Culture 22 October 2018
When I was 13, my mother knocked on my bedroom door to show me the pictures she had taken of me at my 8th grade graduation. The one she had put on top was of me taken from the side, walking towards the stage to accept my diploma. At five-foot-seven I was already much taller than my peers - male and female - and my long stride was clearly the subject of the picture. My legs spanned the entire frame.
“You know, sweetheart," my mom said, “You should really work on taking smaller steps. It isn't ladylike to move so fast."
My mother, a pretty, petite blonde from a middle class midwestern family, was only trying to help. She wanted me to be successful. My face went red, and I didn't respond.
I think about that day a lot. It was the first time someone had told me outright that I was too much. As I attempted to follow my mother's advice and make myself smaller, I grew another 3 inches.
In the years since, I've heard that same message over and over again: you're too loud, you're too big, you're too plain, you're too flippant, you're too serious. The messages were always contradictory, and often about things well outside of my control. But one thing was clear: I was too much in key ways, and if I wanted to succeed I needed to be small, quiet, reserved. Smart without taking center stage. Funny without being witty. Pretty without drawing attention to myself. And those were just the things my mother told me. I complied. I walked in the space that felt safe. I called myself opinionated but never brash, educated but polite, tall but fine with taking small steps.
About a year and a half ago, Hillary Clinton lost the 2016 presidential election. Something inside of me broke. Not only because the reality of who had won and why was sinking in, but because Hillary Clinton was the god damned embodiment of walking that line of “too much" and “just right." She was smart but didn't push it in your face. She was funny without making laugh-out-loud jokes. She was pretty, but wore pantsuits because the media 15 years earlier made fun of her ankles. She was taking all of the advice and using it! She was a senator! A Secretary of State! A presidential candidate for a major party!
You're not too much - you're more than enough
And people still hated her.
She was still too much. People “just didn't trust her" or “just didn't like her voice" or found her ambition off putting. She wasn't “authentic" - whatever the hell that means. People made comments about her that didn't make any sense. She spent years - decades! - doing the things she was told to do. She took her husband's last name, put her own political ambitions aside, let the men in her life lead, and walked that tight line between being smart enough to play the game and being quiet enough look like she had just accidentally won a few rounds.
There are countless stories that begin on the morning of November 9, 2016, when we all realized that Donald Trump would be the next president. Mine began much earlier - in July 2000, when my mom told me my stride was too long and I needed to take smaller steps. But that morning is where my story bends and becomes relevant. November 9, 2016 is when I took my first long stride since that conversation with my mother all those years ago.
It took a momentous event - the election of Donald Trump - to force me examine my own part in the larger narrative. I wasn't using my voice, and I didn't care to. It's hard to care, to be involved. It's hard to push against a system that you are ultimately comfortable in. My mother - white, able-bodied, beautiful, rich - and this world was made to cushion her, as it was made to cushion me. All I had to do was play by the rules and my life would be easy. And it was. I had an easy life. I kept quiet. I was politically active the way many privileged white women are: tangentially, softly, from a distance. My indignation of being told to be small, quiet, easy was nothing compared to the rewards I reaped by playing along.
I realized, all at once, that it wasn't just about keeping me quiet and easy; it was about keeping all women quiet and easy. It was about giving white, able-bodied, cis, straight women just enough of the benefits of patriarchy so that they do the hard work of keeping other women down. It is an elegant system: make me feel bad about myself, but give me an easy path in life and I do the rest. I put myself above women who didn't “conform" and kept them down to keep myself up.
After Trump was elected, I wanted to do something. Anything. I reached out to my childhood friend, Sarah Lerner, and asked her out to lunch. She was the most politically active person I knew. We talked for hours, and I knew we could do something special. We could use what we were given, white privilege, and create a space where women could rise to the top of political discourse. I wanted to start a podcast.
Sarah flat out turned me down.
I invited her to lunch again, and told her I had made a plan to launch the podcast. She reminded me that she had said no. I replied, “I know. But it's just an outline. Just take a look at it." She did, and I knew I had her. “Okay," she said. “Let's give it a shot."
Fifteen months later, we've made that space. Men make up 73% of media management. And because of that, women's voices are often sidelined, ignored, or insulted. Women are told we're too emotional for politics, or just flat out not smart enough. We get interrupted when we speak up. We're told to get back in our place. Hellbent rejects that. Here's five things we've learned, that no one told us about launching Hellbent:
You're not too much - you're more than enough. Maybe you've heard this before, like I did. But there's a difference in knowing it and believing it to be true. So maybe you need to read this quote by Marianne Williamson every day, tape it to your mirror, do whatever you need to make it really resonate:
“Your playing small does not serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you."
Think bigger, and you will be.
The boys club is alive and well (in podcasting too). The reason why Hellbent is known as “for those who resist and persist" is because despite the fact that we are currently riding an exciting wave of feminist revitalized activity, there is work to be done. For one, in the media industry alone, men occupy 73% of top media management positions. When I went to a large podcasting conference last year, the attendees were overwhelmingly male, and almost every panel I went to was led by men. Podcasting is a new media format, but it is already starting to follow old models. We can change that.
Vulnerability is invaluable. There's always a temptation to “play like a boy," to “act less feminine" and disown what societal norms have coined as female characteristics in order to “fit in" with the boys club. However, last time I checked, a smile registers the same in every language, and so does a tear, and to disregard emotional intelligence, is to sacrifice just that: intelligence. Leading with vulnerability has in fact, produced the most authentic interviews, created meaningful content for our audience and led to legitimate relationships that make the Hellbent community uniquely real.
