What if Criticism Didn't Shake You?

Imagine this:

Your partner says you’ve let them down.
Your boss tells you she’s disappointed in your performance.
Your child calls you a bad parent.

Instead of feeling hurt, angry, or rushing to defend yourself…

You breathe.
You ground in your complete wholeness.
You listen with curiosity.

You ask calm questions.
You decide—internally—what to own and what is not yours.

For many of us, this response to feedback or criticism feels impossible. 

Not that long ago, I was like a dandelion puff—the slightest critique took me apart. 

I thought my defensiveness was about them (How DARE they, amiright?), but really, it was about me.

It was about my own low self worth and inability to feel hard feelings.

My shaky relationship to MYSELF made all feedback feel like an attack.

Because *I* was already so hard on myself, any perceived ‘attack’ felt like a potential annihilation of my very self.

Feedback felt like CONFIRMATION of the fears I already had about myself.

When we are not secure in our complete lovability and worth, we unintentionally give authority about WHO we are to other people. 

We let them be the judge, jury and executioner on our goodness, our capability, our lovability.

So, what can you do if you find yourself defensive and highly emotional when someone in your life gives your feedback?

You can completely change how you respond to feedback and criticism by transforming your relationship with YOURSELF.

Oh, it’s a win-win. 

Trust me.

When you know—deep in your bones—that you are WORTHY and WHOLE and LOVABLE (and that you always have been, always will be and *nothing* can ever change this fact), feedback loses its power over you. 

You stop spiraling into shame and blame. 

You become free.

Imagine what is possible for you then.

P.S. If you are looking for support in improving your relationship with yourself while also tackling courageous life and career goals, hop on a consult with me. I will walk you through a process to determine if I can help you with your goals as well as creating an unshakable relationship with yourself (which, I argue, is one of the most CRITICAL and WORTHY pursuits - upon which all else rests).

Were You Brave Last Year?

As we step fully into 2025, ask yourself: was I BRAVE last year?

Courage is about being willing to be seen as we are.

About putting ourselves out there even when we are terrified.

About stretching toward our potential and what we are here to offer to the world.

It could be getting on stage, asking someone out, publicly admitting a mistake.

It could also be having the courage to just get out of bed in the morning.

In line with answering my OWN call, I grew my bravery in 2024 (Courage to Answer officially pivoted away from organizational consulting as the primary focus in order to create more opportunities for 1:1 DEI, leadership and life coaching. I also stretched myself as a podcast guest and speaker!)

AND, I know I can be braver in 2025.

So, I’m growing my capacity for courage.

Are you?

I hope you take a moment RIGHT NOW to tune in to the whispers of your heart.

Get something to write with.

Tune in.

Write it all down.

Make space for what truly wants to come alive in you this year.

Plan your courage.

I’m here cheering you on.

Self-Compassion as A Tool for Justice

In our polarized country, I don’t often see the term ‘self-compassion’ shared as a key tool for advancing equity. Yet, self-compassion is critical for anyone with a privileged identity (white, male, heterosexual, cisgender, people without disabilities, Christian, US citizens, etc) who ASPIRES to be an ally for anyone with marginalized identities (BIPOC, female, queer, trans, disabled, etc).

Here’s why. Self-compassion:

Helps us own our biases. When we practice self-compassion, we are more likely to engage in honest self-reflection about our own biases and how they contribute to systemic inequalities.

Disrupts subconscious superiority. We can’t extend true compassion to others if we aren’t able to feel it toward ourselves. If you think you ARE able to feel compassion for others while being deeply mean to yourself, check in with yourself–you may actually be feeling pity for others, which is rooted in superiority.

Keeps us showing up. Ever heard of (or been) a deeply dedicated social justice advocate who’s completely burned out and now only wants to watch reality TV replays every day? Self-compassion increases our resiliency to sustain in this important work.

Reduces harm. Without self-compassion, we default to defensiveness, shame and blame (which often create harm for folx with marginalized identities). When we are kind to ourselves despite our mistakes, we are more willing to take accountability and learn from them. Over time, this leads to causing less harm to people with marginalized identities.

