For as long as I remember, self-worth has been an intangible and elusive thing. The experience of being a woman is that your self-worth lies in some hidden, secret place and you spend your life like Indiana fricking Jones, looking for it. We throw spaghetti at the wall, hoping something will stick, the treasure map to self-worth will reveal itself and suddenly we will emerge healthy and whole.
Growing up a woman of color means society tells you; you’re starting a peg or two lower than your peers. It doesn’t mean their worth will come easily to them either. It just means your climb will be harder. You know all those measures of worth and benchmarks we’ve laid out for women on the path to ultimately finding their worth — well turns out, you’re not even eligible to try for them. There will be no homecoming queen crowns or cheerleading squad titles in your future. Maybe captain of the Mathletes, stick to your lane and you may just find your worth.
When I was growing up I believed that my worth lay in my career. Not in a job that would leave me happy or fulfilled or contribute in a way that I wanted, simply in titles and numbers in my bank account. I believed this with every fiber of my being and spent my life arranging things to get me to a place where I could claim this worth. I studied hard, I went to one of the best universities in the world, I over-padded my resume with extracurricular activities and prestigious internships, and eventually landed my dream job.
As time went on, and I grew in my career, I got promoted and achieved all the things we are told make us worthwhile and I kept waiting for the magical day when my worth would reveal itself. I couldn’t for the life of me explain the feeling of emptiness that dogged my steps to work. The more benchmarks of success I hit, at work, in life (I got married to my boyfriend of five years, we bought a house and adopted a puppy), the more confused I felt that this feeling of worth hadn’t revealed itself. Soon enough, I told myself. Soon enough.
Eventually, I grew tired of waiting. I wondered why, despite doing everything right, my self-worth felt like it had the range of a teaspoon. That’s when it struck me. We aren’t given the map to finding our worth. As women, we are told our worth lies at the end of this straight and narrow path, only to find ourselves at the end of it, still searching desperately scanning the map, wondering where we took a wrong turn. Like all things, our worth hides in plain sight. Every day it’s screaming to be found loved and nurtured, so that we may eventually wake up to the lie that worth is external, pick it up, and give it the biggest, warmest hug.
In 2020, I found my worth and boy was I glad to meet her. Weirdly enough, she revealed herself at a difficult time in my life. Funny how that happens. The best parts of ourselves reveal themselves to us in times when we feel we don’t have much to offer. My worth had been with me all along. In the three decades of my life, she had been walking alongside me, quietly and patiently, waiting to reveal herself when the time was right.
Since meeting her, we’ve been on an epic adventure. We’ve taken big risks, tried new things, moved to a new place, started new projects, and grown a business together. We’ve easily made new friends and connections. She doesn’t reveal herself every day. I found my worth through writing and through using my voice. Turns out, all I needed was the right combination and application of my own gifts to bring her out.
Some days my worth takes a break, and those days are hard. I work harder for the both of us, to coax her back and convince her to be a part of my life again. But she always returns. Now that I know where to look for her, she can’t elude me for long. I know I won’t find her in compliments from a stranger, in zeros in my bank account, in the beautiful mid-nineteenth century sectional that really ties the room together. I’ll find her mining for answers within myself. She’ll serve them up slowly, at the pace I need to go, but serve them up she will.
If there is one thing, I could tell women about finding worth it’s this — everything you need is already within you. The tools to find your worth are tools you were born with; you simply need to sharpen them a little. Worth itself isn’t something you need to create through jobs or clothes, or homes or trips or friends or sex. It’s like energy — you can’t create something that already exists. You simply need to find the right application of tools to chip away at the stone for the statue to reveal itself.
