As we ended 2016, a 29-year old woman went to work and had a really bad night. A lot of people have bad shifts, but I’m willing to bet she was probably the only one that night who did it in front of more than 18,500 people with millions more watching live at home or bars. Traditional and social media covered it within minutes showing pictures and videos of her beaten face, describing her 48-second destruction and calling for her immediate retirement. Articles noted her previous suicide attempt and hoped that she would pull through the devastating loss.
I’m not a fan of mixed martial arts, but at the time my heart went out to Ronda Rousey.
At the time I started and abandoned a blog post. For more than a month she was silent in social media as everyone sat on the sidelines of her life and speculated about her next steps. Tonight I sat down to write and thought, hmmm, I wonder whether she has found her way out yet? A quick Google search revealed that just yesterday she emerged with a single quote on her Instagram account.
I hope the post means that she’s finding a way to pull herself back up, to recognize that her worth as a human being will not be defined by a single night. I hope so.
Our culture is framed in a ridiculous binary where the people either win and get everything or lose and have nothing. I cringe every time I hear phrases like “second place is first loser” or “to the victor go the spoils” because they reinforce the idea that if you can’t win you shouldn’t play. It’s like every dystopian novel, filled with triumphant winners and cringing losers.
That’s a load of crap.
It’s not that I’m against winning. Everyone who knows me knows that I am a feisty competitor and I like a medal or an “A” as much as the next guy. It’s just that I haven’t learned a damn thing about living from my wins. Every single worthwhile story in my life is built around a loss. The time when I fell just yards from the line at states. The time when I swung for the fences applying to graduate school and got rejected. The time when I tried to do a no-win job and failed. Losing has helped me recognize the value of a life well-lived, relish my diversity of experiences and create a community of support. Winning I was a cocky entitled pain in the ass. Losing taught me grace.
We don’t celebrate failure (or more importantly the growth that comes from failure) often enough. Look, I get it. Success is sexy and failure is messy. Failure requires a good hard look inside yourself to ask painful questions. Did I try as hard as I could? Was I as prepared as I could have been? Was I in over my head? Who did I harm? Can I try again? Should I?
Some days I think it’s easier to just win, but easier isn’t better.
So, I’m pulling for Ms. Rousey. I hope that she’s finding a way to look inside herself and find a woman that she respects and loves. I hope she recognizes that whether she continues to fight or never steps into the arena again she has value and can contribute to the world. Sure, I’m an out of shape middle-aged desk jockey, but if I could I would sit down with her and assure her that nothing about her life is predetermined at 29. I would look into her eyes, thankful to be sitting with her and not the winner, and I would ask her one question.
What did you learn?