As 2016 began, my fiftieth birthday was looming. And like so many other women, I had been conditioned to view it as a scary rite of passage. So I decided to make my half-century mark empowering instead. I wanted to challenge myself and tackle new goals, to make it a positive experience and celebrate it. I was taking stock, one step at a time. First, I wanted to feel good about myself, so I decided to go carb-free. I also decided it was time to leave some boards on which I had served for many years, and join new ones.
My family gathered to celebrate my birthday in a special way. I was overwhelmed with emotion by lyrics that my husband and dad rewrote to the tune of the well-known song “7 Years” by Lukas Graham, performed by my son Christian. One refrain they rewrote went:
Now that I’m fifty years old,
Will I live a life so bold?
Will I follow bolder dreams that inspire me?
Now that I’m fifty years old.
Ever sweet and loving, Kaia gave me a book of inspirations and personal reflections, her top fifty things about mom. My favorite: “If you wanted to, you could easily become the first woman president of the United States.” I don’t know about easily, but I loved that I’ve raised my daughter to think big and know that anything is possible.
As my family and friends celebrated my life that day, I could not have anticipated that my small, immediate goals would be overwhelmed by a tsunami of change that threatened to sweep me off my feet.
I’ve always been a thinker and planner, whether preparing myself for a violin competition or a job I really wanted. But I’ve also been motivated by other people’s accomplishments, as reflected by such simple things as a few inspirational words. Over the past few years, I’d made it a habit to post a motivational quote each day on Instagram as a way of lifting myself up while trying to inspire those who follow me.
But in the spring of 2016, I started posting with more intensity:
Never forget three types of people in your life. #1: Who helped you in your difficult times. #2: Who left you in your difficult times. #3: Who put you in difficult times.
And this one:
The strongest people are not those who show strength in front of us, but those who win battles we know nothing about.
I was trying not only to motivate others, but also to infuse myself with the courage to face what might lie ahead.
And though she be but little, she is FIERCE.
This was me. I had decided to Be Fierce.
And so I did it. I decided to jump off a cliff, all by myself, with no safety net and no way of knowing what would lie below. I never, ever expected to be the face of sexual harassment, but here I am. Sometimes you can’t choose your life’s direction. My life has been proof of that, always working in mysterious ways. There have been many twists and turns, from concert violinist to Miss America to twenty-five years in TV, but I’ve always had one constant as my foundation: when faced with a challenge, no matter how big or small, I never give up, and I always give it my all.
In August 2016, Casey and I went on one of the most magnificent trips we’ve ever done. I’d always wanted to see Croatia, and it lived up to every expectation. It was an incredibly adventurous trip, which was fun for me after being locked down in my house and, of course, not working. One of the more daring tours was a zip line across the Cetina Canyon and River—eight wires running a total of nearly seven thousand feet. But it was the drop below that really mattered. I’d never seen anything like it. If you’re looking for a serious adrenaline rush, imagine zipping your way across a gorge five hundred feet above a canyon suspended by just a wire!
For the record, I may be a badass, but I’ve never been fond of roller coasters or heights, so the zip line was going to be a huge challenge for me. I’d signed up to do it not knowing the full details, and when I saw it, I was ready to bail. I was literally having a mini panic attack. My heart was racing beyond control, and I started getting that feeling you get before you pass out. I was weak in the knees as I watched other brave souls jump into oblivion. But with my helmet and protective belts all attached, waiting for my turn, I decided to say “Screw it.” I’d already jumped off a cliff earlier that summer. How could this be any worse?
So I did it. There was no turning back. And with every jump it became easier and easier, even as the gorges below became deeper and deeper. Confronting challenges that you’ve never had the guts to face before feels great. I empowered myself to say “I can do this”—and that’s my message for others.
While I was going through this transition in my life, I received a very moving email from a male friend. He wrote about his wife, who had recently passed away, and a vivid dream he’d had in which she was standing in front of him speaking. He said he also saw me in the dream, and he thought his wife was telling him to reach out to me. So he did. What he said really made an impression. He wrote, “What you have gone through in the last month or so is what I call a ‘pivot point.’ We all have them. My wife dying was the biggest pivot point of my life. When you face pivot points, you have two options: stay the course, or pivot and change the direction of your life. I chose to pivot at age forty-nine. I think the same opportunity presents itself to you now.”
It felt so poignant and true to me, I’m so thankful he made the effort to send his message along. It’s amazing what small gestures or notes can do to affect peoples’ lives. After reading his email, I printed it and looked at it frequently. And I finally decided to accept the challenge and pivot, starting with this book. I chose the title Be Fierce because it is a call to action. It means being powerful, strong, brave, and having integrity—and it evoked those aspirations. “Be fierce” was definitely a rallying cry that we could all believe in. But on a deeper level, the call to be fierce spoke to what was in my heart.