Impacts those around us. Betterup’s research shows that, in addition to a slew of benefits for the individual practicing self-compassion (less stress, lower burnout, more resilience), LEADERS who practice it increase belonging on their teams by 150%, increase team performance by 50% and reduce turnover!

If you believe in justice and equity and hold at least ONE privileged identity, make practicing self-compassion a priority. If you need help figuring out how to start, hop on a 15-min call with me to assess your current level of self-compassion and a next step to deepen your self-compassion.

White Folks: If You Do This, I Can Help

Hi my friends and fellow white folk! 

Check out this list of common things white people say and do that undermine racial equity. Please comment below with your thoughts / to add more! 

These go in order of more obvious to more insidious: 

• “I don’t see color. I’m part of the HUMAN race. I’m not white, I’m Italian.” [Colorblindness]

• “I’m not racist, I have _____ (Black friends, Latina partner, biracial children, etc)” [Innocent by Association]

• “After my sweat lodge experience/having a dream where I was an African king, I really understand what it’s like to be Indigenous/Black” [Just no.] 

• “That’s ridiculous! That has nothing to do with race.” [Defensiveness]

• When a BIPOC confides in you about a microaggression: “I think you’re overreacting. They didn’t mean it that way.” [Gaslighting]

• “As a queer white woman, I understand what it’s like to be racially oppressed.” [Centering Whiteness; Erasure]

• Bursting into tears when someone names your bias [White Fragility]

• “My parent/uncle/colleague REALLY needs to hear this.” [Deflection]

• “I don’t know enough to speak on that (any racial topic).” [Avoidance; perpetuates the false idea that race is only something that BIPOC have and that whiteness is default].

• “I am an ally/accomplice to BIPOC” [Desire to be Seen as a ‘Good’ White Person]. Allyship is ongoing, humble and a verb. It’s not a title, nor self-proclaimed.

• A foundation/board/nonprofit/school district/company composed of white leaders making decisions for communities of Color [White Saviorism] 

• You’re in a team meeting and someone has shared their emotional response to a racist incident: “Well, Black boys make up 8% of K-12 students in the US population, but 18% of those who are expelled.” [Intellectualizing]. Please hear me: data and stats on racism are incredibly important to know and share. However, it’s very common for white people to default to intellectual conversations about racism instead of engaging with the emotions of ourselves or others. Becoming racially resilient white people requires that we engage emotionally, not only intellectually.

• “We just can’t find any qualified candidates of Color for this role.” [Insidious Racism, Patently Untrue]

• “I’m going to side with Zoe [WOC] on this (when I actually disagree)” [White Guilt]. This one is tricky. White guilt can manifest as constantly deferring to People of Color. When white people don’t criticize, disagree, challenge or question BIPOC colleagues the way we would other white colleagues, that’s also racism. We can’t have genuine relationships when we defer due to white guilt.

• “I’m trying to be more racially aware. Can you tell me if I say or do something biased (to BIPOC)?” [Teach Me]. There’s a long history of white people expecting/demanding BIPOC to teach us about our own racism (and even whiteness). My personal belief is that each person gets to decide their own capacity and desire to help others learn and grow. This could range from zero capacity or desire to educate people about their privilege to dedicating entire lives and careers to this aim. HOWEVER, be very mindful as a white person WHO you are asking to help you grow. There must be true consent, here. Have you worked with/learned from other white people to learn as much as you can?

Please know, I’ve done most (if not all) of these things, so there is no judgment here. I find that it’s common for white people to become confused, scared and anxious as we learn more about our own whiteness and racism and attempt to act differently. Sometimes we feel trapped in seemingly contradictory advice. However, it’s CRITICAL that we develop tolerance to our emotional discomfort and continue to learn, engage and grow (to develop what I call white racial resilience). 

If you’re a white leader at any level who cares about racial equity, but you find yourself doing any of the above, I can help you. My approach is anchored in self-compassion and non-judgment, because that’s how we can actually CHANGE deeply rooted beliefs and patterns that we’ve inherited and learned as white people. 

