Boldness, Shame, and Boundaries

Just a couple weeks ago life felt amazing. I attended a Women’s Leadership Conference with 500 other women (and a few men), and felt connected to my power as a bold leader. I was ready to conquer the world. This picture, taken at the event, captured my feeling well.

Then the New York Times broke the news on the 21st of the proposal by the federal government to redefine gender strictly on the basis of birth genitalia, strictly as male or female, and strictly immutable. This move would define myself and any other transgender or gender non-conforming individual out of legal existence as far as the federal government was considered. All hell broke loose in my community, and in myself. A shitstorm of immense proportions that knocked me off my equilibrium and overwhelmed my coping mechanisms.

I spent the following Monday trying to engage in numerous conversations within my local transgender community and our allies, discussing and coordinating our response, all while trying to fulfill the responsibilities of my paid employment and process my own emotional reaction. It was too much. I couldn’t cope. Part way through the day I went into my friend’s office and, with tears running down my face, acknowledged to her that I felt overwhelmed and inadequate to handle the intensity of emotions and the demands I felt on my time and energy. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but I was swimming in a sea of shame, shame that said “I’m not enough.” At a time when I most felt the need to be a leader in my community, I felt like an imposter. I felt inadequate to the task. And I felt ashamed to admit that to myself or anyone else. Shame. So much for feeling Bold AF. She gently counseled me to determine my boundaries and then hold them without shame, which I began to do.

Over the coming days I would continue to struggle with holding boundaries, balancing my engagement with my capacity in time and energy. And not adequately accounting for the impact on my own mental and emotional health. By Wednesday morning I felt defeated. Tears came as I sat at the table eating breakfast. My day had not even begun and my coping mechanisms were failing. At that point, amidst the numerous statements of support and solidarity with myself and my community on social media, only one person had actually reached out to me directly to ask how I was doing. I, on my part, had also not recognized my own need for emotional and mental support and had reached out only to one friend. The combination left me drained and feeling alone as I tried to navigate a wave of external pressure combined with my internal sense of being inadequate to deal with it. I needed to change the narrative. I rumbled with my shame and chose to reach out for the support I needed. Brené Brown in her latest book Dare to Lead reminds us that bold leadership requires vulnerability. A key aspect of vulnerability is acknowledging and naming shame, because only when we name it can we begin to address it.

“Shame,” she writes, “is the fear of disconnection—it’s the fear that something that we’ve done or failed to do, an ideal that we’ve not lived up to or a goal that we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection.”

In the context of this week, I experienced shame because I had expectations of myself and my ability to respond to the situation as a leader that were not realistic. I felt that I had an obligation to engage in every aspect of my community’s efforts to speak out against our erasure, but I failed to fulfill that obligation. I simply could not. I told myself that being bold meant demonstrating my ability to handle everything without wavering. It meant loading up on armor to prove my worthiness. But I don’t need to prove my worth, and I cannot do everything. I needed to clarify and hold my boundaries on what I could realistically do given the limits of my time and energy: physical, mental, and emotional. I needed to allow others to step up and lead. I needed to reach out and let people know what I needed from them. I needed to address the shame gremlins that said I am a failure because I couldn’t meet my own unrealistic expectations of myself.

When I reached the low point mid-week, I began to practice what Brown refers to as shame resilience. As I shared what I was experiencing with others, I was met with empathy, which began to eliminate the sense of shame I felt. As Brown writes: “If we share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive….because shame is a social concept—it happens between people—it also heals best between people. A social wound needs a social balm, and empathy is that balm.”

Acknowledging my need for support and being met with empathy, along with releasing the demands I was placing on myself to engage in everything allowed me to begin to regain my emotional and mental center. It gave me space to practice healthy self-care. I chose how and where to engage and let go of the false shame that told me I was an imposter if I didn’t step up to the plate in every situation. It enabled me to reclaim the truth that I am bold af, because being bold doesn’t mean I have to take on every challenge, and I certainly don’t have to do it alone.

