No more tiaras

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I am the proud godmother to three amazing little girls. It is an honor to be chosen for this special role. In addition to serving as a role model of faithfulness (eek!?) I also believe that one of my duties as godmother is to role model feminist, inclusive leadership and work-life negotiation strategies. I haven’t yet told the parents of these girls that this is how I see myself as godmother. Hopefully they are okay with this since they chose me! Two of them are my siblings, so I think I am okay.

Two of my three goddaughters recently had birthdays and I refused to buy them tiaras. I bought tutus, wands, journals and feather pens, and pretend play shoes and jewelry. But, I drew the line at a tiara. When we were in Toys R Us, my sons kept pointing them out and asked why we couldn’t get them. I fumbled over the answer and tried to explain in terms they would understand what a tiara represents. I did not do so well on the spot. After some reflective time, my answer is this: Tiaras imply weakness. Tiaras imply something that is given to a young girl for superficial reasons- looks, personality, bikinis. Tiaras are usually given to girls by a “higher” power, usually a man, because said higher power has deemed the recipient worthy.

Here’s the thing. We are already worthy. We are already enough. My goddaughters don’t need anyone to give them a tiara. If they want one, they can go out and earn it (or a promotion, or a raise, or whatever a tiara means to them). Which, given what I have witnessed from them already and their amazing parents, I have no doubt they will! Go get it ladies! (Note to parents and others with special little women in their lives. I am not anti-tiara. I am anti what tiaras represent. If your little girl loves dress up and pretend play and tiaras, then carry on!)

Professional tiaras

I recently had my own tiara-resistance moment. I have applied for a job. It is within my current setting, but with a completely different focus- alumni development. On paper, it is a dream position- develop relationships, network with, and create programs for young alumni. Swoon! I knew that the position was going to post and I thought about just submitting my materials and then waiting. Like I have done with every other job search in my life. In the past, I have absolutely been guilty of the Tiara Syndrome. Carol Frohlinger of Negotiating Women, Inc. says that TS involves keeping your head down, doing good work, and waiting for people to notice and reward you.

Instead of waiting to be noticed, I emailed the person who would be my supervisor if I got offered the position and I asked him to coffee. I was bold. I was direct. I did not wait, I advocated for myself. I said, “I would like to learn more about your office and what you do. Can I take you to coffee?” I have never done this before in my entire life. I was absolutely terrified. Was I too bold? Was I pushy? Would it be awkward if he said no?

He said yes. We went to coffee and I learned a TON about the office, his style, the position, and what he is looking for. I told him that I would be applying and then indicated why I would be a strong candidate. Again, I have never done this before in my life. Guess what? It didn’t hurt. It was actually really fun. It was useful, helpful, and informative. Even if I don’t get offered an interview, it was a good use of my time, personally and professionally. Even if I don’t get the job, I know more about Alumni Relations and what the “work” is. This information will only help me.

This morning, this article came across my Twitter feed: “Don’t ever apologize for being a good parent and other lessons for hard-working women.”

I am in love with this post by Stacy Janicki. It says, for me, so many things that I am trying to practice in my own life and work. It says so well the career counseling and leadership advice I am trying to share with my students. She talks about the tiara syndrome and how to combat it. She encourages women to learn self-promotion skills and to ask for what they want.

Yes!

No more tiaras!

No more tiaras!

Have you had a tiara-resistance moment?

Self-advocacy

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I have been a certified administrator of the Myers Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) since 2004. In my professional positions at three different institutions, I have presented multiple “Type” workshops to students, faculty, and staff. I have made the mistake of doing these sessions out of the goodness of my heart and my desire to be a helpful, collaborative professional.

This summer, my colleague asked if I would facilitate the MBTI for incoming doctoral students. As part of her ask, she asked me what my fee was. I said something like, “oh no, that’s okay. You don’t have to pay me.” To which she said, “No, this is an expertise that you have and you should be paid for it.” I was totally blown away. Gosh darn it! She’s right! I do have this expertise, a lot of practical experience, and a terminal degree which lends credibility to my role as expert. We plowed ahead with the proposal to pay me for my time. Both departments running the Orientation agreed to split the fee and my supervisor gave the go-ahead. Yeah! I was going to get paid for my expertise. For the first time.