What (True) Power Is and Why You Need It.

First, let’s talk about how we are defining power and why it’s a critical ingredient for a fulfilled life. 

Many people (especially those socialized as women or marginalized in society) may resist the idea of embracing power, because it’s traditionally been defined by those who’ve amassed and wielded it (who have historically been white men) as power and control OVER others. 

This kind of power has been used AGAINST many of us (any of us who are marginalized for our identities) for hundreds of years. I define this version of power (‘power OVER’) as abusive power. 

This distorted view of power has caused many of us to resist the idea of claiming our own power. 

Here’s a different definition to try on. I’m defining power as the ability to create what you want in your life. 

Imagine feeling powerful (e.g. fully capable) to create anything you want in your life: a healthy and loving partnership, a fulfilling career, a successful startup, a lasting legacy, generational wealth that not only changes your life but the lives of your kids, a peaceful home, a happy relationship with family members, an excitement to get out of bed in the morning and a sense of satisfaction when you lay your head down at night.

I’m a heck YES. 

And here’s the great news: Humans innately have power. We’re born with it. Anyone who’s interacted with a two-year-old can see this natural human orientation.

We simply become disconnected from it over time through socialization, life experiences and what we learn to BELIEVE we’re capable of (which is almost always WAY less than our actual potential).

Here are some clues that you’re disconnected from your power: You’re people-pleasing in at least one area of life. You experience imposter syndrome at work. You take steps to change your life and then experience overwhelming self-doubt and stop. Your mind overanalyzes every decision and interaction.

The biggest sign? Someone asks you what you want and you hear crickets in your brain. 

There are many ways to reclaim your power. Coaching is one of the most effective ways that I’ve found.

If you want to reclaim your power, come work with me! I’m currently accepting 1:1 coaching clients for 3-12 months who want to reconnect to what matters most to them, change what they believe is possible and powerfully create a life of their design.

White People: Shame is in Your Way

I remember the first time I turned toward myself for reassurance that I was still ‘good’ after a racially charged interaction. 

Our facilitation team (myself and two colleagues of color) were facilitating content on microaggressions for a high-profile client. We decided on the spot that the participants would benefit from a demonstration and so we quickly chose some ‘roles’ to act out. Mine was essentially ‘average white person unintentionally being racist’ and so I said something racially biased (as planned) so that our third facilitator could demonstrate how to interrupt.

As we role-played in front of our large audience, I saw in my co-facilitator’s eyes that what I’d said was impacting him. Everything in me screamed for reassurance from him that he still liked me, I was still ‘a good white person.’

Ironically, even though I was leading DEI work and facilitating across the country, I didn’t see my desire for affirmations of my ‘goodness’ from BIPOC colleagues as the emotional labor that it was. 

In front of 60 people, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I thought I saw hurt in his eyes, I turned toward him looking for reassurance, feeling very raw and vulnerable, and in that moment, I thought: This isn’t his job. I can do this for myself. I think I even said it out loud. And I stopped myself. I just let it be. I sat with the discomfort of the experience. I felt a flood of negative feelings and I reminded myself that I’m good.

I now see that my racial shame was masquerading as a frequent need for reassurance.

Shame, I believe, directly fuels white fragility (a term coined by Robin DiAngelo, defined as: Discomfort and defensiveness on the part of a white person when confronted by information about racial inequality and injustice). 

I believe that a necessary part of unlearning racism for white people is to uncover racially biased thoughts and then change them. 

Seems simple enough, right?

Not quite. For many of us, choosing to see our racially biased thoughts triggers such painful/dissonant feelings that we halt the process altogether. 

Nothing could be less productive, in my humble opinion. This is why any sort of intentionally shaming approach intended to educate white folx (who genuinely want racial equity) is counter-productive. 

Brené Brown talks about shame as ‘basically the fear of being unlovable.’ 

