The Woman in the Arena

In high school, my English teacher gave the class a piece of advice I will never forget: fail loudly. The context then was to read aloud with confidence despite not knowing the correct pronunciation of words in Socrates’ “The Apology,” but that bit of wisdom has become a mantra for me in every facet of my life since.

On April 23, 1910 Theodore Roosevelt, a year after leaving office, delivered a speech in Paris titled “Citizenship in a Republic.” In his speech, Roosevelt chastised the cynics who jeer at the ones trying to make a difference in a passage that would come to be known as the “Man in the Arena.”

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belong to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes up short again and again; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

It takes courage to fail loudly, arguably more than to succeed. Failing has become so taboo today, in an age of social media feeds overflowing with everyone’s every achievement. We have optimized success to the point of not even mentioning the process. A pristine finished product is all that’s wanted. No admission of the false starts, the trials and hardships. And god forbid you fail. The critics circle like vultures as soon as you begin, willing you to misstep, to stumble, to fall. Then when you do, they pity the way you tried.

It’s a shame these naysayers never allow themselves the privilege of trying. They will never know the satisfaction of a fight well fought or, conversely, the sting of defeat. So they will never learn. Life’s greatest lessons hide in the trying, not the outcome nor the triumph. We learn through the process, because it is in the process you find the subtleties of what makes win and loss. When we dare to fail greatly, I think we dare to do something else too: we dare to believe that we are worthy despite the outcome and dare to try again. 

I hope we will fail so greatly, so loudly, that the outside eye may think we have won. And I suppose we will have won, though in a less obvious way. We will gain the experience of doing the thing; the confidence to vocalize our pitfalls despite the norm of burying them; we will rise above the critics who mask their insecurity behind a veil of self-righteousness.

As you try and try again, take refuge in knowing your critics have never known the sweet taste of victory or the sourness of defeat; and be proud of your failures, because they are merely proof that you ever had the courage to try. 

Creativity is Hard.

It’s hard for me to identify with being creative. When I tell people i’m a fashion merchandising student they always come to the conclusion that I must be a unique and artistic mind oozing with thoughts akin to those of Christian Dior and Gianni Versace. Not quite. In fact, I don’t feel that way at all. I do surround myself with creatives though. I have friends in both the fashion merchandising and design programs, my roommate is an art minor, and most of my other friends are musicians. These are the people who are practically bursting at the seems with ideas and inspiration, not me.

I think when those around you are constantly ideating and expressing themselves through various mediums, it’s hard not to compare yourself. Creativity is an infinite resource, it will never run out; However, I think the tap sometimes releases only a trickle instead of a full on stream. These moments of creative drought tend to negate any past creative triumphs and leave one feeling bland and uninspired. I’m in one right now. My personal expression of creativity looks different than my friends and peers. I’m not designing and sewing beautiful garments, i’m not working with acrylic paints, and i’ve never once written a song. I express myself through what I wear, mood boards, slide decks, ideas, how I decorate my room, and overall aesthetic. The last one is the biggest for me, because how do I explain that I’m really good at curating “a vibe?” It sounds silly, even to me, and I know exactly what i’m talking about.

Best way I can describe it using the same creative energy that I described in my friends and applying it using color, visuals, tone of voice, feel, and mood. It’s like a big bowl of creative soup that I strategically pour into my assignments and day to day life making sure each bite is perfectly balanced. It may not always be tangible to others, but for me its all-encompassing. I feel it, I know it, I understand it. It’s a powerful tool, one that doesn’t restrict me to just one medium. You can see it in action right now as you’re reading this blog post. I designed this website using carefully curated colors, fonts, and photos. The layout was designed with the intention to lead you across the site. My tone of voice while writing this is intended to make you stay and lean into what i’m saying. It’s all creative!

What i’ve found is that creativity or even art does not need to be some grand opus that is easily distinguishable as being so. It’s the little things. Arranging your bookshelf, picking a font, writing an instagram caption, and queuing up a song for your morning drive: it all comes from a place of inspiration.