I prepped. I prepped at home. I revised slides. I practiced. Then, I did it. And it was great. I love the MBTI. I love helping people find their best fit type and then help them use what they learned to be better communicators, team players, and students.

And then, they didn’t pay me. As the request made it up the channels of paperwork, word came back down to me that they were not going to compensate me. Me doing all that prep work and those two sessions (one of which was on my day off) were part of the “Monica” package that I brought to the table.

I was crushed. I am sure I pouted. As a new professional and even just a few years ago, I think I would have pouted for a long time and then thrown up my hands and moved along. I would have accepted that this is just how it goes. This time though, something was different. There were voices telling me to keep pushing, to stand up for myself, to ask. The literature (and my own experience and my observations of others) are constantly revealing that women don’t ask, they don’t negotiate, they wait to be recognized.

For one of the first times I can remember in my professional life, I said, “No. No, this is not okay.” I advocated for myself, my time, my experience, and my expertise. I had provided something and I should be compensated for that. I put together a proposal requesting that I be paid for my time. And, it worked. I advocated for myself and it worked!

This experience marks a turning point of sorts for me. I learned some very important professional and personal lessons:

  1. I have to ask. I have to ask for what I need and deserve and be firm in getting it.
  2. I learned that self advocacy is a skill that takes confidence and practice.
  3. I am grateful for my colleague who suggested that I be paid in the first place.
  4. I am grateful for my supervisor who was willing to take a creative but fair proposal back to the powers that be and advocate for me.
  5. It helps to have allies.
  6. There are women out there who will support and cheer for other women. I am grateful for those women. I hope to continue to be one of those women for others.
  7. As a Mid-Career professional one of my professional responsibilities is to help younger professionals, especially women, learn how to advocate for themselves.
  8. Get compensation agreements in writing.
  9. Get a deposit up-front.
  10. No more free MBTI sessions.

Are you advocating for yourself and being compensated (however you define it) for the unique gifts and skills you bring to the table? Psst…You are worth every penny!

Snapshots

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One of the things that I continue to learn about myself as a mother, wife, woman, working mother, and human is that I often have completely unrealistic expectations of…life. Mostly myself. But sometimes these expectations spill over into other things. The challenge is how to deal with unfulfilled expectations. I am constantly checking myself. “Was this expectation fair, realistic, really that important?”

After weeks of waiting, the boys’ school pictures finally came home. Both of the boys chose to wear ties this year. I could not wait to get my hands on those photos! I was working late that night and my husband called to tell me that they arrived. Points to the hubs for the heads-up. He knows that I have these expectations and he wanted to let me know what I was walking into. He said that the photos were “okay.” L’s was decent and C’s was not his best moment, but you could tell he was trying hard to not blink. Then, he sent me a picture of their pictures. I held my breath and opened it.

On first glance, I thought..who are those kids? How did they get so big? Immediately after that I thought, well, L’s is okay enough to send out to family, but we’ll have to have C’s redone. Expectations are tricky things. When I came home, the boys greeted me at the door, school photos in hand, beaming with pride. “Look, Mommy! Our pictures are here!” They don’t care that in both of their photos, their ties are askew and their hair needed re-combing. They don’t care that the blue background matches their dress shirts too closely and washes them out just a little bit (who picks those backgrounds, anyway?).

My boys teach me that I need to not care about those things either. Instead, I agreed that they were great and of course we can start cutting them out and mailing them to Grandma Jersey, and Grandpop, and Aunta Liz and Uncle Andy, and GG Rose and Grandma Tootie. When I really looked at those photos with my heart and not my eyes, I saw their beautiful eyes, their gorgeously long eyelashes. That they both have new freckles. C is looking more and more like my husband but with my coloring. L looks exactly like my Dad and has the same crooked smile that’s he had since birth. They are growing and changing before my eyes. They are doing everything that they are supposed to do.

As a parent, I am slowly learning to get out of my own way and to not let my expectations spill over into every day life. The magic of parenting happens when I let moments unfold and I hold back just a little bit so my children can grow into themselves and not my expectations of the perfect school photo.