By Friday, which was my birthday, I had reestablished a better balance. As I celebrated my day doing creative activities with a few close friends, my emotional and mental energy recharged. I won’t say I’m ready to take on the world, because I don’t have to. But I am ready to tackle those things I choose to focus my time and energy on, while holding better boundaries that enable me to keep going over the long haul. I read this poem by rupi kaur at precisely the right moment:

the road to changing the world

is never-ending

 -        pace yourself

In the end I was able to contribute my skill, time, and energy to one specific response to this threat. By focusing my engagement I was able to contribute in a meaningful and significant way without completely burning myself out. Today I saw some fruit from that engagement, and it felt very satisfying. I haven’t stopped this proposal, but I have contributed to a valuable conversation that I hope will ease the anxiety of a specific segment of the local transgender community, as well as promote an ongoing conversation to create a safe, more inclusive environment for the LGBTQ community at our local university. We all contribute where we are able.

The shitstorm continues to whirl around me. I still experience anxiety over the potential impact of this proposed redefinition. I feel the anxiety of my community as well, an anxiety that we find difficult to adequately convey to our cisgender allies. I believe and hope that the worst will not come, but regardless of what happens, I will strive to reject the shame of the unrealistic expectations and the fear I place upon myself of feeling that I have to prove my worth. I know my worth. And I know I have a great depth of internal strength to draw on. I also have a community of friends who stand with me and care deeply about me. I am not alone and will not be alone. In that there is amazing strength. And in that I find confidence that no matter how dark this storm gets, we will come out on the other side.  

Speaking Out for the LGBTQ Community

Last week, as I wrote previously, was my third coming out birthday, as well as National Coming Out Day. In celebration of that date, and in recognition of its 20^th anniversary, the Southern Arizona Gender Alliance threw a little party. This organization, which I am proud to be a member of, educates about, advocates for, and supports the transgender and gender non-conforming community across Southern Arizona and across the state. 

I was honored that night to deliver a speech affirming the significance both of SAGA’s 20 years and National Coming Out Day, which I share here for those who were not able to be present. 

I am proud to be transgender. I am proud to be a woman. I am proud to be a demisexual lesbian. For me it’s about the entire LGBTQ community, and I affirm the right of everyone to live authentically as their true selves and to love whomever they choose. I will not go back into the closet ever again.

Reflections on My Third Birthday

This past week marks three years since I first came out to the world. I’ve written about that day here. I consider it my second birthday, which makes me now three years old! (I also have my original birthday later this month, and now I have a rebirth day on March 5. This can be confusing when someone asks me how old I am or when my birthday is!)

A few days ago I received some news that really devasted me, ugly crying in the middle of my office devastating. I’m not going to share the specifics of what happened, but will summarize by saying that something I had really hoped for did not happen for very unexpected and frustrating reasons. I have eagerly pursued a personal and professional growth path for the past two years, and this felt like a real blow to my dreams.

After the initial disappointment settled, I began reflecting on this incident in light of my journey over the past three years. I realized that, without denying the feelings of disappointment, frustration, and anger that I felt, this presented only a speed bump in my life. While it was something I really wanted, not being able to do it, at least at the present moment, is not really a setback. I still have a full slate of opportunities to engage with my community and make an impact. This is pretty amazing, considering that just two short years ago I had only begun working in my new job and was constructing my social network from almost nothing. As one of my closest friends likes to remind me, I have come a long way in a short amount of time. I can show myself patience. I don’t have to accomplish everything right away. Two years ago I sought this friend’s counsel on how to identify opportunities to invest my time and energy. She wisely encouraged me to wait, to look for the areas that I felt most passionate about, and to see what developed. I was all ready to rush ahead and jump at the first opportunity that came along. Thanks to her wise advice, I find myself two years later fully engaged in organizations that align with my core values and passions, rather than frustrated that I had committed myself to things that didn’t really speak to my heart.

