It’s hard to build a business when the world is on fire
People who work for yourselves — as consultants or freelancers or wranglers of teams — how do you do it? How do you get up every morning, in the face of all that is wrong in the world, and find the motivation to write chipper words promoting your work? How do you marshal the necessary focus and positive energy required to pitch new clients and imagine excellent outcomes?
How, knowing that today, children are shivering on cots in rooms that resemble walk-in freezers, while their parents are being detained in other cold rooms that might as well be light years away, while guards wearing the flag of the United States lurk on the other side of a chain link fence? How, knowing that today, the president of our country will surely make cruel, racist remarks on a public platform, and that people will sigh or shout in response, but that it will all be forgotten in a matter of hours, just in time for his next tirade? How, knowing that today will reveal yet another judgement for yet another law enforcement officer who has killed or injured a person of color, a judgement that will almost surely declare him innocent?
How? I visit LinkedIn some days, and wonder at the posts that appear in my feed, so optimistic and results-focused that their authors appear to be living on another planet. Companies are raising millions of dollars in funding. People are writing books. Consultants are launching websites.
I want to know how they do it. This is not a facetious request. It is not an attempt to be snarky or throw shade. I want to be productive again. I want to bring in new work and get involved in interesting projects.
But here’s the thing 🙈
Since early 2017, I’ve felt increasingly mired in horror and sorrow. I’ve had a hard time keeping my “business face” on. I’ve struggled to write about my work, or build my network, or update my portfolio. Why bother, when the world is literally and figuratively on fire?! I’ve continued to do good work, on projects I’m proud of, but putting myself out there felt… crass. Nearly every time I drafted a post about my work, I ended up deleting it.
I’m not ashamed about feeling stuck; being overwhelmed is a natural response to a crushing assault on humanity. We shouldn’t be able to shrug it off. And yet. My stuckness isn’t helping. Not me, and not anyone else.
People who run their own businesses are like batteries 🔋
We have to stay charged, or else we can’t power the work that keeps us alive. That’s the deal when you run your own thing: You have to be energized enough to find the work, do the work, and then talk about the work. No wonder some of my consultant friends have taken jobs in the past couple of years; I can imagine the relief of plugging into a system that’s already humming.
I want to start building my business again, but without looking away. Without feeling like I’m standing on the wrong side of history, blithely letting people rot in concentration camps while I build my personal brand. Move forward, without giving in.
Is that possible? I don’t know yet. There aren’t any easy answers.
But I do know that it’s vitally important to get back in the game. To develop strategies that allow me to both build and fight. I’m still wobbly, but here’s what I’ve figured out so far:
Projects with purpose are worth seeking out. I recently worked on a messaging project with a team of CIOs that created a cybersecurity training program with a community college in Oakland. Because it’s so affordable and accessible, it has already attracted a diverse student base that otherwise might not have gotten into tech. Projects like that recharge me.
Promoting my work is good and necessary. I can talk about my work with pride. I can share things I’m doing in between posts about upcoming political actions or issues. If a potential client doesn’t like the fact that I’m worried about the rise of white nationalism, we probably aren’t a good fit anyway.
Rationing Twitter is important for my mental health. Twitter is hugely valuable – I follow a number of activists who offer concrete action steps, but it’s also deeply stressful. I try to get what I need and get out, but “try” is the operative word there. It’s not easy.
Sending money makes a difference. There are a number of amazing organizations working on behalf of people who have been marginalized. Even small amounts help. I try to focus on the smaller orgs, where dollars stretch farther.
Sharing the work of colleagues and peers is hugely rewarding. We’re all in this together, and amplifying each others’ businesses and newsletters and books and successes is so important. Your work helps me imagine better possibilities, and for that I’m deeply grateful.
Never being on Facebook is ideal. Posts from family members who love to share Bible verses and conspiracy theories, but aren’t bothered by human rights violations, enrages me in ways that aren’t healthy. Even a few minutes on Facebook can wreck me.
Taking care of myself is worth it. Eating well. Moving my body. Breathing fresh air. Sleeping, or at least trying. It’s easy to feel like nothing matters. But at a time when human dignity is on the line, nourishing myself is a form of defense.
Sometimes, when I’m actually able to do these things, I feel more resolved. I send that email or finish that proposal. In those moments, I know that building my business is a form of hope, a belief that things won’t always be this bad. That we won’t always have a racist sexual predator as a president. That women, especially women of color, will not always have targets on their backs. That the camps will close, and families will be reunited.
This hope exists alongside being angry in the present. It sits with heartache, not away from it. It doesn’t deny the horrors happening around us. It doesn’t pretend that everything is okay. It requires action, not willful ignorance.
I don’t know how to do this. How to build something even as the walls are falling down. But I’m determined to take one small action, and then another. I’ll keep following the lead of those who have done far more in far more dire circumstances. That’s all I’ve got for now.
If you’re running a small business, or consulting, or freelancing, how are you doing? Tell me; I want to know.