The (tremendously worthwhile) challenge for us white folx then becomes: Choosing to SEE our (absorbed, inherited, undesired) racism AND still choosing to love OURSELVES so we can stay in the conversation and become the people we want to be. 

Only then can we change our thoughts, beliefs and actions to align with our values of racial justice.

Then, we can grow into racially RESILIENT white people. We can be white people who openly embrace racial conversations. White people who recover quickly from the inherent complexities and emotions that arise from collectively working to dismantle a dehumanizing system. 

White people who can identify our roles both in injustices and in collective liberation.

Worthiness, Defensiveness and White Fragility.

Imagine: Your partner tells you how you’ve let them down. Your boss shares a list of things they want you to do differently. Your child claims you’re a bad parent. A colleague mentions how you always start crying when your team tries to discuss race.

And instead of feeling hurt or angry and leaping to defend yourself, you feel grounded and calm. You take a breath and listen. Really listen.

You ask some questions. Your heart rate stays low. Your palms stay dry. You calmly think about what you want to ‘own’ and also what’s not yours to take on. You decide what you want to learn from the feedback.

Imagine thinking to yourself: Hmm. They’re right. I did do that and I shouldn’t have. I’m glad they told me so I can learn. I did something that I’m not proud of AND I know that I am a caring, kind and amazing person. I’ll commit to stopping because I love myself too much to keep acting that way. 

Your belief in your wholeness doesn’t waver.

You don’t descend into guilt, shame, blame, thought drama, histrionics. 

You decide from a calm and whole place what you want to gain from the feedback and how you want to move forward.

What I’ve described above is SO different from what many of us currently notice in our minds when we’re given feedback: 

• Shame can sound like: I can’t believe I did that! What’s wrong with me?! Someone else would have handled this so much better. I can’t get ANYTHING right. Why am I even trying? I’m an awful boss/employee/parent/partner. 

• Blame can sound like: How dare they bring this up? What a hypocrite! They’re not perfect. Don’t they see that they’ve done XYZ for years? If they actually SUPPORTED me then maybe I could accomplish task/parent better/be kinder/etc. 

Here’s the thing: there’s a connection between self-worth and defensiveness. I didn’t see it until I transformed my self-compassion and self-worth.

The more someone embraces their inherent worth and is kind with themselves, the lower their defensiveness. 

Those who do not feel ‘good enough’ or who are very self-critical are more likely to be defensive simply because criticism reminds us of all the ways we’re already hard on/don’t accept ourselves. 

(I see you, my people-pleasers and perfectionists. . . we know this experience well).

When we aren’t secure in ourselves, we unintentionally give authority about WHO we are to other people: our partners, our bosses, even strangers who cut us in line. Therefore, the slightest critique or comment can feel like an attack on our very sense of self. We spiral into shame.

When we aren’t loving to ourselves, we leap to BLAME others as a way of deflecting the pain or discomfort of the feedback. We haven’t learned how to love ourselves through mistakes.

However, when we develop an unshakeable belief in our worthiness and we accept that mistakes are human and can never change WHO we are, THEN we can love the heck out of ourselves and welcome feedback in a healthy way.

Developing these beliefs is also a critical part of becoming more racially resilient as a white person. White people who develop full belief in our worth can actually welcome feedback about our whiteness because it doesn’t challenge our sense of self.

If you find yourself in shame, blame or defensiveness, there’s good news: you can completely change how you respond to feedback and criticism. More importantly, you can completely transform your relationship with yourself. 

The first step is to become aware of how you speak to yourself (your thoughts) so you can change them into thoughts that support your growth. Then, you access your wholeness (embodiment in coaching sessions can help with this, as well as drawing on something larger than yourself–whatever that may be for you). Then, you practice. 

Before you know it, you’ve opened up incredible emotional freedom in your life and a sense that you are, unshakably, worthy and whole. 

IMAGINE what would be possible for you then. Be well, my loves.

Love Over Lack: A Powerful Shift in Motivation

Have you ever experienced a moment of clarity that completely revolutionized your approach to behavior change? I recently had such an epiphany. I discovered that when my motivation for change is rooted in a deep and genuine love for myself, I not only take action but also follow through and sustain the change. Conversely, when I attempt to make changes from a place of scarcity, lack, or self-criticism, it's like shooting myself in both feet.

