Be Outrageous

These last 2 weeks, I haven't published any writing. I somehow managed to give myself anxiety, after a few people I don't know and some I do know said they were reading my letters and encouraged me to keep writing. In one of the groups I am on, someone even quoted me. GASP!

Something about that, being perceived, stressed me out. Like I am writing in the public domain, but didn’t want to be looked at 😅

This isn’t unique to writing for me; I could have just been on stage and there were 300 people in the audience, and I agreed to be there, but hearing feedback, being acknowledged somehow makes me anxious after the fact. 

Then, I came across this one lady who shared her mother’s advice:
“You can be anything you want to be, so long as you are outrageous.”

Something about that statement fixed the internal dialogue I’d been having. I’d been worrying: What if people see me? What if experts in the field see? What if they all think I am silly?

But the idea of being outrageous shifted my perspective. And for me, it was simple: Push through the discomfort. I am the only one causing said discomfort. It is more about my own insecurities and my own perception of self.

For some, being outrageous means dancing on TikTok. For others, it’s being loud and consuming the room. For some, it’s simply walking into the room or asking a question. Apparently, for me, it’s the idea of knowing people are seeing me.

I think many women can relate to this. You do something that seems normal, largely imperceptible, but inside, your heart is racing like you’ve just sprinted 100 meters trying to catch Usain Bolt and then lost miserably.

This reminded me of an incident from three years ago, “incident” is doing a lot of heavy lifting in this sentence. 😀 I was at a conference three years ago; it was during an “Investing in Women” session. Naturally, at 2 PM on the last day, with women on the panel, women moderating, and even more women in the audience. There were a couple of guys there, as usual. A couple like exactly two.

At the time, people had started adding a woman to the team, giving her the COO title and 2% equity to tick the diversity box. The room was animated, and one guy said, “How much equity should a person have to be considered a founder? If you have 2% and I say you’re a co-founder, you’re a co-founder.” 

I responded, “Well, according to YC, a founder would need to have at least…” Before I could finish, he interrupted, “That’s YC. That’s a US thing. We aren’t in the US.” 

I was shocked by the interruption, but continued, “Why are we picking and choosing? We’re all using SAFEs, which came from YC.” But by then, the room had moved on, and I’m not even sure if I said it out loud. It felt like screaming in your dreams, and no sound actually comes out.

My ears were ringing. I was shaking. My face was hot. I was livid for an hour afterward and thought about that interaction for months, obviously, since I’m still talking about it three years later. 

I was stressed because I had been blending into the conversation, and then I was challenged, interrupted, and overlooked. Or so I thought. I imagined people going home and saying, “Whoa, remember that huge fight?” or “Remember that girl who quoted YC?” or “Remember how she tried to challenge that big man?” I pictured them screaming, “Shame, shame!” in the public square (which, by the way, is my new favorite phrase). 

The idea that I was being perceived had me stressed for so long. To me, speaking up to someone more experienced in the ecosystem felt outrageous. Why would you speak so loud? Outrageous. Why would you challenge him? Outrageous. He probably knows more than you. (Which could still be true.) OUTRAGEOUS!

But the truth is, no one was thinking of me. No one remembers that conversation. No one noticed a single thing. That part of the conversation wasn’t especially weird. And, in fact, my suggestion wasn’t insane.

What’s important, for you and me, is to do things that we think are outrageous. Sometimes, that’s just speaking up. It’s speaking your mind. It’s answering a question. It’s joining that panel. It’s posting your shock, surprise, utter delight, or whatever in that Linkedin post. You’ll be wrong often, but no one will beat you, and you’re free to change your mind. 

You’ll be hot in the face, and your voice will shake, but the only person who thinks you’re outrageous is you. And anyone else? is irrelevant. 

This week, I’m feeling better and decided to use my free will however I want.