Finding More of Myself in 2020
Honestly, I haven’t wanted to write for a few weeks and it’s mostly because there is not a lot externally going on. That’s what I usually write about publicly – being outside, travel, nature, etc.
Walking some of the South West Coast Path in October
Work is keeping me tied to what feels like a never-ending routine. I’ve opened myself up to more freelance opportunities, more ‘what about the possibility of X’ chats, more internal and external development of my diversity in the outdoors project. I’ve loved doing this, but the trade off is days and evenings on the phone and in front of the computer. Less exploring, more actioning. I’ve committed to getting fitter, joined a CrossFit gym, I’m making space for that in my routine. I recently did a course with Loulou Storey in which she reminded me I own clothes other than pjs, leggings and Zoom-appropriate tops. I am now thinking more about getting dressed, that needs space in my routine too. It’s all house centric and internal centric. It’s emotional brain work, not experiential outside work.
It works for 2020. It’s productive and sensible, but what it actually means is I spend all my time in my head and I’m noticing a few things emerging. I was lying awake at 3am thinking about these things. I wanted to write about them, so now it’s 5am and I am. This might end up being a public blog post, it might not. It might end up being more than one blog, it might not. That doesn’t matter right now, what matters is the urge to write which I haven’t had for a while.
Exploring how to develop my work
Facilitating at a Rebel Book Club session, London, UK
I’m an extrovert and I get my energy from other people. If you are into Myers Briggs (that’s right, I love a personality mapping theory), I’m an ENFP. Despite external suggestions otherwise, 2020 has been a good year for me as this personality. I’ve given in to my constant urge to ‘campaign’ and have started All The Elements to support individuals who are working to diversity the UK outdoors through groups and projects.
This does two things – uses my practical knowledge of businesses, small organisations and development of projects with tiny teams and limited resources, and also lets me work with new people. Teasing out new ideas and amazing threads from individuals pushing to create change – predominantly but not exclusively women. Women in leadership, even if they don’t know it yet. The pieces from my dissertation on Authentic Leadership for Women surface in each call – I remember why I felt compelled to research this area in the first place. I leave every zoom meeting buzzing, energised, excited for them, hopeful for them.
A couple of weeks ago I realised I need more of this, I want to do it better, help more people – I’m looking into coaching qualifications for 2021. There are rare moments in my life of clarity and making the decision to do a coaching qualification just sits comfortably with me. There is no doubt in my mind it’s the right decision. I am unwavering in my certainty about it.
The Impact of Black Lives Matter
I’m also having a reawakening around personal identity. When Black Lives Matter exploded in the UK earlier this year, there were a lot of things that happened for me emotionally and I continue to process new revelations every week. The honest truth is that I was drained and exhausted by it in a way that I never expected or could have planned for. I was falling asleep at 6pm unable to process any more external stimuli – other people’s opinions, other people’s feelings, other people’s learnings. Social media was an absolute minefield, because even well-meaning people spouting their thoughts would send me spiralling. I’d think about people’s comments for days afterwards. I still think about some of them now.
In one memorable moment, I had an online ‘debate’ with individuals on Facebook on the edge of my network about how calling a bra racist actually wasn’t as unreasonable as the headline suggested. I thought they just misunderstood and simply explaining the missing facts would make everyone realise that this is a bigger conversation. I was wrong. What ensued was an exhausting back and forth about the existence of nude bras, the category were the bras technically under (‘if you search nude bras, the bras in question come up BUT the description on the product doesn’t actually say they are nude bras’), the personal bra colour choices of those in the conversation (‘buying nude bras is not a thing, I always buy bras that are the colour of the top I’m wearing’) and whether white people like their own colour categories (‘I personally wouldn’t like my skin colour to be called ‘fudge’ or ‘cinnamon’). I was left wondering why, when we are talking about racism or subconscious bias, people are so resistant? If someone had an experience I didn’t understand that was upsetting to them, why would I not just believe them and accommodate it? If a domestic violence victim told me a particular comment or turn of phrase upset or triggered them, I would take steps to remove the stressor. It takes a tiny bit of effort from me and makes the world of difference to them. Why do you care if a bra that is designed for black women is changed from being described as ‘tobacco’ to ‘cocoa’? What practical difference does this make to your life? Why do you feel so strongly against this happening? What is going on internally for you?
“The conversations I saw play out on online channels and in real life impacted the way I see my network and the world around me in a big way. ”
The conversations I saw play out on online channels and in real life impacted the way I see my network and the world around me in a big way. I felt at the time like a veil had been lifted from my eyes. There were so many conversations that clearly demonstrated that people really don’t get it.
