Becoming Gutsy and Formidable: One Life, Out Loud

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Belonging

‘I dreamed about a culture of belonging. I still dream that dream. I contemplate what our lives would be like if we knew how to cultivate awareness, to live mindfully, peacefully; if we learned habits of being that would bring us closer together, that would help us build beloved community.’

—bell hooks, Belonging: A Culture of Place

Roots

I was raised to treat people with respect, kindness and generosity. I learned that these weren’t always values taught or followed by others. To not stare or hurt people. I was raised to form my own opinions and beliefs, not just the ones taught to me. I was taught to question, debate and take a stand when it mattered. I was raised by loving and affectionate parents who worked hard.

My dad was the first person to teach me that I was equal and not less than or less worthy than someone white. I came home from primary school one day, I can’t recall how old I was at the time, and I was upset and asked him if I was half-caste, because it seemed like a bad thing if someone was willing to call me it. I remember him comforting me, aghast and in defence against what had been said to me, and said, ‘Don’t you ever say that or feel that way.’

There have been many times since then as I got older when I have forgotten to seek his wise counsel. In recent years, when I remembered that he was always in my corner, I’ve sought him out and we’ve talked about lots of different things, from storytelling to mental health. The way my dad has stood up for me while growing up and now as an adult, I can clearly see where my sense of loyalty comes from.

During my teen years and young adulthood, my dad and I had many heated arguments. We would often not speak to each other until the next day, that’s how long we needed to cool down our respective fiery tempers. With each argument, I learned it is important to stand for something. To have an opinion even if someone disagrees. My dad never told me to think his way or try to convince me. Though I tried the latter with him a few times in those teenage years! In our minds, we were both right and sometimes we’d take on another viewpoint we hadn’t considered. I had the freedom to think and while the air was thick after one of our debates, I learned to never back down if I believed strongly in something. Through this, I can see how I learned how to feel in my gut and slowly I developed the instinct to trust it. There never was a ‘Dad knows better’ scenario. When we talked in this way, we were equals, individual people with a point of view. I’ve had similar arguments and debates with other people and the glaring difference is that they would always tell me I was wrong, call me names, read into what I was saying as though they knew my mind better than I did, insult me, tell me how I should feel (even if they knew far less about the topic or had no experience), shut me down, try to get me to agree with them—which was never going to happen—or walk away when I wouldn’t.

My dad taught me respect and conviction in our dialogues together. I enjoy heated debates, however, I am still learning and seeking people who can take the heat and stay in the room.

Trinities

I notice things that come in threes. My first trinity: Ma, Dad and me. My second: Depeche Mode, Nine Inch Nails and The Cure. My third: my husband, Ryan, my daughter, Sahra and me.

It may be seen to be blasphemous to use the Holy Trinity as my template phrasing, but here we are.

My parents provided me with a solid foundation in life, one grounded in kindness, love, connection, generosity and a strong work ethic.

Over the years I have had moments where I took my beginnings for granted. In full appreciation of my roots and what has been able to grow from them, I say this: family isn’t always perfect, but mine helped me to grow myself freely, accepting me the way I am (without knowing just how a big deal that is to me now, thank you, Ma and Dad), supporting and encouraging me, and providing me a lifetime of wonderful memories, happiness and laughter that has called me back to myself time and again when I lose myself. I may not have had faith in myself, but Ma and Dad always did. They watched the extended, years-long, phase where I wore black PVC, crushed velvet and lace clothing every weekend to the goth nightclubs I frequented with my friends. We’ve exchanged a fair few odd glances because of my textural yet noir expression, but not once did my parents ask me to re-think my outfit or try to change me. I was free to be me. They instilled that in me. The tongue piercing (disposed of seven years ago) and multiple tattoos were a little more questionable, but accepted, nonetheless. All of me was.

My second trinity offered me euphoria and elevation. Numerous hours on the dancefloor dancing the way I feel. Those younger years, while tough when it came to relationships and friendships, had a full body outlet to unleash every weekend to diffuse tension, stress and overthinking. You, on this day, a solo dance party is only a button away.