My drive to pursue every opportunity has developed as I came into my own self-confidence. I did not use to believe in myself. I didn’t challenge myself to go beyond what I thought I could do. I carefully guarded my time and energy and avoided committing myself to anything that might impinge on those. Above all, I didn’t believe in myself because I wasn’t connected with my true self. My fear of what others might think of me, of failure, and of rejection, fueled a lack of confidence, which in turn kept me from having vision and passion. I didn’t view myself as a leader and didn’t readily step into leadership roles. Just a few short years ago I would not have remotely envisioned myself doing most of the things I participate in now: nonprofit support, storytelling, dance, soccer, social leadership, public speaking, advocacy, and even karaoke (which I did again last week and had a blast!)

My drive also results from the deep sense that I have missed out on half of my life. Because I didn’t know and embrace myself, I didn’t use my time and energy to have the impact I now want and believe I can have on the world. I don’t consider my life prior to coming out a waste. I did accomplish some good, and I gained a lot of experience and wisdom. It’s not all a loss. Yet I sometimes look at other people I know in my age range, people who have had a clearer vision and trajectory through their lives, and I envy them. I imagine what I could have accomplished had I owned my life sooner. But I cannot rewrite history. I can only write the story from this point forward, and I intend it to be quite different from the chapters before. Because being true to myself empowers me to live with vision, passion, and purpose.

This passion can at times leave me frustrated that I cannot accomplish more, more quickly. I want to pursue every opportunity that strengthens my ability to have the impact I want to see from my life. Which, of course, is unrealistic. As focused, intentional, and passionate as I am, I still only have 24 hours in my day and a certain amount of energy to expend. I also recognize the value of and try to practice healthy self-care. Sometimes my engagement leads me to neglect that, and I have to readjust and regain that margin in my life. Which brings me back to the sage advice of my friend: be patient. I still have a lot of life ahead of me.

I will still feel disappointment and frustration when opportunities I want to pursue don’t work out. But I will try to hold the long view, recognizing that there are all sorts of possibilities ahead, most of which I’m not even aware of at present. And in the meantime, I’ll continue to change the world through the channels available to me now, which are significant.

If the label fits...

In Love with rupi kaur

I have never particularly enjoyed poetry. I’ve always felt guilty about that, because I had this sense that I SHOULD like poetry. I had just never connected with any poet or collection of poems at a deep level. Until recently.

Last month the book group I attend at the local feminist bookstore chose to read the collection of poems by rupi kaur entitled milk and honey. In all honesty, I wasn’t initially excited about the selection, given my general disinterest in poetry. But I picked up the book while on vacation, boosted by the passionate recommendation of the bookseller at the small, independent bookshop. I owe her a sincere note of gratitude, because she connected me with the first set of poems that I truly love. I read through the entire collection over the days of my vacation, several times sitting in a relaxing teashop, another time sitting on a log alongside a trail in the quiet forest, or sitting on the front porch of the AirBnB I was staying at. I keep returning to numerous poems in the collection, their words echoing in my mind and heart. They speak to me of the pain of heartbreak and lost love, and the challenge of learning to love and value myself fully. They testify to the difficulties and the beauty of being a woman in this world. They witness the beauty and the brokenness that mark our lives.

I loved her first collection of poems so much that, as the woman who sold it to me suggested I would, I bought her second collection entitled the sun and her flowers. I haven’t had as much concentrated time to read this collection as quickly, but am finding more poems that speak to my soul. 

I can’t do justice to the extent this poet has touched my heart with her work. I want to quote all of her poems that resonate in my mind, but will choose just a few and encourage you to buy these books. I hope they will speak to you as much as they have to me. (All poems cited from milk and honey.)

i like the way the stretch marks

on my thighs look human and

that we’re so soft yet

rough and jungle wild

when we need to be

i love that about us

how capable we are of feeling

how unafraid we are of breaking

and tend to our wounds with grace

just being a woman

calling myself

a woman

makes me utterly whole

and complete

you

are your own

soul mate

to be

soft

is

to be

powerful

most importantly love

like it’s the only thing you know how

at the end of the day all this

means nothing

this page

where you’re sitting

your degree

your job

the money

nothing even matters

except love and human connection

who you loved

and how deeply you loved them

how you touched the people around you

and how much you gave them