Why FEARLESScomms, why now
A few years ago now, I was waiting to hear about a job. I was deep into the interview process with the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco, and I’d made it to the reference check.
I was at my desk when my phone rang—one of my mentors, Lynn Lunsford. A veteran of the Wall Street Journal and one of the best writers I’ve ever met, he had taken me under his wing during my time at the Federal Aviation Administration. He’d received a call from my potential new employer and wanted to debrief.
“Here’s the main thing I told them,” he said in his Texas drawl. “You’re fearless, and they’d be lucky to get you.”
Lynn (center) and me (right) after a major speech with FAA Administrator Michael P. Huerta (left).
Fearless was not a word I would have used to describe myself at the time. Like a lot of other young women, I spent most of my time questioning myself. I doubted my expertise. I didn’t speak up. I worried about being too loud, too certain—about asking for too much.
But here was Lynn, a man I respected, who had not only broken me of my habit of putting two spaces after the end of a sentence, but who had invested his time in helping me find confidence in my writing craft. He believed in me. He thought I was fearless.
The word took root. It rolled around in my head, the edges worn smooth as I tested out the sound, the feeling. So by the time I got the job he’d recommended me for… by the time I packed up my life and moved across the country to a city where I was a stranger… by the time I walked into the San Francisco Fed as the new head of executive communications… I wasn’t the same person I thought I was before.
I finally felt like the person Lynn saw. I was fearless.
I started trusting my instincts. I fought for honest, vulnerable communication. I stood up for what I thought was right and didn’t hesitate to voice the dissenting opinion in a room full of agreement. I was someone who said the thing and encouraged others to do the same.
And here’s what surprised me most.
My fearlessness was contagious. I saw the executives I worked with deliver truly gutsy speeches on lightning rod issues. Others stepped outside of their comfort zones with bold leadership statements. Colleagues began coming to me to talk through their own insecurities and doubts—and I was able to do for them what Lynn did for me.
The experience was meaningful. And it made me start thinking about my own leadership journey. Where could I make the biggest impact? How could I contribute most? And after a year of living through COVID-19 and a national reckoning on racism and inequity, the answer became clear.
“We find ourselves at a once-in-a-generation moment of possibility.”
The past year upended the lives we knew before. Lasting, systemic change is within reach—and the need for brave, visionary leadership is greater than ever before.
So now I find myself making my most daring move yet. I quit my stable job, at the tail end of a global pandemic, to build something new—something for myself and for the values I hold most dear. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. But being fearless isn’t about being without fears—it’s about acknowledging them, taking a breath, and leaping anyway.