You Are Here
Hello, hi.
I remember exactly where I was…is a refrain that ties us together. Election night 2016 is one of those times. Stories of champagne bottles unopened — or drank with a new, different urgency. Memories of slinking off to bed hoping that the morning would confirm that this was just a nightmare, a glitch, a mistake. How did this happen? How did I miss something so big?
I’ve talked about the 2016 election a lot. It is a piece of The Assembly story. Election Day 2016 ties in neatly with:
The crash of my first experience as a founder
A profoundly introspective turning point in my career
A confrontation of the meaning of failure
The catalyzing inspiration for building The Assembly
It makes for a nice narrative. The story works; the living of it was messy.
The more I tell this tale, the less complete it feels. But here’s a short version. For two years, I had been building an app that provided low-cost, highly vetted health, wellness, and new parenting coaching to groups of women. At 10am on Novemeber 8, my co-founders and I had a meeting with our investor that sealed our fate: we didn’t have enough runway to make it work. We would have to lay off the entire team ASAP. I left the conversation hopeful that the rest of the day’s good news would help soften the blow. That…is not what happened. This is, of course, a gross simplification of this decision, of years of work, of fumbling through what it meant to be a founder, of getting to build with a team that I loved and admired, of the agonizing days, weeks, and months leading up to this moment.
And yet there I was, early in the morning of November 9, sobbing and hyperventilating while I forced myself on a run. I wasn’t the only one in tears that day. And still, the loneliness of failure was crushing. I had failed to do what I promised my team I could do. On top of that, the world wasn’t what I thought it was. I was a fraud and a naive one at that. Amid the chaos, that truth dug itself into my brain. I couldn’t shut my eyes and ignore it or reverse the decision on my business because the timing was, ya know, really terrible. Forward is the only way, even when it doesn’t feel that way.
I tell this story not to conflate my startup’s collapse with the 2016 election. Only to place my small experience in the tableau and remind us that we each have so much going on in our lives — big, small, catastrophic, stressful, joyful, monumental, internal and external. The rest of it doesn’t stop around an election or a pandemic. Our shared experiences connect us, but no group we are a part of is a monolith. We are humans going through this. We must reach out and keep each other tethered in. We have to listen.
In the weeks after that day, I didn’t rise from the ashes like some phoenix. I wallowed and wandered and contemplated ways I could “help” while sinking into my guilt and shame. It also felt symbolically appropriate that I coudn’t sit comfortably due to a hip injury from a marathon I ran the day before halloween. Existential pain, literal pain, I deserved it all. Ultimately, to move forward I needed a lot of hands-on encouragement from people who cared. Never underestimate that power. I haven’t forgotten how that felt; it has become my motivation.
I don’t have anything significant or revolutionary to add to the conversation right now. There’s a lot of noise, and frankly, I’ve written more than I intended here already. If anything, I want to remind us that we are here and here is complicated. We have been fighting through quicksand for the past seven months. We are tired. There is a lot riding on this election and no matter what, we have to keep pushing. We are pushing forward change that is so much larger than any one election. We are creating electricity. As Isabel Wilkerson writes in her excellent book Caste:
“A single election will not solve the problems that we face if we haven’t dealt with the structure that created the imbalance to begin with.”
I’m not saying that this election isn’t worth fighting for to the bitter end (it is), just that we must go forward.
In the years between 2016 and 2020, there have been internal reckonings large and small. I’ve started to understand the catastrophic repercussions of people who look like me – white women, what’s up! – prioritizing proximity to power over everything else again and again. We’ve seen the curtain pulled back on the terrifying anger, rage, and fear that seethes just under the surface for so many in this country. We have held space for breathtaking sadness over the scars, searing and oozing, created by our history. In my own way, I stepped back into the arena to build something I believe in and love based on a thesis of human connection only to see its life cycle end far before I thought it would. I am grateful for every lesson. There is a lot left to learn.
I know there have been all of these things and more for you. In these final days leading up to election 2020 (and after), take space to put the phone down and disconnect. Go outside if you can. Read a book for 15 minutes every day. Take a step back and breathe in your big, expansive life — all that has happened and what is left to come. All the parts of our lives will go on, even if we’re not ready for it. I had a vision of all of us being together in the clubhouse on election night in 2020 and even though that’s not possible, we will be together when we share our stories.
Earlier this year we all added to our shared memory collection. I was standing in The Assembly with a handful of teammates watching the mayor on the projector screen when London Breed announced Shelter in Place. I didn’t know what was coming. I’m still learning now.
Don’t discount all that you’ve been through to get here. Never lose sight that we are each human and humans help each other. Listen. Listen. Listen to each other.
You are here. We are here.
To finish, 2020 marks the sixth time I’ve voted for president since turning 18. In an earlier draft of this newsletter I outlined where I was for all of them (I’ll spare you). For perspective, only two out of five have gone the way I voted (for the record: Gore, Kerry, Obama, Obama, Clinton…and now Biden/Harris). I am hopeful that the ratio will be an even 50-50 after this one. But, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.
Vote. If you had the opportunity to vote early and did, remember there is more you can do. If you’ve only ever waited in line a few minutes to vote, think about those who have to give up full days (or more) of their lives to exercise this right. If voting has always been a choice, fight to protect that choice. Use a small fraction of the hours you’re saving not standing in an endless, excruciating line to support those who are. Do something to show you care. Send local food trucks. Send pizza. Sign up for Manny’s phonebank-a-thon right up until the end. Don’t just do your own thing and move on.
It is my friend Chase Strangio’s birthday today. He is a hero, ACLU attorney, and transgender rights activist. For his birthday, he started a thread for us to send a little love and money to trans people who need “health care, housing, food, and beautiful things.” Consider participating.
And so, on we go. You may have notived that this is a new home for Permission Granted. More on what that means soon. As always, I’m excited you’re here.
Thank you. Thank you. Take good, good care.
xo,
Molly
P.S. Our next book club pick is Leave the World Behind by Rumaan Alam. We’ll be meeting Sunday November 22 at 4 pm. Sign up and join us!
🌱Election Day Exhale🌱
In less than one week, the votes will be cast, the letter writing and phone banking will be over, the social media will quiet at least a little, and we will all have to take a moment to breathe. November 3 will be a tough day to relax, especially knowing that the results we’re waiting for may not come right away. We all deserve a moment to come together, so we teamed up with Blood & Milk by Cora for Election Day Exhale.
Throughout the day on November 3, join us for three opportunities to breathe, flow, and sweat together with some of our most inspiring and caring expert instructors. All the events are free and open to all. Join us.
9am PST Mediation with Nkechi Njaka Nkechi will take us through a 30-minute guided meditation to start the day.
12pm PST Yoga with Liz Andolong Liz will lead us in a 60-minute slow and restorative yoga flow.
3pm PST CoreBurn with Allison TibbsAllison will have us sweating and smiling with her 30-minute signature bodyweight mat class CoreBurn.
🌟Join us. Register here. Exhale together.🌟
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