Last night, I decided to tag along with my mother to a summit for women in production. I was sleepy. I was hungry. I was tired. I did not want to be anywhere but in my comfortable bed, but I went anyway to make my mother happy. Attending that event turned out to be one of the best decisions I could have made.
Within the crowded auditorium that my mother and I entered together were hundreds of women- older women, younger women, rich women, thrifty women, loud women, funny women, quiet women, witty women, confident women, afro-centric women, trendy women, shy women, nerdy women...you get the idea. These were down-to-earth, real women of all types, and I loved it. I was surrounded by every woman, and I was excited about this discovery.
After a few minutes, everyone settled down and prepared for what was in store for the evening. First, speaker after speaker got on stage one after the other to share their piece on what seems so simple, yet so complex: confidence. "What makes you confident?" or "How did you find your confidence?" were the questions the women answered in their own unique ways.
Many women used quotes to explain their confidence journey, while others incorporated some of their favorite childhood experiences. Each woman was just as interesting, just as captivating, just as confident, yet they were each so incredibly different. It really just put things into perspective for me.
Each woman was telling their tale of how they came to be such a successful filmmaker, director, producer, writer. They talked about their rocky, uncertain journeys filled with set-backs and set-ups. They talked about the deaths of their loved ones and their many failures. They talked about rejection and long, sleepless nights spent crying on the floor. They spoke about job lay-offs, uncomfortable moves across the country, and climbing over barriers...literally. I was noticing a trend in what these women were saying, and the common thread was no longer just "confidence."
They were speaking more about their trials and tribulations than they were their accolades and accomplishments. They were telling us about their failures before they bragged about their victories. They were sharing their darknesses before letting us in on what makes them shine their light. They were not hiding their bitter truths, but speaking on them. They were not faking anything. They were not prancing around in their winnings for all to see. They were not boastful. They didn't make others feel stupid or worthless for not having accomplished similar things. They did not glorify their daily life choices. They were humble. They were not obnoxious in saying what needed to be said. In fact, many of the women were rather reserved when it came time to share their talents. They weren't show-off's. They weren't annoying. They didn't give lectures on how to be perfect and wonderful and great like them. They were real. They owned their realness, and I loved it.
I walked away from this awakening experience with alot more than a validated parking ticket and my mother. I left with quotes that filled my mind and stuck with me like "Confidence is silent. Insecurities are loud; very loud," charges like "Say yes first...then figure out how to do it later," and affirmations like "All is well in my world."
I left feeling refreshed because I saw a bit of myself in every woman that graced the stage in their loud, funny, quiet, witty, confident, afro-centric, trendy, shy, nerdy ways. I left knowing that it is quite alright to find yourself tripping from time to time. I learned that you don't have to fake any victories or brag about them in order to gain respect. There is beauty in the process of unraveling and living in your flaws. There is purpose in everything, even in the aspects of life that seem meaningless or downright terrible.
Last night, I learned that I am my biggest critic and my biggest obstacle. I realized my unhealthy obsession with comparing myself to those who only highlight their victories without sharing their mishaps. I've learned only to look up to women who broadcast the times they have fallen and gotten back up; the women who record their L's, too...not just their W's. I have learned that confidence comes in every form, and I have learned that "She who says she can't and she who says she can are both usually right."
