Pride and Prejudice
“I don’t write well.” “I’m not detail-oriented enough.” “I don’t really understand strategic planning/accounting/marketing.”
When I was first working in career development, I was startled by how often people apologized about their experience, their skills, their education. My job included helping MBA students sharpen up their resumes, but many people seemed to assume I was going to tell them they were some kind of loser. Eventually I realized that they were voicing their own inner dialogue, their habitual and largely unconscious beliefs about themselves. Those negative beliefs interfered with their ability to put their best foot forward on a resume, in interviews, or even on the job.
We all need perspective and humility in order to recognize when we’re getting off track on a project or need more information. Knowing when to ask for feedback or a second opinion allows us to perform at our best and to continue learning. That’s quite different from putting oneself down, either explicitly or without even quite noticing that we’re doing it.
Like most people, I have negative inner voices. It’s highly uncomfortable to hear what they have to say, but it’s even more uncomfortable to try to ignore them, because then they tend to get more insistent. All too often, my response to their noise derails me from my objectives: I “relax” by reading something I don’t care about, I decide to “just clean up my inbox,” before I get back to work, or I just plain forget what I was planning to do (and then kick myself for it afterwards).
It’s much more useful to listen to what the voices say and to ask myself, “Is that really true?” and “Is there another side to this story?” and maybe, “Would I speak to anyone else that way?” Most such negative messages go way back in our lives, which means the odds are that one’s child self misunderstood or overgeneralized something an exasperated parent said or took a figure of speech literally and personally. That’s probably how I acquired the voice that frequently whines, “What’s wrong with me?”
If a client or a friend said that out loud to me about themselves, I’d probably say, “What do you mean?” and ask what specifically is worrying them. Maybe I’d point out that they sound tired or ask whether they’re under deadline. But in response to my own negative self-talk I’m likely to head straight down a rabbit hole of doubts and misgivings until I’m remembering a bad spelling test in fifth grade and wondering whether I’ve ever done anything right or ever will.
There are good reasons to ask diagnostic questions, such as “How can I improve my presentation skills?” or “Would you look at this plan and tell me what I’m missing?” Answers to such questions point us in the direction of positive actions and increased competence. They presuppose that we can learn and grow, which is a good stance in any professional or personal life. It’s worth cultivating the skill of asking for feedback from the right people at the right time, and it’s also worth learning to challenge negative self-talk that produces anxiety or despair.
It’s Pride season here in San Francisco. This year is especially celebratory, because Pride events are happening in person for the first time since 2019. What we’re really celebrating, however, is the history and reality of people learning to reject negative messages, whether from other people or from within themselves, about who they are and what they contribute to the world. The profusion of rainbow flags around town and the brilliant pink triangle on Twin Peaks celebrate and encourage all of us in the endeavor to come out and celebrate our strengths, whether we are artists, engineers, activists, chefs, scientists, or managers. They encourage everyone to let go of prejudices we absorbed from family, teachers, and media and to ask, “What is well with me?” “What am I good at?” “What would I like to learn next?” They help us all to proudly claim the fruits of our experience and education, to present our point of view clearly and usefully, and to know our own value in the work we do and the lives we lead.