“You can be anything you want if you work hard enough” is one of the most demoralising, tin-eared and undermining self-help mantras ever contrived.
I assume it is meant as an encouraging remark to inspire our dreams, but to me it says that if you feel left behind, or if your potential has been unrecognised, or if role models are not always visible to you, then perhaps you didn’t want it enough or try hard enough.
What no one who is super successful in business ever seems to say is that their journey started with someone recognising that they might have certain gifts and then a small army of people invested in their success by opening up networks and resources to encourage and support their early years.
As small children, if we are told we can walk in space, or win an Olympic medal, or become prime minister, this is wonderful and charming. However, if you are an exhausted adult (perhaps with chain-clanging debt, a hyperactive inner critic and caring responsibilities) and you are told the world is still our oyster if only we seize the moment and work really hard, well that’s just unnecessary and unkind. For many people, their ambition is simply to get through the week; and we should see this as a far greater triumph than most of us will ever understand.
Last week the inestimable Richard Moorhead shared a post on his Lawyer Watch blog about class and how it might play out in terms of career opportunities (https://lawyerwatch.wordpress.com/). Like Richard, I was a comp-ed and first-gen university person too. My school was a secondary modern before it became a comprehensive when my year joined. It meant everyone above us thought we were too clever for our own good, and fair game for bullying; while the teachers were just relieved if we turned up and didn’t throw chairs at them.
The real battle however was between my low confidence and the school’s low expectations. Mum and dad were lovely, but they didn’t know I needed help and I didn’t know how to ask.
A-levels were a disappointment, and my university offers fell away. I then had an offer to go to Wolverhampton Polytechnic through the clearing system, and I accepted their offer without even visiting the campus. I figured that if this was the only train leaving town, I needed to be on it wherever it was going.
As it turned out I enjoyed my time there very much (I even saw U2 in my first term in the Student Union and have loved the band ever since). I loved learning and loved the diversity of the place. I was beginning to understand myself and I felt I wanted to qualify as a lawyer. Getting into the profession however was then another tough and demoralising experience, because no one saw me, they just saw my grades. No one cared to see if there might be story to be told; all they could tell me (if they even replied) was that I was below average in everything and not for them. That was until a member of the teaching staff took a life changing interest in me and got me an interview with a friend’s high street law firm in rural Worcestershire. I was offered a training contract and I was on my way.
The sad thing however is that then and now, and at every point in between, despite General Counsel roles in major companies and representative roles on boards and councils, I have never felt that I truly belonged. I have always felt like I slipped through the barriers when I wasn’t supposed to get in. Like sitting in the theatre without the right ticket, it could only be a matter of time before I was asked to leave. Despite so many wonderful friendships and supporters, there have also been a few people who have undermined me and challenged me, and it is their words that sting forever. They sting so much because I never fought back. I passively accepted their unpleasantness because (in my mind) they had stumbled on a truth that I had been trying to hide.
I think this is why the question of where we come from matters so much. It is never, ever just about working hard and wanting something enough.
Well-meaning inclusion and social mobility policies are a beautiful start, but it isn’t just about being included, it is also about being helped with one’s (often) self-inflicted insecurity. I think this is why I am drawn to mentoring and why I know it is such a privilege to find the stories in other people. The profession is amazing in so many ways, but too often it crushes vulnerability without even realising.
I know this to be true, that we don’t all start in the same place; so that even if we seemingly arrive at the same place, how we feel at that moment is informed by our beginning and that will last forever.
“If you want something badly enough and work hard, you can be anything you want” is just bollocks, isn’t it?
The older I get, the more I see that everyone has their struggle and that everyone has their amazing story too. All our stories are only partially told and there is always so much more to be explored and treasured.
When I pause with someone to listen to their story, and if I can be a small part of their story to come, what a privilege and a gift that is for me.
And what a blessing it will be if together we all gain from the kindness of listening to each other and from paying attention to all our stories.
Take care. Paul xx
