I was boarding a flight when I met a retired college president waiting in the same boarding line. She was one of those people who can extract your entire life story while standing in an airport line. By the time we reached the gate, she knew about my business, my community work, my speaking career, and probably half of my résumé.
She also had a habit of saying nice things about people. And unfortunately for her, she happened to be talking to me. As she reflected back some of the things she’d learned about my career, I did what I’ve done a thousand times before.
I explained them away.
A little luck. Good timing. The right people. The opportunities that came my way.
If you’ve ever complimented me, you’ve probably heard some version of this.
Halfway through my response, I caught myself. I laughed and literally said “I need to follow my own advice.”
She tilted her head. “And what’s your advice?”
Me: “Accepting a compliment.”
She smiled. “Want to try again?”
Then she repeated what she’d said.
This time I simply replied: “Thank you.”
It took about two seconds.
Apparently, that’s all I needed to say in the first place. The funny thing is that I should have known better. One of my goals this year has been to intentionally recognize excellence in other women.
Not to think it.
Not to tell someone else later.
To actually say it.
A great conference session.
A thoughtful observation.
Strong leadership.
A fabulous dress worn by a complete stranger (ohmygosh it has pockets!)
Whatever it is, if I notice it, I try to say something.
I’ve discovered how much I love watching what happens next.
A woman stands a little straighter. Literally. She literally grows in confidence in front of my eyes. She smiles. She takes up just a little more space.
It’s subtle, but once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
And every time, I find myself thinking:
Take the space, girl. It’s yours.
A friend once told me I was good at making people feel important. I told him that wasn’t what I was trying to do. I was trying to make people feel valued.
That distinction matters.
Important sounds like status.
Valued sounds like worth.
I want people to know that what they do matters. That someone noticed. That someone sees them.
I once complimented the leader of a women-led organization that is doing incredible work and managing conferences we all love. Her immediate response was to redirect the recognition to her team.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Teams matter. I’ve spent my entire career working with teams.
There’s a difference, though, between sharing credit and rejecting recognition.
“Thank you. I have an amazing team.”
That’s sharing credit.
“Oh, it wasn’t me. The team does all the hard work.”
That’s something else. And if I’m being fair, it’s something I’ve done myself for years.
The more I’ve paid attention, the more I’ve realized how many accomplished women struggle to take up space when recognition comes their way.
Not because they’re insecure.
Not because they’re not qualified.
Not because they don’t know their stuff.
Many of them are among the smartest, most accomplished people in the room.
Yet somehow we’ve learned that acknowledging our own contributions feels uncomfortable.
As if accepting recognition takes something away from everyone else.
It doesn’t.
Recently during the Bad Ass Bitches session at DynamicsCon (and again at Dynamics Minds), I shared parts of my story that many people didn’t know.
I talked about things I don’t usually talk about on stage.
Not because I wanted sympathy.
Not because I wanted applause.
I wanted someone sitting in that audience to know they weren’t alone.
Afterward, several women came up to me. Not to compliment the session. Not to tell me I was inspiring.
They said things like:
“Thank you for sharing.”
“You made me cry.”
“Oh my gosh, I had no idea.”
Those comments stuck with me. Not because they made me feel important. Because they made me feel valued.
There is a difference.
They weren’t responding to my accomplishments. They were responding to a moment of connection. They saw a piece of themselves in the story. And maybe that’s why this whole topic has been bouncing around in my head lately.
That’s when I realized something. The women I compliment. The conference leader. The retired college president in the airport. The women who approached me after the session.
None of us were really talking about accomplishments.
We were talking about value.
We were trying to tell another human being:
I see you.
What you’re doing matters.
Many leaders think their job is to motivate people. I think a lot of the best leaders do something simpler. They help people see their own value.
Once people see that value, motivation often takes care of itself.
People take risks when they believe they belong.
They submit the session.
They apply for the job.
They raise their hand.
They share the idea.
They tell the story.
They take the space.
I still love watching women stand a little straighter when someone notices what they’ve done.
For just a moment, they take up a little more space.
Take the space, girl.
It’s yours.
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