This Meeting is Now in Session
Our top agenda item for the day: a personal board of directors
A few years ago, there was an explosion of nonfiction books about friendship.
It’s a genre of books that responds to the (probably Western) cultural notion that there is a tier level to relationships in your life. This notion says that romantic partnerships are the top tier, the be-all and end-all. It says that your romantic partner should be the one who fulfills the majority, if not all, of your needs. The next tier is generally seen as family. With family, the idea is that no matter what, you must maintain those relationships, regardless of whether or not they are good relationships for you. Then, finally, there is the friendship tier. In the cultural zeitgeist, it is a tier that relies on ease and simplicity—which says that once friends, you should be friends forever and that it shouldn’t be work to maintain a friendship. Since it’s a relationship on a lower tier, it must be easy to maintain because it’s not that important anyway.
The books released in this genre most often fight against this tier notion, specifically exploring how and why friendships are important relationships that need to be worked at and nurtured just like romantic relationships are. Some books used the personal relationships of the author(s) to explore their viewpoint, some worked through the aforementioned cultural notions of friendships, some were about conflict resolution, some were about how to handle the dissolution of important friendships—the lists of subtopics goes on. It’s a genre that has existed for much longer than the late 2010s/early 2020s explosion would have you believe. And a genre that will continue to exist at least as long as friendships exist.
A decent amount of these books came through my reading pile—Big Friendship: How We Keep Each Other Close by Aminatou Sow & Ann Friedman and Text Me When You Get Home: The Evolution and Triumph of Modern Female Friendship by Kayleen Schaefer being two of them1. While I remember enjoying these books, they also fell a bit flat for me. They said a lot of what I’d already been saying for years and outlined philosophies that I had already adhering to. Admittedly, I was not necessarily the audience for these books although…I did feel reassured by their presence.
I’m a firm believer that everyone is their own person. Just because you’re in a relationship, doesn’t mean you have to become a singular morphed together entity. I think various needs in your life are fulfilled by certain relationships and that all those needs should not be expected to be fulfilled by only one person. I also think not every relationship is forever—there is a season (turn turn turn)—and that the endings of friendships require grieving just as the ending of romantic partnerships and/or familial ties. Afterall, when a relationship ends through whatever means, there is a loss. We give and hold knowledge of each other and the ending of a relationship means the ending of access to that knowledge. I don’t remember every little thing I’ve done or I can’t tell you what I was like however many years ago. But someone else can. And I think we forget when relationships end, including friendships, we lose a part of ourselves. Good, bad, ugly, doesn’t matter. That knowledge dissipates into the ether.
My thoughts on friendship don’t feel particularly radical to me but that’s probably because I live in my head and my life all the time. There are occasional reminders that not everyone thinks this way. When I was in middle school, I had a youth pastor ask me if my parents were divorced because I talked about them as separate people and not only as a couple. A reminder. Nonfiction books on friendships are also working to dispel the ingrained ideas about which relationships are more valuable than others. That’s important. I, obviously, think it’s important to continue to expand our ideas of what friendship can look like.
I have a really nice, solid circle of friends. As I’ve been working to build my creative consultant business, I’ve been reminded of that. Nothing like trying something risky, something that you’ve never attempted before to remind you just how little you know about things. Not knowing—particularly in terms of something related to your livelihood—is an overwhelming thing to contend with. But I have good news! Other people do know about things I don’t know about. That goes for you too. Other people know about things you don’t and it’s likely they are already in your orbit. It’s through this business process that I’ve come to view my circle of close friends in a little different light. I now consider them my Personal Board of Directors™.
*This meeting is now in session.*
As someone who gives a lot of side eye to the spider web of big business we are caught in, who makes not unsubtle jabs of the relentless buy/sell and profit/loss that surrounds us, a lot of side eyes to the capitalism of it all, it does feel a little funny to use a business staple as a metaphor for the close relationships in my life. To that I’ll say two things (mostly to myself), 1) it’s cool girrrrrrlllll. you change the viewpoint of that word! and b) it really is a good descriptor of my people.
A board of directors is usually composed of people outside the business itself, people who come from different backgrounds, who work in different sectors and have different skills, who are a connector to additional networks of people. (Usually, there’s a certain level of wealth involved too.) The idea is that they are council, they have insights and advice gleaned from different life experiences and different perspectives. Now, that’s not it always works in reality. There are plenty of other reasons why people join a board of directors. I’ve never worked at a Fortune 500 company but I do read the news so I know it’s not always (not often) daisies and sunshine. But, in my own life, it’s unlikely that my personal board of directors will try and oust me because I gave myself bonuses amounting to multi-billions of dollars. Or whatever. Some other ‘vague’ example.
Or maybe they will, I don’t know. If I operate like some of these C-Suite executives do, maybe they should oust me from my own life. I mean, they know things I don’t know. Who am I to turn my nose up at their knowledge? But that’s neither here nor there.
Mostly, I’ve started calling my close circle my Personal Board of Directors™ because it’s a good reminder for me that I’m really lucky. I’m lucky to have a bunch of people in my life with different backgrounds, skills, and insights than me. I may not be able to talk about running a small business with everyone in the circle but I know I have a few people whomst I can talk to. Or, I know not every person wants to listen to me complain, once again, about how it’s too warm in my apartment because it’s 55° outside and my radiator is still on. But some still will. (Hopefully.)
Not everyone works in theatre or pursues creative stuff as a career. Not everyone lives in New York. Not everyone grew up or has lived in all the same places. Not everyone is partnered. Some have children, others don’t. Some have even more crafting supplies than I have. Some read a million books and always have recommendations. Some (most) are good company for a drink. Introverts. Extroverts. Witty and Smart (that’s all of them). Those who love things out loud and those who do so more quietly. Those who ask more questions than give answers and those who have more answers. People with similar trials and tribulations. Others with the complete opposite trials and tribulations. I could go on but I’m sure you get the idea. I’ll spare you the rest.
…one more. At least one who I have to talk out of a revenge plot every time I relay a story of how someone has been inconsiderate of me, mean to me, has looked at me the wrong way. Okay, probably more than one.
There seems to be a lot of conversation these days about empathy. There are public questions about whether it is good or not (it’s good) and whether there is a right kind of empathy and a wrong kind (excuse me, what?). The core of this discussion baffles me. Not because I don’t know where it comes from but because I find it heartbreakingly sad. It’s a pointless attempt to make everyone the same. We aren’t…duh. Empathy helps us explore the differences, gives us context for lives that don’t look like our own, offers us connection at a very base level. And, to me, a Personal Board of Directors™ is a great place to start developing and/or expanding empathy. Really, any of the relationships in your life is a great place to start, a great place to continue, a great place to expand.
This is (one of the reasons) why I consider my friendships just as important as any other relationships in my life. They are all their own wonderful humans. They all teach me something different. They all support me in different ways. A house is more stable, will be able to withstand the elements, and will last a lot longer with the right and varied kinds of support. (No, YOU’RE watching home reno shows on repeat.) I work as hard on my friendships as any other relationships because I want to offer the same to my people.
That is my bottom line.
*Meeting adjourned.*
Sometimes, my Personal Board of Directors™ needs a quick lie down. Just a real quick one.
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