I suspect many of you can relate to this struggle. Think about the times when you decided to make a significant change in your life, only to have it fizzle out and fade away. Now, consider those times when you managed to create meaningful, lasting change. I'd be willing to bet that those lasting changes were driven by a compelling motivator – a motivator born out of love.

Before I delve into my epiphany, let me provide some context. I've been on a journey to shift from a scarcity mindset to an abundance mindset. I realized that my scarcity/lack mindset has affected almost every area of my life; relationships, career, finance, and most importantly, my relationship with myself. Over the past year especially, I have actively worked to shift my motivators.

Here are two recent examples of how I managed to shift from a mindset of lack and scarcity to one of abundance and love. These shifts in motivation have been instrumental in supporting the lasting changes I wanted to make.

Example 1: Exercising Consistently and Not Hating It

‘Lack’ Motivator: Changing my appearance. For years, my motivation for exercise was solely about changing how my body looked. I wanted to alter this or shrink that. This motivation was rooted in dissatisfaction with my appearance, and as you might guess, it yielded minimal results and maximum dissatisfaction. I'd work out diligently, return home, see no change, and feel constant frustration. I was self-conscious, self-critical, and found no joy in exercising.

‘Love’ Motivator: Feeling strong and staying mobile. Over the past two years, I redirected my motivation from my appearance (e.g., dissatisfaction with my looks) to strength and functional movement (e.g., how I feel and my love for my current and future selves). Now, I work out to feel strong, capable, and vibrant. I envision a future where I can keep up with my grandchildren. This shift in perspective keeps me consistent in my workouts, and I celebrate my strength. Frustration and self-consciousness are now rare visitors in the gym.

Example 2: Being in a Healthy and Loving Relationship

‘Lack’ Motivator: This relationship might be the best there is for me. Before I found my current partner, I had been in a series of unhealthy relationships stretching back about twenty years. Part of the reason I stayed, even when being treated poorly, was the fear that perhaps I was somehow broken or unlovable. I convinced myself that these toxic relationships were all I deserved. Despite being anxious, insecure, fearful, and resentful, I was afraid to initiate a break-up for fear that I would discover that there really wasn’t anything better in store for me. These deep-seated beliefs kept me trapped in unhealthy relationships for years.

‘Love’ Motivator: There is more for me than this. I chose to trust that–even if it meant finding love late in life or being single for a long time–I would find a loving partner. Choosing to trust that a healthier and more loving partnership was possible allowed me to break free from the destructive cycles that had haunted me for two decades. I healed, learned to love myself, and eventually recognized and chose a healthy and loving relationship at the age of 36. Even more empowering, if my current relationship were ever to end, I wouldn't doubt my worth or lovability.

Let’s apply this concept to your life:

• In which areas of your life are you currently operating from a place of lack or scarcity when you could be coming from a place of abundance and self-love?

• What would change for you if you shifted your motivation? 

• What could become possible in your life?

The transformative power of love as a motivator cannot be understated. It's a journey that's truly worth embarking on, and I firmly believe that you can make all the changes you desire in your life when you choose love as your motivating force.

I’m Good. And Also Racially Biased.

“It was the longest run of my life.”

A young white woman told me about a DEI training she went to. The facilitator said, by virtue of living in racist world, all white people are racially biased.

After the training the young woman ran for miles.

I did something similar when I started coming to terms with my own racial bias. I sat in the forest painting a girl with a wide-open screaming mouth and a gaping hole inside of her. Blood on her hands. I remember feeling empty, powerless, distraught.

I had thought just being a well-intentioned, progressive white woman was enough to enact change. I didn’t know what to do or how to act. My entire self-image was shaken.

Once we pull back the curtain on the reality of white supremacy and are introduced to the idea that we are not separate from it, we predictable do one of two things (see also RobinDiAngelo’s work on “the good/bad binary,” where my initial learning on these concepts originated):

1: Believe we are separate from the system of racism and therefore cannot be racist.