If you're uncomfortable, you're doing it right. There are so many days that I think, “Well, I can't un-learn that." (Don't google “incel" if you'd like to sleep tonight.) Despite how uncomfortable it can be, and how much easier wrapping myself up in a cocoon of white-able-bodied-women privilege would be, this is a barometer for the work that needs to be done. Chances are, if you are uncomfortable, if it feels hard, you are moving in the right direction of making a difference.
Meet someone where they are. Recognizing that everyone is coming from their own “prior-text" their own life experience, just like my mom, you have to meet someone where they are. So, wherever you are, if you're willing to listen, be challenged, think critically and make your own choice, Hellions everywhere can put our heads down on our pillows at night and feel like we did something right.
Through Hellbent, we have a community of thoughtful, engaged listeners, overwhelmingly female. In every episode, we have a section called “Gratitude Check" because while the political landscape today can be overwhelming at the very least, we can all dig deep and find something good in our lives. We take something normally seen as a disadvantage in politics (openness and vulnerability) and make it something positive. We want to tell our stories as women, to shift the lens through which we view the news. We employ and contract women and pay them fairly for the work they do. We accept feedback and take time to think through and discuss criticism and dissenting opinions. We own our mistakes and push to be more intersectional, more nuanced, and stronger allies. This podcast and this community have made me a better feminist, a better ally, a better citizen, and a better human being. What I learned in the past fifteen months is that to change the world, we have to change ourselves. I had to take that big, long stride into the fray and know that I would come out the other side as the person I knew I could be.
5 Min Read
Sometimes it takes falling to rock bottom in order to be built back up again. I learned this many years ago when the life I'd carefully built for myself and my family suddenly changed. But in those times, you learn to lean on those who love you – a friend, family member or someone who can relate to what you've been through. I was lucky enough to have two incredible women help me through one of my lowest moments. They taught me to love myself and inspired me to pass on their lessons each da
If it weren't for the empowering women who stepped up and brought fitness back into my life, I wouldn't be standing – in the door of my own business – today.
In 2010, I was a wife, a mother of three, and had filtered in and out of jobs depending on what my family needed from me. At different points in my career, I've worked in the corporate world, been a stay-at-home mom, and even started my own daycare center. Fitness has always been a part of my life, but at that point being a mom was my main priority. Then, life threw a curveball. My husband and I separated, leading to a very difficult divorce.
These were difficult times. I lost myself in the uncertainty of my future and the stress that comes with a divorce and found myself battling anorexia. Over a matter of months, I lost 40 lbs. and felt surrounded by darkness. I was no longer participating in my health and all efforts to stay active came to a halt. I didn't want to leave my home, I didn't' want to talk to people, and I really did not want to see men. Seeing my struggles, first my sister and then a friend, approached me and invited me to visit the gym.
After months of avoiding it, my sister started taking me to the gym right before closing when it wasn't too busy. We started slow, on the elliptical or the treadmill. This routine got me out of the house and slowly we worked to regain my strength and my self-esteem. When my sister moved away, my good friend and personal trainer started working out with me one-on-one early in the morning, taking time out of her busy schedule to keep me on track toward living a healthy life once again. Even when I didn't want to leave the house, she would encourage me to push myself and I knew I didn't want to let her down. She helped me every step of the way. My sister and my friend brought fitness back into my everyday routine. They saved my life.
I began to rely on fitness, as well as faith, to help me feel like myself again. My friend has since moved away, but, these two women made me feel loved, confident and strong with their empowerment and commitment to me. They made such an incredible impact on me; I knew I needed to pay it forward. I wanted to have the same impact on women in my community. I started by doing little things, like running with a woman who just had a baby to keep her inspired and let her know she's not alone. I made sure not to skip my regular runs, just in case there was a woman watching who needed the inspiration to keep going. These small steps of paying it forward helped me find purpose and belonging. This gave me a new mentality that put me on a path to the opportunity of a lifetime – opening a women's only kickboxing gym, 30 Minute Hit.
About four years ago, I was officially an empty nester. It was time to get myself out of the house too and find what I was truly passionate about, which is easier said than done. Sitting behind a desk, in a cubicle, simply didn't cut it. It was hard to go from an active and chaotic schedule to a very slow paced, uneventful work week. I felt sluggish. Even when I moved to another company where I got to plan events and travel, it was enjoyable, but not fulfilling. I wanted to be a source of comfort to those struggling, as my sister and dear friend had been to me. I wanted to impact others in a way that couldn't be done from behind a desk.
I began to rely on fitness, as well as faith, to help me feel like myself again.
When I heard about 30 Minute Hit, I was nervous to take the leap. But the more I learned about the concept, the more I knew it was the perfect fit for me. Opening my own gym where women can come to let go of their struggles, rely on one another and meet new people is the best way for me to pass on the lessons I learned during my darkest times.
Kickboxing is empowering in itself. Add to it a high energy, female-only environment, and you have yourself a powerhouse! The 30 Minute Hit concept is franchised all over North America, acting as a source of release for women who are just trying to get through their day. I see women of all ages come into my gym, kick the heck out of a punching bag and leave with a smile on their face, often times alongside a new friend. 30 Minute Hit offers a convenient schedule for all women, from busy moms to working women, to students and senior citizens. A schedule-free model allows members to come in whenever they have a free half hour to dedicate to themselves. Offering certified training in kickboxing and a safe environment to let go, 30 Minute Hit is the place for women empowerment and personal growth.
Through my journey, I have learned that everyone is going through something – everyone is on their own path. My motivating factor is knowing that I can touch people's lives everyday just by creating the space for encouragement and community. It's so easy to show people you care. That's the type of environment my team, clients and myself have worked hard to create at our 30 Minute Hit location.
Fitness saved my life. If it weren't for the empowering women who stepped up and brought fitness back into my life, I wouldn't be standing – in the door of my own business – today. The perfect example of women empowering women – the foundation to invincibility.
This article was originally published September 12, 2019.