Cool It Off Before You Burn It Out

Billy Joel wrote Vienna for me, specifically. Not really, but that song speaks to me in such a specific way that it’s almost suspicious. I’m a girl with big dreams and little to no idea how to achieve them. The truth is, the future scares me, a lot. My greatest fear is that I will get to the end of my life and look back to see that it was unremarkable.

I found Vienna in June of 2020. The height of the pandemic, I was sitting in my backyard at dusk and listening to music from some random Spotify playlist when the dreamy piano chords began to play. I heard the first line:

Slow down you crazy child

You’re so ambitious for a Juvenile

But then if you’re so smart tell me,

Why are you still so afraid?

In that moment I felt as if Billy Joel was staring into my soul. As someone who relies on her intelligence and wit, I felt called out. Up until that point, I was pretty much banking on the idea that I could talk my way into achieving my goals if necessary. But oh, am I so afraid. The fear of not succeeding, with no legacy to leave behind, plagues me. Maybe it’s because i’m an enneagram 4w3, or maybe its just how my brain is hard-wired. Either way, June of 2020 exacerbated it all. At this point of my life every hope, fear, and anxiety was swirling around my head in a tornado of doubt and frustration. This song found me at just the right time.

At the time, I was spending so much time worrying that I wasn’t doing enough, that somehow, life was going to pass me by and I wouldn’t even get the opportunity to live. Vienna took me in and told me that I was going to be okay. So often we waste our lives trying to satisfy the urge to succeed that we forget to enjoy the journey. Truth is, I will never be satisfied, I will always want more. If I’m truly honest with myself I don’t see a future where I won’t want to reach the next milestone and continue to achieve more and more. So why am I putting a time limit on something that won’t even fulfill me? I was rushing my whole life away, and the funniest thing is that it was all in my head! I was wasting so much mental energy just thinking about how I hadn’t done enough.

The second line: “you gotta cool it off before you burn it out,” made me realize that at the rate I was going, my dreams would drain me before I ever got to the good part. I had to slow down. That doesn’t mean that I stopped being a dreamer, it’s a fundamental part of who I am, but relishing in the journey is what’s going to make it that much sweeter when I cross that finish line. I needed to slow down and allow myself to find joy in the now. I have an entire life ahead of me, why on earth should I waste it away at the beginning? I will achieve great things… eventually. I’ve allowed myself to trust the process because now I know that Vienna waits for me.

Miss Independent

Some call it stubbornness, I call it independence. In high school, I was involved in everything music: choir, musicals, talent shows, piano, voice lessons, all of it. Everyone around me pretty much assumed that’s where my life was heading. I would probably go to a music school and find some sort of career as a singer of some kind. I didn’t like that though. Don’t get me wrong, I loved music (and I still do), but I didn’t love people assuming they knew the trajectory of my life. I’ve always been one to do my own thing, always miss independent.

I have always loved doing the opposite of what others suggest. When I was in 3rd grade my mom randomly suggested I keep growing my hair out. What did I do? I had my grandma take me to get a bob haircut. It did not look good but I liked it because I made the decision. I will never be satisfied if it isn’t a decision I’m making for myself. So when it was time to decide where to go to college and what to do with my life, I took the road less traveled by so to speak.

Now, maybe doing a complete 180 into the fashion industry came from a place of wanting to be unique, but I think it came more so from a desire to prove others wrong. I always had an interest in fashion and design in general. I was voted best dressed senior year. But deciding to come to Nashville for fashion school definitely subverted expectations. Oh, how I loved telling people about my college plans, I loved the surprise mixed with a type of worry on their faces, I loved their questions, I loved it all.

Now I’m here. I’m in the thick of it and I still love it. School has its growing pains, but the satisfaction of allowing myself to be creative and to follow a path I paved solely for myself makes it all worth it.