This results in not exploring our racism or trying to change it. We are highly adept at pointing out racist systems or blatantly racist acts, but we believe they have nothing to do with us. We become entrenched and defensive. We aren’t authentic or productive in cross-racial spaces.

2: Acknowledge we are racially biased and spiral into shame as we desperately try to prove to ourselves and others that we are still “good.”

This often looks like a lot of emotion, fragility and tears, performative words/actions, policing other white people to show that we are “one of the good ones,” a lot of urgency to “fix” racism (e.g. white arrogance), desiring a lot of validation from People of Color, etc. We aren’t authentic in this option either, because we are motivated (consciously or not) from a desire for POC to deem us “worthy” so we can feel good about ourselves. We may also not yet realize that dismantling White Supremacy also benefits us.

I was in #2 for many years.

3. Here’s a third option: We white women can be BOTH good people AND have deeply embedded racism.

(If you’re a white woman and you read that sentence and felt an emotional response in your body, that’s your sign that you don’t yet believe both can be true at once).

Once we understand that both can be true at once, we can get out of shame and start our own work.

I help white people get to the third option much more quickly than I did.

We:
- develop resilience to guilt and shame
- give ourselves the validation and love that we are desperately seeking
- hold ourselves accountable from a place of love
- build an authentic and productive white racial identity that is aligned to our values of racial justice and DEI.

We can be part of the solution, but it starts from the inside. Don’t stay in option two. I can promise that you’ll be much more productive in your equity efforts (AND feel much better) when you embrace the third option.

Commitment, Courage, Capability, Confidence

Dan Sullivan has a profound framework that he calls ‘The 4 C’s’ that can be applied to any progress you make in your life. These are: Commitment, Courage, Capability, Confidence. His premise is simple: Most people want to feel capable and confident in order to go after what they want in life. However, there’s no getting to these without going through the very uncomfortable realm of courage.

I went through this exact process recently.

I froze my eggs. This process involves chemically controlling your hormones to make your ovaries grow as many mature eggs as possible so they can be retrieved via a needle through your vaginal wall and frozen for later use. This process involved all kinds of things I don’t like: shots, blood draws, going under anesthesia, taking lots of prescriptions. I’m in awe of folks who self-inject daily for their health needs and women who’ve done IVF.

Here’s my experience mapped onto the 4 C’s:

Commitment: After going back and forth for years about if I wanted to freeze my eggs, I finally asked myself the right question: What’s the worst case scenario? Wasted money. What’s the best case scenario? The potential to have a healthy child later on and giving my current relationship more time to flourish.

My WHY just had to be bigger than my why not.

Courage: The EXTRA SUPER HARD PART. As a lifelong ‘delicate flower’ with shots and blood draws, I was dubious (at best) about my ability to inject myself with 2-3 shots per day for 10-12 days.

In the beginning, I struggled. The medication stung and drew blood. I had to lay down to keep from getting woozy. I avoided looking at the needle.

And then, it suddenly became less daunting (oh heeeeey Capability!) . . . and then they added a second injection to my mornings (wait, what?) I went right back to Courage.

Capability: By the 8th day, I had learned that icing my stomach was the trick. I started to even enjoy mixing the meds. I even grabbed my injection pack one day when I was late to an appointment (speed waddling to the car with an ice pack stuck down my stretch pants) so that I could inject myself on time. I mixed the meds while driving on the highway. Not recommending this, but you get my point.

Confidence: On day 12 they told me I’d need to continue injections for five additional days. I shocked myself by not feeling too distressed by this news and watching myself put in and pull out the needle during the injections! The remaining five days of shots were no big deal. I didn’t feel woozy or dread them. I just did them.

When I’m trying something new and I’m deeply uncomfortable I just tell myself, “I’m in courage.” I named my coaching business Courage to Answer because progress and growth are a constant choice: the choice to stay in the discomfort of courage because that is simply the process of progress.

