On Being a Wholehearted Hard-Ass

Like many (strong) women, I’m often perceived as being intimidating by peers and colleagues.

Despite my attempts to discourage this perception among my peers in graduate school, it remained. And now, six months into my first professional role, the perception is back. My intimidating nature remains coupled with being bossy, fiery, and my new favorite – being a hard-ass.

These mischaracterizations used to erode my self-confidence. The constant onslaught of critique by people who didn’t know my story made me doubt my worthiness. These appraisals of my value affected my well-being because I lived in fear. Fear of saying the wrong thing, fear of saying the right thing in way that was too raw or too real, fear of living my truth.

Here’s the thing – I can’t become the woman I was meant to be if I choose to live in fear. I can feel challenged by the complex nature of the issues I want to tackle in my lifetime. I can feel frustrated by the lack of justice in my community. I can feel unsettled when I critically engage in a difficult dialogue.

But I refuse to be afraid of being called a hard-ass, intimidating, or a bitch by a colleague when I’m simply standing inside of my story.

Last year at the NASPA Annual Conference, I had the phenomenal experience of participating in the Candid Conversations program. For those of you unfamiliar, the program provides a one on one mentoring session with a senior level woman working in higher education. I shared openly with my listener about the challenges I was facing (I was really living the “daring greatly” motto at the time) and how difficult it was for me to express my identity through my work in higher education. She astutely pointed out that I had the tendency to invalidate my own voice. As a woman, and especially as a woman of color, I have enough people seeking to invalidate my lived experience. Why should I be leading that charge?

Since that conversation, I’ve reflected constantly on how to articulate my lens as a woman of color in a way that is authentic and purposeful. I’ve come to the realization that in my pursuit to take up space and to lend my voice to the things that matter, that I have become intimidating to some of my women colleagues. Not because of the intentional actions on my part but because of their own inaction.

Let me be upfront about something – I know that I intimidate men. I’ve been openly reprimanded because I don’t have an interest in collaborating with men who can’t be challenged or expect me to be complicit with a vision that doesn’t align with my values. I’ve known this since high school and don’t spend too much time thinking about ways to placate affronted masculinity. That said, I know that if I’m intimidating the sex that is afforded certain privileges in our society simply because of their genitalia, it is possible my strength of purpose can be intimidating to some of the women within my organization.

It isn’t my intention to make others feel uncomfortable or scared to approach me with their ideas or feedback – I actually encourage it!  I subscribe to the philosophy, “we rise by lifting others.” Regardless of your multiple and intersecting identities, my liberation is connected to your liberation. If we (you and me) want to be free, we have to work together. I do my best to be thoughtful in the ways that I work with and serve the women at my institution. But, I also recognize that there can be something threatening about working on a team with a woman who doesn’t say what her value is but rather, works alongside you quietly and shows you her worth. I also know that on a team that consists primarily of white women, characteristics associated with me being a woman of color feel heightened.

I’m confident when I share my opinion. Not because I think I’m right but because I’ve lived in a society where my voice hasn’t always carried weight.

I have high standards of work that I seek to exceed. Not because I want our supervisors to compare our work but, because I’ve been socialized to believe that I have to work twice as hard to gain the same means as everyone else on our team.

I feel comfortable saying no without qualifications. Asserting my voice requires more than installing an Internet add-on that removes the “just” or “actually” from my email communication. My saying no is an act of tribute for all of the women who’ve come before me and had a “yes” given on their behalf.

I have been conditioned to overcome.

So the next time you feel compelled to call the empowered woman on your team a hard-ass because she’s doing her job (and doing it well), take a moment to consider if you’re actually attempting to relegate her to a role that fits your narrative.

The strong women you admire are resilient for a reason.

Jasmine Scott is the Coordinator for the Keith B. Key Center for Student Leadership and Service at The Ohio State University. Her interests in higher education include student identity development, leadership, and policy reform. Connect with her on twitter @jasminemscott.