Let me tell you more about what being fierce means to me.
Even when you’re small, being fierce means standing tall. Like many people, I was delighted by the unexpected appearance on March 7, 2017, of a bronze statue named Fearless Girl, which appeared suddenly across from the Charging Bull sculpture on Wall Street. Hands on her hips, the girl looked as if she was challenging the mighty bull. “Know the power of women in leadership,” the plaque at her feet read. “SHE makes a difference.”
The statue was part of a campaign by the asset managers State Street Global Advisors, and was created by sculptor Kristen Visbal. McCann North America, the advertising agency for the project, designed the girl to appeal to the largest audience. For this reason, they made her Latina, so, in the words of Devika Bulchandani, the president of McCann XBC and the managing director of McCann New York, she could feel universal and “be an inspiration for everybody—fathers who have little girls and husbands who have wives… white, black, Indian—it should speak to the broadest audience.”
The statue has inspired a lively public conversation, which I’ve enjoyed. The juxtaposition of traditional male power with female ferocity thrilled many women and girls, and infuriated others, including the bull’s sculptor, Arturo Di Modica, who complained it was just a gender-oriented publicity stunt. “My bull is a symbol for America,” Di Modica told the press. “My bull is a symbol of prosperity and for strength.” And the girl was not? Perhaps his statement was an inadvertent expression of the attitudes that have defined Wall Street and many corporate environments for too long.
Being fierce is controversial, as this statue has been. But the statue has also been celebrated. It has become a common sight to see young girls posing beside the statue or taking selfies with their arms wrapped around her. The placement of Fearless Girl, which was originally given a thirty-day permit, was extended for a year. But petitions are under way to make it permanent. I, for one, hope she sticks around. But we can’t afford to be naive about how hard this fight is. In May 2017, another New York City artist placed a statue of a peeing dog, titled Pissing Pug, aimed at Fearless Girl. Yes, it’s all free speech, but I think it just makes her look stronger.
To be fierce means to stand up and show our faces. Be bold. A man wrote to me, “Please do not look in the mirror, because we have enough broken mirrors in the world already!” Ha! I will not look away at the behest of a crude commenter. I will engage, not retreat.
Even women who are defined by their boldness have moments when they are faced with a painful choice about standing up for themselves. That was the case for Lady Gaga, one of the most talented and flamboyant performers, who realized that the story of her rape, many years earlier, needed to be shared. In a 2015 TimesTalk, Gaga described how she didn’t tell anyone for many years about her rape by a man twenty years her senior. “I didn’t know how not to blame myself or think it was my fault,” she said. She thought her provocative style, as a woman and a performer, had “brought it on myself.” But she felt compelled to stand up and speak out, for the good of others. “I’m here because when I look out onto the sea of beautiful young faces that I get to sing and dance for, I see a lot of people who have secrets that are killing them,” Gaga said. “We don’t want you to keep your pain inside and let it rot like an old apple on your counter, you know? It’s like, just get rid of all that trash. Let’s get rid of it together.”
The many women who spoke to me for this book are standing tall. Even though they were unable to advocate for themselves in the moments when they were suffering, they are doing it now. Time and again, women told me they were setting aside their pain, their shame, and their desire to lock their experiences away, in order to be part of the change. And many of them said they were surprised how, in finally speaking openly and frankly, they were released from the self-critical thoughts that had haunted them. Sometimes all it takes is for someone else to say:
You were assaulted.
You were harassed.
You were bullied.
You were wronged.
It’s not your fault.
You deserve to be whole.
“It’s not bigger than you,” wrote a woman who was driven out of her job by sexual harassment, but who now works as a resilience coach. She didn’t always have the strength to see that. Describing her frame of mind when she left her job, she wrote, “The violation hurt me to the depth of how I defined myself. I had done nothing wrong, but I felt shame. I felt low self-worth. I was resentful because I had done everything right. Everything I had always believed about myself was shattered. My career just blew up. Now I channel my compassion to give women the gift of what I didn’t have.”
These kinds of statements make me sad. There is so much pain out there. One woman, who had been retaliated against and fired after reporting sexual harassment, told me that sometimes she couldn’t get out of bed in the morning. She referenced the “Index of Dread,” which she’d read about in Oprah Winfrey’s O magazine, saying, “My dread level right now is off the charts.” Yet even in such great pain, she said, “They robbed me, but I am going to take it back.”
It’s important for us all to agree that there’s another big step we have to take, beyond the personal. We all must not only be advocates for ourselves, but for each other, and for the future we want to create for our children. That means getting involved in advocacy programs to fight sexual harassment and assault. It means fighting public policies that diminish women’s worth in these situations. It means calling your congressperson, state and local representatives, and governor’s office to lobby for bills that protect women and fight laws such as forced arbitration. It means refusing to support companies with bad sexual harassment records. It means always, always voting, whether it’s for the local school board or the president of the United States.
