How vulnerability makes you a better leader Tracy Young
Transcriber: TED Translators Admin
Reviewer: Joanna Pietrulewicz
My parents were refugees of communism.
Growing up, I watched my mom and dad
work two full-time jobs
without ever complaining,
so my siblings and I could live
a better life than they did.
I was proud to be their daughter.
And I understood the immigrant part
of my identity well.
The female part of my identity, however,
was much harder for me to own.
I never wanted
to draw attention to my gender,
because I was afraid I wouldn’t be
taken seriously as a CEO.
So I focused my energy on the things
that I thought were important,
stuff like making my team laugh.
I remember I would painstakingly
write and rehearse jokes
before every all-hands.
Or I’d be the first one in the office
and the last one out,
because I thought
that these things mattered.
When I was six months pregnant,
one of our large competitors reached out,
wanting to talk about acquiring us.
Every startup wants
the option to be bought,
but it really got under my skin
when during conversations
with these strangers
who I was negotiating with,
their eyes would sometimes wander
to my pregnant belly.
I went into labor the same night
of our user conference.
The weeks leading up to the event,
watching our team prepare
for our big product unveiling,
I wondered how many male CEOs
would skip their own conference
for the birth of their child.
I assumed most would.
But I kept reasoning with myself
that if I wasn’t pregnant,
there’d be no question
whether I’d be there or not.
So I have to be there,
forcing myself to parade
my nine-month pregnancy,
work the halls as hosts on my feet
for 14 hours was a bad idea in hindsight.
The moment I arrived home,
my water broke and my contractions started
and I wouldn’t hear
my son’s first cry for another 32 hours.
When my baby was six weeks old,
I went back to work.
Our M and A had fallen through by then,
and I was determined to fundraise
a war chest to fight them back.
But I was still bleeding
from several tears in my vagina
from pushing out a baby.
To this day, I still ask myself
why I rushed back to work
when I wasn’t ready.
And I realize now
it was because I was afraid.
I was so afraid
of what people might think of me
as a new mother and CEO.
I was afraid that they would think
that my priorities had changed.
So I pressured myself
into proving to everyone
that I was as dedicated
to the company as ever.
I would spend the next two months
fundraising to secure our war chest.
I had a full schedule
and I needed to pump milk,
but I didn’t have the courage
to ask for 50 million dollars
and ask to use their mother’s room.
So how does one pump milk
on Sand Hill Road?
Well, I would park my car
in front of someone’s
super nice home in Palo Alto.
I’d undress and extract milk
from my breasts
with a silicone hand pump.
It worked out, I guess.
We secured a lead investor
for our series C
and then our competitors came back
with a revised offer,
and we decided to sell to them
for 875 million dollars.
A few months after the acquisition
I became pregnant for the second time.
And shortly after,
I found out I had a miscarriage.
While with my team …
I felt it slip out of me.
I went to the bathroom …
and it fell to the floor.
I didn’t know what to do,
so I just walked back out to the team,
pretending as if nothing happened.
It took going through
infertility, miscarriage,
pregnancy, giving birth without any drugs,
while running a company
for me to realize how wrong I was
to hide my womanhood
as if it’s something I’m ashamed of.
For so long, I thought I had to be
what I thought a good male CEO looked like
so that I wouldn’t be
judged or treated differently.
I was so constricted by my belief
that businesses value maleness more.
And it made me afraid to be a woman,
which meant I hid a massive part
of who I was from everyone.
When I dared to be fully myself,
when I dared to trust
and share my frustrations
and my anger and my sadness
and my tears with my team,
I became a much happier
and more effective leader
because I was finally honest in who I was.
And my team responded to that.
One of the most important side effects
of leading as my complete raw self
was seeing our culture evolve
to a more close-knit and effective
version of itself.
I remember we had several
back to back rough quarters.
It felt like everything was in shambles
and I didn’t have time
to prepare for an all-hands.
And then it was time for me to speak.
So I walked up to the mic cold
and I started talking openly
about my concerns,
my concerns on competition,
the mistakes we had
made in sales strategy,
really exposing
the weaknesses of our company.
And I asked the team for help.
That completely changed the conversation
and how we would build
and solve problems together.
As we collectively
brought our full selves to work,
we were able to accomplish so much more
in terms of revenue growth
and the most products shipped
the company had seen.
And it progressed us
from a startup to medium-sized business.
Whoever you are, if you’re thinking
about starting a startup,
or you’re thinking about leading,
do it
and don’t be afraid to trust
and be yourself completely.
I wish I knew that a decade ago.
And learn from my mistakes.
If you find yourself fundraising
on Sand Hill, needing to pump milk,
go use their nice-ass mother’s rooms.
Thank you.