Music has been a big part of my life from the early days through to now. I analysed it in musicology in years 11 and 12, speaking on The Cure’s cover of Jimi Hendrix’s ‘Purple Haze’. I do love a great cover. Such as Depeche Mode’s cover of David Bowie’s ‘Heroes’ and Placebo’s cover of Kate Bush’s ‘Running Up That Hill’. I sought meaning and moods in music. I curated a playlist of my life with songs that brought me back through time and space. Music helped me understand, accept and express my emotive and sensitive nature. Song lyrics were poetry and put into words what I felt when I couldn’t find the words myself. They also assisted with my writing process; a word, a beat and a sound could provoke an unleashing of writing.

My third trinity, who has been with me for nearly twenty years, has shown me what love can be, how joyful togetherness is and has provided much laughter and toilet humour. My husband has been a constant source of love and support through all my challenges. My daughter has taught me by her very existence how important it is to strive for and thrive under the knowledge that I, and my beloved family, are stronger together.

Journal entry, 9 April 2016: Good heart

I grew up with my ma telling me how important it is to have a good heart. She still repeats this message to me, and I wholeheartedly believe it to be true. It’s something I’ve tried to embody and practise. Having a good heart is my ma’s way of saying be kind, compassionate and generous. I was certainly raised to be all those things and more. My ma showed me how. To this day my automatic response when meeting new people is kindness, compassion and generosity. You could say that I’m an idealist most of the time and yes, sometimes being kind, compassionate and generous has not been valued by the receiver.

Somewhere along the way as we transition from child to teenager to adult, we forget that being kind, compassionate and generous isn’t just reserved for others; it is also a gift we need to deliver to ourselves. Life can be pretty stressful, and when we are on autopilot taking care of everyone else’s needs we tend to be the first person we overlook. We think harsh thoughts of ourselves, riddling our hearts and minds with criticism, belittling, self-deprecating comments and self-doubt at a time when we need the most compassion.

Journal entry, 24 November 2022: Create where you belong

I made a note some months back to flesh out what it means to ‘create where you belong’. My friend Lauren White, who is a confidante, said it at a luxe gathering event she organised late 2021. I will get to what I was thinking at the time and how I was embodying it through the body of work I’ve created. I’ve since ruminated on it, and this is what has come up for me now.

Creating where I belong looks like unpacking this house, creating a nice office space and nook for myself, making the daily bed and lounge nests with my various textured blankets, cushions and throws, and laying about in my wine-coloured velour pants and continuing my spell bottle canvas painting project. Since 2020 and the pandemic took hold, we’ve all spent unimaginable periods of time at home. With a limited social life that barely changed since before the pandemic, I grounded more in home life. Now I realise the enormous effort and energy it takes for me to go out and socialise compared to years ago, and I need more downtime after as well.

At the onset of the pandemic and work-from-home arrangements, my husband was going to be spending seven days a week at home. He may have taken it the wrong way at first because I was content in my working-at-home situation and him being there made it noisier and more distracting. I finally got over myself after a few weeks as we turned our attention to the art of cocktail-making at home and trying various gins. This was followed sometime later by my purchase of an air fryer which I had wanted for about five years.

Finally, after the gloss of DIY gin cocktails wore off, I was back in the kitchen with my various vegetables and spices to experiment and test out in the air fryer. That air fryer got quite a workout in those first couple of weeks at our house as I perfected how I cooked my chips. I started to get my love of cooking back again, but it was slow going as I was bored and overwhelmed about shopping, meal planning and preparation decisions. It was one of many increasing signs that something had been going on with me for a long time, I just hadn’t landed on what that was yet.