I have news for you – even if you are making the right noises and saying the right things, there is something different about the conversation that doesn’t sit right. It is insincere if you aren’t doing the work and the reading. I don’t know why and I can’t even tell you why it’s so clear, but it’s a screaming siren as you speak. Maybe it’s because if you have done the work there is more substance and there are more educated questions – ‘I can’t believe X’, ‘Have you experienced Y?’, ‘Remember that time when Z happened? I understand why you looked so upset now’. There were also a lot of people who thought they were above it, that they are already inclusive, that they understand enough. That they’ve read one book of one person’s experience and now they are the leading expert in the subject, sooooo anti-racist and spouting about it to everyone who would listen.
These types of conversations made me shut down – I can’t engage when I know there is no depth and also no desire for deeper understanding. I suddenly felt like I actually knew no one properly. I had lived my life making internal assumptions about the levels of understanding and care of my predominantly white network. I can’t explain how wrong I was or what that realisation is like, but it was huge and horrible and disconcerting. I was thrown completely off kilter. Add into the mix the realisation that I have massively compartmentalised experiences of micro-aggressions and even outright racism into a box that I never open, which then was having the lid lifted every time I read someone else’s experiences online. It was a lot. It continues to be a lot.
I wrote blog posts highlighting books on race relations in UK and short videos to help people understand the broader topics. It took me a lot of time and mental energy to do this. A friend (white) in my network saw my post, and copied and pasted the resources into their own list with no credit or context. My feelings on it confused me at at the time – I wanted to help people but stripped of their context, how useful were the resources? Should I be seeking credit for something that was about increasing understanding and doing more good? Had they even looked at them – some of them were wholly inappropriate for their audience? Friends who noticed it happen were outraged on my behalf. I didn’t have the energy to tackle it myself, so I let it go telling myself I would address it later. I still haven’t done this – I don’t know if I will ever have the emotional energy to take it on.
Standing in my privilege
Prior to 2020, I rarely talked about diversity and race unless someone directly asked me, but I was doing my own work. As a privileged individual of mixed race in the UK, there were many layers to my learning – culture, belonging, acceptance and yes, privilege. But in a different way to this new awakening of privilege on social media. Different to the way it is now required to be dropped into every conversation as a byline apology that then supposedly makes it ok. Being conscious of your privilege is important – talking about it all the time to prove you are ‘on the right side of history’ is less so.
While most people in my network had always been blind to their privilege, I’d always been hyper aware of mine. It made me shy away from fully embracing my difference. Look at my qualifications, the nice things I have, my education, my experiences – stop asking me where I’m from or my opinions on diversity. I can’t help you, there is no diversity here. I was absolutely blinded by my privilege. It held me back. I didn’t step up.
“It’s taken me a long time to realise that not stepping up doesn’t mean that someone less represented gets to fill that space instead of me”
It’s taken me a long time to realise that not stepping up doesn’t mean that someone less represented gets to fill that space instead of me – the opportunities to create change are open to me because of my privilege. If I don’t take that space, someone probably even more privileged than me and less diverse steps into the space I leave. Often without any qualms about doing so. I have to take the space because I can and create as much change as possible for those who cannot do so themselves. After all, I can shout from the rooftops about not being diverse all I like, for them to pick someone more worthy, but the world outside sees me as diverse anyway. And here’s the thing – I am diverse, in some ways more diverse than those I have been so desperately trying to step aside for. As a mixed race person in the UK, I am a member of only 2% of our population and I have a unique perspective that I can share. It adds to the complex tapestry of our world and our interwoven stories.
Entering 2021
I move into 2021 feeling more like myself than I have in a long time. It feels like the highs and lows of 2020 have allowed me the space and given me the confidence to find where I need to be and what I need to do next. I want to tell more stories (my own and other people’s) and my Lonely Planet award will give me the platform to do this on a larger scale. I want to help more people (and meet more amazing people doing good work) and developing my current consulting work into coaching will allow me to do more of this. I want to generally be happier and healthier, and I continue to develop where my boundaries are and where to direct my energy. Self care includes making time for exercise, art and writing, preparing meals, deliberating choosing clothes, taking the dog somewhere different to walk, focusing my work on what makes me happy, as well as what’s important. These things are not small and not stupid. I have to regularly remind myself of this. I will regularly remind myself of this.
2021, I feel like I’m ready for you. I’m walking into the New Year with re-found confidence, an open heart, an optimistic soul and more importantly a flexible plan. Let’s do this.