This fight is bigger than any individual. Lisa Bloom’s advice: “Toughen up. We have rights that other generations fought for. We have to defend them.”
Hypocrisy is killing any attempt for bipartisan action. And sometimes you just have to stick to your values, even when your position is unpopular. On June 12, 2016, mere weeks before my job ended, a twenty-nine-year-old security guard burst into an Orlando nightclub with a military-style assault weapon, killing forty-nine and wounding fifty-three more. It was the worst terrorist attack on American soil since 9/11. The victims were mostly young people. I was heartsick and also outraged at the senseless nature of the crime, and because the perpetrator would not have been able to randomly slaughter so many people so quickly if he hadn’t been able to buy an assault weapon. I decided to state publicly my feelings about reinstating the military assault weapon ban.
And the criticism was rampant. To me, this is an issue that seems like common sense, but if you even hint at creating any restrictions in the gun laws, the response is immediate and vicious. The f-bombs were flying. I was called a “libby,” a “moron,” and “brain dead.” I was accused of being a traitor. People wrote, “It’s bimbos like her that hurt good people.” I’d never seen anything like it. So the next day I decided to come out again, stronger than ever. In my mind, the assault weapons ban was the right thing to do. I wasn’t saying to get rid of the Second Amendment. Far from it.
I tell this story because we all have moments in our lives when we are faced with a choice to speak out about what’s right or remain silent. Acts of bravery can be small and large. They don’t have to occur before audiences of millions to make an impact. Writing this book, I’ve had the honor to meet many women and men who perform acts of courage in their own workplaces and communities on behalf of women, and suffer the consequences. They know this is a moment in history when they must stick to their values and be fierce. And they might suffer for it, but in the long run they are creating a change that will mean a better society for future generations.
It’s been gratifying to me that the world is finally paying attention too. Recently I was honored at the Variety Power of Women Luncheon. I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience in front of two thousand people as they spoke about how proud they were of me for standing up and speaking out. It demonstrated that a single decision you make can be a huge, defining moment. It made me realize once again that I will not tolerate hypocrisy in our national discussion of life-and-death issues. If we’re going to combat the evils in our society—and they include the way women are objectified, harassed, bullied, and abused—we have to open our minds and hearts, and confront truths that might be uncomfortable. We must then do the right thing, whether or not it fits neatly into our chosen political box.
I’ve often referred to a quote, attributed to various people, that has come to mean a great deal to me: “One woman can make a difference, but together we can rock the world.” I believe this is demonstrably true. But I also believe that together means all of us.
We’ve talked a lot about how the passivity of bystanders contributes directly to a harassment culture. Don’t be a bystander. That directive is for both women and men. I was quite struck to hear the thoughtful and honest reflections of one woman who acknowledged that early in her career in a male-dominated field, she too participated in the environment of disrespecting women. Relieved that she was accepted by the men as one of the “guys,” she wanted very much to hold on to that status. On occasion, she participated when they joked about other women in the company, and she shared their judgmental opinions. Only later, when she encountered serious harassment herself, did she recognize that by failing to support other women, she had inadvertently been part of the problem.
It has been sad for me to receive many negative and hurtful messages from women, who clearly do not understand the damage created by sexual harassment. Like this one: “I’m disappointed in what you and now every woman is crying about. So a man makes a rude comment, so a man looks at you inappropriately, so you don’t get a promotion you were promised. Were you violently attacked? No! Walk out! Be lucky you have what you have, keep your mouth shut, and move on.”
I have resisted responding directly to these emails and tweets. I realize that changing the old biases and stereotypes in the culture is a big job. Instead of tearing each other down, we have to find ways to support more enlightened work policies that will benefit all of us.
On a personal level, I know a lot about standing together, because over the last year I have been the recipient of such a wonderful outpouring of support and encouragement. One thing I’ve learned is that it’s always meaningful to reach out. Sometimes people hold back because they’re not sure their words will be welcome. It’s the same thing that often happens when people have a death in the family or are going through a difficult time. They have no idea how much their words mean. Recently, I ran into an acquaintance who said, “I feel bad. When your story happened, I put together all these [Bible] verses for you, and then I just didn’t send them. I don’t know why.” She confessed, “It’s unlike me to not follow through, and I feel that on my heart. I guess I didn’t want to presume you wanted to hear from me.”
I assured her that I’d heard the same thing from others. “People didn’t know what to say to me. But I was by myself, and would have loved to have received them.” So I said, “Send them to me now.” And she did. They were beautiful and meaningful, and I cherish them. The first one she chose was Psalm 37: “Do not fret because of those who are evil, or be envious of those who do wrong, for like the grass they will soon wither… Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.”
