Another Girlboss Down
Mass Redundancies, Emma Grede & The Great Millennial Redirection
I’ve always been ambitious. In my high school leaver’s book, a very mean, bulldog-face boy wrote, “I hope you make something of yourself. You’re always going on about making something of yourself”. His note of confidence came after five years of relentless bullying, after which I stood up, slammed my fist on my desk and yelled, “I just want to get my GCSEs and get out of this fucking school!” I had been pelted with wet paper towels and the science teacher was crying amongst the Bunsen burners in the equipment cupboard. Both of us, left broken by teenage boys, telepathically agreed that life had to get better than this. And for the most part, it did.
That was twenty years ago. And as per his instruction, I’ve spent two decades tirelessly making something of myself. I met many more mean bulldog-face men and women during this time, who only fuelled my ambition further. I found my career stride in magazine journalism in the late 2010s, when Sophia Amoruso first coined the term ‘Girlboss’, and many of us baby feminists were “grinding” for little pay and posting quotes on Instagram like “Productivity powered by caffeine and chaos.” I say this with absolutely no condescension: the grafting girlboss era would not prepare me, and all my ambitious homegirls, for the millennial career crisis of the 2020s.
I found out I would be losing my job in a villa on a private island in the Maldives last year. I already suspected that my life had peaked when I confirmed the press trip a few months earlier. I wasn’t supposed to be checking my email on a trip of a lifetime, but I spotted an official-looking subject line; to summarise, a redundancy — one that would take mine and many of my colleagues’ jobs in one fell swoop. It wasn’t too surprising. I knew redundancy would come knocking at my door one of these days. During a hot August somewhere in the Indian Ocean, was my day.
I didn’t expect to feel my ambition leave my body like a poltergeist.
The inevitability of a redundancy doesn’t lessen its impact. I convinced myself that I wouldn’t take too much time to mourn. I would launch! Rebuild! Strategise! Stunt on them! I became cartoonishly vengeful, motivated by the fantasy of a huge career comeback, one with big financial contracts and Oprah interviews. But redundancy after the job that was the making of you, I found, is much more difficult to move on from. Depending on how connected you were to your role, it can feel like a fresh, deep wound. And I was very connected to my job.
My ambition died. Another Girlboss down. I wanted no parts in the industry that broke my heart. I treated it like I treated any ex. I cold-turkeyed my industry. I rebuked all the hot takes. I muted and blocked my peers. I retreated into myself.
I received many messages following my redundancy announcement. Writers I worked with cited me in articles about the mass redundancies plaguing our industry, and PRs invited me to their events to keep me visible in an industry that relies heavily on visibility (but doesn’t always like to admit it). Launch! Rebuild! Strategise! I didn’t expect to feel my ambition leave my body like a poltergeist. Inertia set in instead, and my ambition lay dormant for a few months. I became an insufferable runner-type (still am) and read and bought so many books that my back became hunched and resembled an old crone. Desperately, I wanted to return to the straight-backed pride of my now former career. But I didn’t quite know how.
To say that LinkedIn hasn’t helped (sorry) is an understatement. Initially, I felt comforted by the collective grief of the worldwide-laid-off journalist community. I scroll through statement after statement of extremely talented journalists, editors and creators waving goodbye to their roles and announcing their freelance careers or sabbaticals. There are the guilty platitudes made by former colleagues in the comments, all offering the same shred of hope: “I can’t wait to see what you do next!x” Because something has to come next.
This is admittedly girlboss-coded, and the media has long declared that “girl” dead. I am not sure about dusting off the 2010s hustle culture and “you go girl!” feminism is the answer either. My ambition doesn’t need to glow with pink neon signs on Instagram; it just needs to get me to work.
The hard and blatant truth is that the UK job market is in tatters, record-breakingly so. Within the media industry, where I’ve spent the last 18 years working, the past 18 months have been unprecedented and scary. The number of Black women journalists across the US and in the UK (many of whom I’ve worked alongside) who are also experiencing layoffs right now offers me no comfort. These past six months, I’ve asked what is the use of ambition when the odds seem stacked against you? How ambitious can you be when it seems no one is hiring, entire industries are being dismantled, and every other day, we’re told that near-sentient robots can do our jobs much more efficiently? What is the use of ambition in this current system that isn’t working for anyone except the 1 per cent?
Enter Emma Grede. You think I’m kidding! Over the last few weeks, I’ve written about the British business mogul and entrepreneur’s new book Start With Yourself and her controversial “new methods for work” (you can read my full review in Sainted magazine below). I met the LA-based entrepreneur twice during her London book tour and clinked champagne glasses with other Black businesswomen who told me her message of self-actualisation and taking responsibility for your career outcomes (despite the state of the world and job market) was the truth for success. I’ve both critiqued Grede’s message and absorbed it.
For the vision of my life, I fear I need to awaken a dormant capitalist monster within myself to survive in a capitalist system that remains firmly pressed on mine and everyone else’s neck. I am not a capitalist. But I am a realist. This is admittedly girlboss-coded, and the media has long declared that “girl” dead. I am not sure whether dusting off the 2010s hustle culture and “you go girl!” feminism is the answer, either. My ambition doesn’t need to glow with pink neon signs on Instagram; it just needs to get me to work.
You may have heard the saying that “rejection leads to redirection”. I have spoken to so many women in their 30s and 40s in the uncomfortable space of redirection right now — by choice or otherwise. And optimistically, I think this era of uncertainty will present us with new opportunities and ideas for our lives. I don’t know what this means for the future of work. But I do know there are many formerly ambitious women who have been through it and are rethinking their entire approach to career, ambition, and life. Many have realised they don’t have to pursue anything. And that is freedom. The Great Millennial Career Redirection is now.
Reconnecting with your ambition means accepting that you still want the big dream. It can be difficult to do because redundancy doesn’t exactly affirm that you’re actually capable — it says quite the opposite. As I’ve fought to regain my ambition, I’ve been saying the big dream out loud. Instead of saying, ‘I want to present again,’ I affirm that I am a presenter. I am a journalist and editor — a bloody good one, at that. I have already achieved the big dream. It didn’t leave me. It was always there. That may be too spiritual and manifestation leaning for some, but there is a science to affirmations that I believe works to rewire your brain and sense of self.
Ambition cannot exist without a well-defined purpose and vision. It just can’t. My own vision for my career is coming into focus, unblurring, revealing motivation for something bigger. This newsletter is part of it. Now, I can read the note from the mean, bulldog-face boy in 2005 and agree, “I hope you make something of yourself. You’re always going on about making something of yourself”. I sure am.
Thank you for reading! Your support means a lot. If you made it this far, I would love to gift two readers a copy of Emma Grede’s Start With Yourself. Please leave me a comment, and I’ll reach out.
I'm in this luminal space too. Between an old ambitious self and the yet to be seen new self. Now that the sabbatical is over, thoughtfully aligning with what I want to spend my near future doing.
I saw your Instagram post and reinstalled Substack just to read this post. As someone whose ambition once revolved around climbing the corporate ladder, only to walk away from it years later, your words really resonated. Love who you described the idea of ambition leaving your body “like a poltergeist” - that particularly hit home. Thank you for putting words to something I’ve struggled to articulate myself. Great writing, I’ve subscribed!