I Am A Forbes 30 Under 30 — I Now Think It’s Absurd.

Eight years ago today I made the Forbes 30 Under 30 list in law and policy. An honor, of course, and one that is continually used in my bios and intros today. Without this honor it is unlikely I would have gotten where I did, that Atlas would have gotten where it did, and it’s almost certain that folks would take me less seriously as I tend to come across as not as serious as one might expect (hint: joy is a part of the revolution). Because of this honor I was profiled various times in Forbes, was able to talk about the Martyr Mentality in Nonprofit salaries, Atlas received more funding, and I used the platform to speak publicly about living with a mental health diagnosis. I will forever and always be grateful that I “made it” when the list was in its second year and I was still “young enough” to receive it.

And yet, I hope you all know that these lists, like so many of these other awards, are complete and utter nonsense. That’s not to knock the incredible people who “get” this honor, they ARE doing wonderful things, or have raised a lot of money, or have given amazing performances, or have done whatever else it is that their category prizes. What is ridiculous, however, is that these are THE THIRTY folks who “deserve” this honor or that a definition of your worth depends on how fast and furious you can do things when you are still very young.

To the first point, The Forbes 30 Under 30 list, like so much else in this world, is complete and utter insider baseball. The judges often knew the candidates before judging begins. The only way to really get in front of a judge’s eyes are to be nominated by someone who has been on the list (and deemed one of the fancy people at that), and, of course, the judges often represent the elite circles and worlds that are unattainable to most folks. Admittedly, I feel like I COULD have been one of the fancy ones if I just played more by their rules instead of ruffling feathers, as I am want to do. Back when I still lived in NY the distinction of being on the list got me invited to so many parties filled with so many “EPIC” people where I was asked to say a few words but just couldn’t keep my mouth shut. After I was introduced as someone who “saved little girls from sex trafficking” (not what I did, not the language I would ever use) one too many times, I admittedly would lose it and call out the folks in their wide-brimmed hats or Buddha beads and, ok, often drink copiously from the free-flowing alcohol which absolutely didn’t help matters. Part of my reason of leaving NY was to get away from this culture, these people, who call for authenticity without speaking the truth of the situation, that we are chosen not because of our work but because of our connections, and that all we were doing was continuing an elitest charade of bread and circuses.

Secondly, the problem with these lists is that it encourages the type of thinking that leads to extreme burnout, waste of resources, and self and community destruction. It is absurd that now, at 36 (almost 37!) society makes me feel that I am past my prime and past my time. Being a child of the 80’s and a child of the era of Forbes 30 Under 30 that I so relish external validation that it has become like a drug whose addictions I am still trying to shake off. While conscious about no longer seeking New York Times articles and list awards, I still feel as if, without them, I am not “doing” enough, that my work isn’t worthy enough, that I MYSELF am not enough. It’s the worst parts of our social media filled society (she says, conscious of typing the words while also hoping folks like this post — sigh) with a dose of ageism to boot.

Wow — longer post than I imagined so clearly I had something to say! I will leave you with this poem from Rupi Kaur — goddess of my mind these days.

they convinced me

i only had a few good years left

before i was replaced by a girl younger than me

as though men yield power with age

but women grow into irrelevance

they can keep their lies

for i have just gotten started

i feel as though i just left the womb

my twenties are the warm-up

for what i’m really about to do

wait till you see me in my thirties

now that will be a proper introduction

to the nasty. wild. woman in me.

how can i leave before the party’s started

rehearsals begin at forty

i ripen with age

i do not come with an expiration date

and now

for the main event

curtains up at fifty

let’s begin the show

― Rupi Kaur