My guess is you could map the four C’s onto breakthroughs and achievements in your life. What stage are you in today?

We Can Do Hard Things

I'm in the process of training my brain to believe that I can do hard things.

I’m doing this in my business when I learn a new skill and would MUCH rather walk away to do anything else (I see you, website design!), when I do a DIY house project (epoxy the basement floor), or choose to sit with a challenging emotion (fear, sadness).

It’s like a confidence boot camp for my brain.

My friend and colleague Alison Brock McGill was the first person who introduced this simple and profound statement to me: ‘Beautiful girl, you can do hard things.’

I had not realized it, but I had started to avoid hard things; to give up on what I wanted when the going got tough.

Doing hard things is how we get stronger. If I avoid hard things, I never give myself the chance to get stronger.

I have coaching to thank for these new shifts in my mindset and behavior: becoming aware of how my thoughts create my emotions and drive my behaviors.

To practice, I started in one area of my life: weight training. I used to absolutely dread hard workouts. I hated the extra time that it took away from other things that I wanted to be doing. I didn’t know what I was doing most of the time. I felt embarrassed and awkward. It was also just really hard. I’d have all sorts of thoughts leading up to a workout (“I don’t want to go. I’m too tired. I don’t feel like it. I need to do xyz instead.”)

Once (and, let’s be real – IF) I got myself to the gym, then my mind would think: “Oh my god. What time does this end? I hate this. I want to leave.”

Not only was it challenging on its own, but my mind was making the whole experience WAY worse.

But I kept at it. Slowly, I got stronger.

Now, I have eliminated most of my thought drama around working out. I just go. I even enjoy it sometimes (who IS this new person?)

For example, I’ll be holding a plank and, instead of hating the instructor, I’ll think to myself: “This is me doing something hard. This is the process of me getting stronger. I can do hard things.”

Where in your life have you noticed your mind wanting to talk you out doing something hard? What’s worked for you, to keep you at it?

Remembering Worth

I didn’t remember my worthiness until I was 36. I say ‘remember’ intentionally. I didn’t develop it. Or grow it. Or accomplish it like a goal.

I had just forgotten. I forgot when magazines, TV and social media told me I was not quite enough (good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, sexy enough, successful enough, loved enough . . . ). I forgot when authority figures criticized me. I forgot when love was given conditionally.

I learned to believe that I had to earn my self-worth through striving, doing, pleasing, accomplishing, always saying yes, not listening to my own needs. Without even realizing it, I made all of these messages and experiences mean that I didn’t deserve kindness, love, respect and big dreams.

I didn’t realize that I was living from low self-worth, however. I realize it now: I got into (and stayed in) unhealthy relationships. I people-pleased all the time because I believed that that was the only way I could be loved. I believed my value as a human was directly related to how happy people were with me.

Worthiness is–and has always been–inherent. I know that now. I was born worthy, just as every human is. No baby questions their worth. No infant questions if they are ‘good enough.’

We are just taught to forget what we’ve always been: enough.

It’s still a journey for me (I’m learning that remembering my worth is a practice, as most things in life are).

However, the emotional freedom that I experience when I practice worthiness is profound. I listen to my own needs, I take care of myself, I focus on myself rather than comparing myself to others or trying to change people around me. I set kind boundaries and stick to them. I take risks in my life and business because I know that no failure can change the fact that I’m always enough.

My vision is for every woman to know how worthy, badass and extraordinary she is.

It’s Hard to See Your Own Bias

I did not know that I was white until I was twenty. I believed the way to be a ‘good’ white person was to be ‘colorblind.’ I had no tools for engaging in conversations about race, let alone for examining my own racial privilege. I had low tolerance for the emotions that arose in conversations about race. My deep, embedded biases toward people of color remained completely unexamined. My biases may have eluded me indefinitely, given the ongoing racial segregation in the United States, and my belief in two strong myths: the origin myth of how the U.S. came to be, and the myth of meritocracy.

