Dear First name / friend,
How do you define winning? I’ve been asking myself this question since the Grammys on Sunday. In accepting the Dr. Dre Global Impact award,
Jay-Z highlighted some of the fraught history Black artists have with the awards, from the boycott by the trailblazing duo of Will Smith and DJ Jazzy Jeff in 1989 to perhaps one of the Grammy’s most glaring contradictions: that Beyoncé, despite having won more Grammys than any other artist in history, has
never won album of the year. The kicker is that some academy members have admitted to not voting for Beyoncé to win Album of the Year because she
wins “too” much.
While most of us will never grace Grammy stages, too many of us are familiar with the dynamic of producing work that is by any measure excellent but not being acknowledged—or worse—penalized for it. We may have undertaken work that shifts the trajectory of our departments, organizations, or clients’ lives. We may even be praised for our results, yet when it comes to being acknowledged for our efforts, the rewards fall far short.
In your career, this may show up as being passed over for a promotion despite achieving stellar results, not getting that raise despite contributing to the bottom line, or worse, experiencing the marginalization of going from
office pet to office threat. This is a phenomenon in which a Black woman is hailed for her potential upon hire, but when she beings to actualize that potential and to gain results, her seniors deem her a threat, and she’s actively undermined (or in Beyoncé's case, not voted for because she wins too much).
This is the proverbial catch 22, damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
In the face of this quandary, two things must be done. The first is for leaders to create truly diverse, equitable, and inclusive environments where everyone’s contributions are equitably acknowledged, celebrated, and rewarded based on merit.
While I would love to wave my magic coaching wand and make this future a reality, it will, unfortunately, take time.
This is why the second part of what we must do is critical: we must define what winning means to us personally.
While Beyoncé may not have won Album of the Year yet, she is indisputably (whether you’re a fan or not) a cultural force and icon, the likes of which have not been seen for generations. As an artist, her ability to transcend genres, employ multiple mediums from song to dance to visuals and continue to innovate after more than two and a half decades in the industry is unparalleled. But more than that, her ability to inspire others is distinctive, whether they be fellow icons like
Oprah, lauded NFL players like
Bobby Wagner, or the queer young man who I met at Beyoncé’s London Renaissance concert. He traveled alone from Germany for this once-in-a-lifetime experience because she made him feel like he belonged—and in a stadium of thousands, that’s no small feat.
And perhaps, First name / friend, at the end of the day, that’s what winning really comes down to: the impact we have and the ways we inspire others to be well and do good in the world. By that measure, you don’t need a Grammy, a promotion, or any other accolades to win. What you need is a clear sense of who you are and what matters most to you.
So First name / friend, how do you define winning? I’d love to hear from you. Hit reply and let me know.
Until next week,
