is a strong word. “Resent” or “question” more aptly describe where I’ve come around to, six years after Sophia Amoruso’s business biography, #GirlBoss, came out (which, admittedly, rests on my bookshelf).
I’m certainly not alone in feeling over the whole concept. Googling “girl-boss-problematic” yields many results that reflect my intuitive distrust of the movement. Do the same and you will find many engrossing think pieces that explicate how the trend has misled women into believing we can dismantle the patriarchy by purchasing feminist-branded products or joining a female-owned co-working space, rather than tending to the actual social systems that oppress us. It turns out that morphing feminist ideals into a capitalistic enterprise is more than just eyeroll-worthy, it’s doing us actual harm.
So, I am behind in commenting on the topic, but then again, I wrote the following short essay last year. It’s my personal take on what it was like to be immersed in the culture of glossy ambition while attending Create Cultivate’s San Francisco conference last fall. I think it holds up, except for the anachronistic setting of an in-person conference, which is currently a bygone memory. Though not without genuinely inspirational moments, the event was a confusing experience that left me feeling slightly outside of whatever was going on there.
[I should say that Create Cultivate is not responsible for the term, “girl boss;” I’m taking the liberty of conflating the two because they exist in the same neighborhood of career empowerment.]
The Girl Boss Paradox
“This is a clothing line I started for the active working woman,” a young woman said mechanically as she handed me a flyer with a coupon code for her online shop. “I’m hustling,” she then declared. It was at once assertive and sheepish. The girl knew her audience. We were at a digital marketing conference for millenial women. We were all there because we were “hustling.”
The proclamation resounded in my mind, cutting through the accumulation of rousing career advice from various speakers. “I’m hustling.” It was as if to announce, recognize me, I’m one of you, doing the thing we’re all here to do: Hustle. The buzzword was just one snippet of the motivational code that had become an essential part of our programming as self-made millennial women. Rise and grind. Work party. Lean in. Lean OUT. Give ourselves permission for self care. Say no more often. STOP SAYING SORRY. Find our tribe. Follow our intuition. Improve our gut health?
I cracked a supportive smile and dropped the flyer into my tote. Next to my new planner that would be the gateway to my goal setting and girl bossing. Next to my complimentary hairspray that I earned in exchange for sassily shaking my hair in a branded slow motion video. Next to the free snacks I’d squirreled away. An impulse I suddenly judged for being rooted in a “scarcity mindset.”
As the fearless flyer girl disappeared into the sea of trendy blazers, I started to reflect on the day. I mentally swiped through all the shiny, impeccably dressed speakers, and wondered which entrepreneurial wonder woman resonated with me. Who would I have chosen to be my “speed mentor?” Had I been assigned one, that is. Had I paid for a ticket, that is. Had my boyfriend not gotten me in on account of his relationship with the vodka sponsor, that is.
Did I identify with the “real talk” businesswoman, whose f bombs suggested, I may be wearing this Chanel bouclé suit, but I know what’s up, ladies. “Whenever I feel insecure,” she shared from the pastel-hued stage, “I just imagine I have the confidence of any mediocre white man.” A consenting snicker spread over the audience.
Or maybe it was the fashion blogger known for her bold, exuberant outfits who sat on the panel with an enthusiastic, but affected sass. When her eagerness failed to charm the moderator into giving her more attention than her counterparts, her humanity shined through. I swore I caught a pained grimace emerge through her peppy mask. She even appeared to lose interest a few times, gazing off, wounded and distracted.
Surprisingly, it was the creative director who juggled being a mother and a business owner. I was neither of those things, but there was something about her countenance that resonated. She shared her uncertainty and persistent creative blockage earnestly, yet confidently. She didn’t have a show face. She just sat there judiciously, looking fabulous but natural. Tired but real. Depleted but humbly determined.
I was already a fan of her work, and it was astounding to hear firsthand that she was still able to explore her passions, even with kids, and with the noise of our culture shouting at us to be more, or less, or whatever it felt like shouting according to the day.
I’d long feared that having kids meant sacrificing moments that once fulfilled you, that life would start to take a more rigid shape with plenty of room for work, but little space for creative passions. But she managed to remain soft and curious, flying independently and soaring above the rhetoric. Even her outfit stood out in its new bohemian sensibility, refreshing among the polish. Yes, she would be the perfect mentor, if I qualified for mentorship. Which, again, I didn’t. But somehow this mini epiphany – which had nothing to do with the actual themes discussed onstage – was victory enough.
The latest Lizzo anthem jolted me back to the present moment, the lyrics urging fierce independence and fiercer hair. Kourtney Kardashian was up next, the keynote speaker. Her secret to doing-it-all was taking important business calls from the car while en route to pick up her kids – after her daily workout and steam room session. #SelfCare
10 Things to Fill You Up
This Liana Finck cartoon, which pegs us in our collective phone addiction. The most bewildering moment is when I find myself in a dizzying loop of checking, asking myself, how did I get here?
“Should Couples Fight,” by Karley Sciortino for Vogue.
“The reality is, you can fight without being a dick, and you can be a dick without fighting.”
14 Lalah Delia Affirmations to Remind You of Your Power. I’ve never been big on reciting affirmations, but they sure can come in handy when you need them. I think the idea is to use them regularly before you “need” them though. 🙃 I’ve been trying them more lately.
Believer Magazine’s “Survival Diaries,” a roundup of essays by various writers recounting strategies for surviving this year, including: working out during lockdown, using thought to distance oneself from painful experiences, and the value of hanging onto desire.
“Someone somewhere says we’re going to have a meat shortage or something. Sometimes on YouTube I do the Tracy Andersons. Sometimes the BodyFit by Amy. Sometimes the HASfit or the MadFfit or the one with the lady and the two-pound weights for four minutes that spaghettis my arms. In Zoom therapy I ask Dr. John why the panic hits hardest when I’m still. When I’m in bed. When I try to read. When I’m sitting down for dinner.”
I also “do the Tracy Andersons” on YouTube and feel very seen.
This checkered Moroccan rug which, I’ve gotta say, would really pull the room together.
“4 Proud Bookworms on the Personal Significance of Being ‘Well Read,’” a beautiful fashion spread and Q&A in Elle that profiles some of the gals behind GAL (Girls at Library), one of my favorite online journals about all things book-related.
This chocolate get-up, and basically everything from independent label, Gil Rodriguez.
This silly comic, which pretty much sums me up this season.
Jordan Firstman’s impression of someone on the internet with really exciting news, which I may have been guilty of doing when I announced this newsletter! But it really was exciting, wasn’t it??
Revisiting “People I’ve Been Sad,” the Christine and the Queens song I listened to a ton when it came out at the beginning of the year, and realizing what a perfect quarantine song it is. Chris is a beautiful songwriter, capable of channeling a very specific melancholic power. Official song linked above, live performance below.
Extra thing: We celebrated Hannukah on Zoom this year! I’m so grateful for the family members who made it happen. I’m also pretty proud of how my latkes turned out.
I also celebrate Christmas, so I have tamales to look forward to, too. 👏🏼
Alright, that’s it for now. Wishing you a very happy holiday week!
Thanks for reading,
Vanessa
Enjoyed this one, Vanessa. Provocative & thoughtful. Also, your resonance with Taylor makes a lot of sense... and Jordan Firstman is absolutely hilarious. I’ve been enjoying the newsletters. Cheers & Happy Hanukkah!
This is my favorite piece of writing so far. I love the introspection.