Conversely, I learned that I was female when I was just a few years old. At age five, my aunt told me to close my legs because ‘ladies do not sit like that.’ At ten, a stranger yelled that he would like to ‘bend me over a table.’ At sixteen, a family member told me that the female protagonist ‘wanted it’ after a rape scene in a movie. Unwittingly, I developed a bias against women—even as a member of this group—which I confirmed upon taking a Harvard Implicit Bias Test. The test reported that I have a moderate automatic association of male with career and female with family. Despite my conscious push for gender equity, I still subconsciously believe that women belong in the kitchen.

I now realize that my delayed recognition of my race has a name: privilege. White privilege, to be exact. Privilege leads to awareness gaps. The more privilege I have as a white, cisgender, non-disabled, young, English-speaker born in the U.S., the more invisible my own implicit biases are to me.

Implicit bias is an insidious and effective barrier to racial and gender equity (all equity, really). Implicit bias is universal, deeply ingrained and is sometimes even about your own marginalized identities. Implicit bias is the result of years of prejudiced conditioning and socialization that starts before we even learn to talk. It means that what we think we believe is often at odds with what we actually believe. Our biased thoughts lie just below our conscious awareness. I am talking about the of vast majority of men who believe they are not sexist and the vast majority of white people who believe we are not racist. I am talking about me. I am also talking about you.

The costs of implicit bias are high. The disproportionate policing, use of brutal force, and incarceration of people of color screams institutional racism. Women and people of color in pain are provided less care than men and white people. Inequities in our education system continue to ensure that opportunity and access are not truly available to all. Male professors are rated more highly than female professors teaching the same course. People of color who ‘whiten’ their resumes receive more interviews. People of color and women are significantly underrepresented in leadership positions. Racial and gender bias impact every aspect of work.

Are we destined to be victims of our implicit biases? Absolutely not. Our brain’s neuroplasticity provides a promising solution: we learned our biases, and we can un-learn them. We can rewire our brains to stop buying into the lies that have been told about those different from us.

So, what can you do personally and professionally?

First, recognize that bias is universal (so don’t feel bad about it; feel responsible). We all have work to do, and your work will appear different depending on your intersecting identities.

Second, accept that this is ongoing work. People who think they have ‘arrived’ are more likely to cause harm without knowing it.

Professionally, recognize that the more positional power you hold in your organization, the more responsibility you have to elevate and support diversity, equity and inclusion work. This starts with self-work. Are you aware of your own biases? Do you know how they play out in your decision-making? Who you hire? Who you promote? Who stays in your company? Where you direct resources? With power comes responsibility. As a CEO or senior leader, your company can benefit substantially from your leadership here. You are uniquely positioned to be the biggest champion for a truly diverse and inclusive workplace, or its largest barrier.

Now I am going to talk specifically to white people:

Talk to your kids about white privilege, race and racism. Equip them with tools to understand their own racial privilege. Do not let them get to age twenty without a real understanding of the history of this country and productive tools to talk about racism and other systems of oppression.

Break the good/bad binary: if you think of ‘good’ people as unbiased, and ‘bad’ people as biased, it is time to break that association. It will keep you from looking under your own hood (who wants to think of themselves as ‘bad?’).

Love yourself. As much as possible. A lot of shame can crop up (I have had many fragile white moments). The shame can feel immobilizing. Shame blocks productive action. Feel all of your feelings (but avoid seeking ‘absolution’ from friends, family or colleagues of color). Instead, work through the feelings with other white people who are trying to unlearn racism. Learn more about the arc of positive white identity development and recognize your small wins along the way.

I wish I could say that I have succeeded in ‘cleaning house’ of my racial biases. I have not. However, I recognize many of my biases now. Now that they are conscious, I can work on them.

Getting real with yourself about your bias may feel exceptionally vulnerable—even painful. But it is worth it. Just as there is high societal cost to bias, there is also an individual cost to believing the lie of superiority that some of us have been told. We lose some of our humanity.

What would it look like for a critical mass of people to become aware of their biases and actively addressing them? Living in true celebration of difference? Sign me up.

*This piece was originally published on Forbeswomen