At Lauren’s prompting, I realised that everything I was creating in my coaching business and body of work from 2018 onwards was to create belonging and togetherness for others. I wanted to spend more time with likeminded people and with the pandemic bursting the bubble on in-person events, virtual events and spaces were what I focused on creating (I write about it in ‘Chapter 14: Formidable Voices’). I realised it wasn’t possible to create something where I didn’t belong. It was innate to me to feel a part of not only the act of creation but the active space-holding of the work and writing I created. It was the recognition of that active space-holding over the past four years that I realised I had been holding for others far more than I had for myself. I wasn’t in any groups where I was held, and that depletion was growing in size and awareness and couldn’t be ignored.

Today, creating where I belong is about home and nourishment more than it is about creating more work and spaces, mainly because I know my energetic capacity and I’ve felt spent for many months now. I require a period of time to refuel before I do what I once did again or regroup to decide how I might change it in future to be sustainable and healthy for me and beneficial all-round. These considerations are so necessary when we are deep and sensitive feelers and/or neurodivergent and caregivers, too. We need time, space, safety and nourishment to function, perhaps more than other people, and that’s okay. It’s what we need, and we must have our needs met.

Finding the creative in you

How can we let go of perceived and projected negatives and embrace our positives? The creative process can be a very healing, enlightening and immersive experience. Its role is to remind you that kindness and self-acceptance are for you, too. Cultivating a creative practice need not be complicated, nor does it have to become a full-blown interest that you invest a lot of time and money into. It can be as simple as paper and pen and can take a few minutes a day. Or you can dive right in with paint, ink and canvas, getting messy and tactile with the materials you choose. It’s not about perfection or ‘mastering’ it, it’s for your enjoyment, pleasure, release and giving yourself the time and permission. There is no need to rush. There is no need to monetise everything you turn your hand or mind to.

As a teenager, I kept a diary and would journal all my experiences and thoughts. Some of my writings back then are cringeworthy to me today, but they were in the moment and who I was then. In my twenties I stopped keeping a journal. One too many stories of sadness and pain, I didn’t want to write them down or remember them. As I moved further into my twenties, I took up many art forms because I love creative expression. In my thirties, I returned to journaling with a creative edge—art journaling and writing. I can type way faster than I write so this is often my method of choice. I allow the words to flow and don’t read it until I’m done. Often, my writing output is just that: clearing out my thoughts and releasing from my mind whatever is clouding it. There are many words I’ve written and never re-read because the purpose it served is now complete.

• What were the messages and lessons taught to you while growing up?

• What can you take, leave, learn or even do the opposite of what you internalised?

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Gutsy Leadership

‘If your actions create a legacy that inspires others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, then, you are an excellent leader.’

—Dolly Parton

I have learned a lot about leadership in my forty-five years of living through observation and becoming a leader. The biggest lesson I have learned is dismantling preconceived patriarchal ideas on what leadership looks and acts like, and how to show up as the leader YOU want to be. This is how Gutsy Leadership came into being. Redefining leadership is the first pillar.

Throughout my career, before I freed myself from the office cubicle and became an entrepreneur full-time, I observed predominantly one type of leader: straight, white, middle-aged male—regardless of the industry or company I worked for. It baffled me on many occasions as to why this was what a ‘leader’ looked like, and I quietly questioned why this was the case when I saw many instances of little brilliance in the leaders that took up space and dominated management organisation charts. How could it be that these were the ‘best of the best’ or ‘pick of the bunch’ when it came time for succession planning or recruiting replacements? Surely there was a Black woman or an Indigenous person with the skills, experience and qualifications who was capable of filling these seats and being leaders of teams? Why aren’t companies doing anything of note regarding representation, inclusive succession planning and diverse business leadership? Bringing to light the answers to these questions around the boardroom table would shake up the foundations of any white-led, white-dominant workplace, and yet, we know that these questions won’t be adequately answered, considered or even contemplated by the status quo leadership unless a Black, Indigenous or Person of Colour with power is sitting at that table. And even then, for those of us who are Black, Indigenous, People of Colour, bringing up such issues could be career suicide. Instead of doing what would be ethical, progressive and equity-driven and focused, the choice to consistently select white leaders to succeed over everyone else is an example of white supremacy in leadership. It’s not about skills, experience, qualifications or merit. It’s about whiteness choosing whiteness again and