We have to act as if we truly believe that anything is possible for women—to refuse to be defeated in achieving our goals.
When I was growing up, people were still saying, “Any young boy can be president.” It was an aspiration encouraged for boys alone. Times have changed, but not as much as we’d like to think. A study by Jennifer L. Lawless of American University and Richard L. Fox of Loyola Marymount University, shows that male college students are twice as likely as women college students to consider running for office one day.
The reality on the ground is stagnant in terms of women’s political presence. For example, women gained no additional seats in the US Congress in the 2016 election. Some of the faces changed, but the numbers in the House and Senate remained unchanged at 104—only about 19 percent.
There are a number of reasons that women don’t run for office in anywhere approaching equal numbers with men. Studies have shown that there’s no ability gap. There isn’t even a credibility gap—women who run are as likely as men to be elected. There are other, more subtle reasons for the stagnation in women’s public presence, including fewer sponsorships and less encouragement for young women to consider political careers. But the primary reason might be that women suffer from a confidence gap—they don’t believe in themselves.
We’re all familiar with the term “imposter syndrome,” which has been around since the 1970s. It is often used to refer to high-achieving women who are plagued by self-doubt. Studies show that women are less likely than men to be self-promotional, to boast about their accomplishments, and to lobby for themselves. There seems to be a direct correlation between that confidence gap and the gap in women running for public office, one of the most self-promotional endeavors there is.
But something broke loose in the 2016 election, and that new resolve and energy were abundantly visible in the Women’s March on January 21, 2017. Many people who witnessed and participated in the march wondered if it would be (like so many other marches) a one-off that didn’t lead to a real movement. But so far, the signs are convincing that the movement is not going away. For example, some groups across the country—such as She Should Run and Run for Something—are seeing a surge in young women planning to run for office since the 2016 election.
We must believe—and teach our daughters—that the highest office in the land, or the highest office in a corporation, is our birthright too. And then decide to be the ones who make that happen.
When W. Brad Johnson and David Smith wrote their book Athena Rising, they chose the goddess Athena as a model that perfectly reflected the character, wisdom, courage, and promise of the female midshipmen they train at the military academy, whom they call “everyday Athenas.” They point out, “It’s not just Athena’s status as a fierce warrior, but other qualities as well, particularly her role as diplomat, mediator and wise counselor.” What defined her as a warrior was more than physical prowess. It was a full range of qualities. Women in the workplace, they propose, shouldn’t just be seen as women, but as rising Athenas. It’s a powerful image.
I have been underestimated all my life. But the single reason I prevailed when others thought I couldn’t was because I never gave up. I just kept going and going. If it meant working harder than everyone else, I did it. If it meant trying things that seemed over my head, I kept striving. Even at my lowest points, my mind was working on my next step.
What inspires me to keep going is the army of women who stand behind me. They tell me, “Thanks to you, I can speak out.” They write, “Your story gives me the courage to do it, too.” It’s exhilarating and also humbling to see how our individual acts can have a vast impact. It’s profound for me to realize that so many of these women say they have experienced a sense of victory through me.
When women are facing their own struggles, it helps to know that life has a way of changing, sometimes overnight, and we have to be ready to seize the opportunities that come to us. It can be difficult, even agonizing, to be the lone woman in a male-dominated environment. Or to listen time and again to people challenging your right to be there, or your right to stand up for yourself.
“I buried it in order to move on,” a woman said to me of her sexual assault. This was a common sentiment. But I want to say to that woman, and others, that we don’t have to bury our pasts in order to be fulfilled in our futures. We can take our failures and our pain, and use them as armor to become more fearless and fierce.
As a young girl, playing the violin competitively, I can remember how my heart was in my throat as I stood on the stage and faced large audiences. There was some fear, of course, but my greatest feelings were of exhilaration and anticipation. Today, my heart is in my throat again, but the notes I am playing are global in reach. And I hope the world is listening. In a New York Times op-ed I wrote in the fall of 2016, I posed the question that is still constantly on my mind: “When I lie awake at night, I ask myself this question: Will our girls finally be the ones to have workplaces, streets, and campuses free from sexual harassment?” That is my prayer and my mission. I believe we can do it if we have the will.
Together, we can stand as warriors and show the world we’re a force that cannot be beaten. We can do this in big ways and small. As Maya Angelou said, “Each time a woman stands up for herself, without knowing it possibly, without claiming it, she stands up for all women.”
We will speak openly, without hesitation and with great strength, and be the women we were meant to be. And in doing so, we will keep this saying in the back of our minds: “The Devil whispered in my ear, ‘You are not strong enough to withstand the storm.’ Today, I whispered in the Devil’s ear, ‘I am the storm.’”
We will Be Fierce.