Let me admit right now that I was wrong to say no all those years. I was also wrong not to extend more invitations myself.
Anyway, I said yes when my friend Kelsey Taylor asked me to speak to a group of young women for an organization called Girl Talk.
Kelsey, her friend (now mine) Sonya Cooke and some other outstanding women founded the organization hoping to give young girls a place where they could ask the questions Kelsey and Sonya (and I and probably you, if you're a woman) had when you were younger but didn't know who or how to ask. It's a great idea, and they've put countless hours into it. If you want to support it, go to the site. If you know a girl 9-16 in Indianapolis, you might want to check it out.
Girl Talk introduces girls to all kinds of important things, ranging from being confident in their bodies to learning how government works. Kelsey came to me for someone to talk the girls about how to speak with confidence.
I'd coached Kelsey for her first TV interview, which has led to a series of others, mostly because Kelsey is a kick-ass woman who didn't really need any help to showcase her strength, elegance, intellect and spirit.
I love Kelsey and I loved the idea of Girl Talk, so I said, yes. It was months away, and I quickly forgot about it. She reminded me of it a month or so ago and I was talking about it to my Book Club. I'd committed to a series of three Saturdays -- 2 hours -- in a row.
I like my Saturdays to be lazy! What did I have to say to these girls? They weren't going to staring down a TV camera or a reporter with a tape recorder. They had elementary and middle school problems. What in the world was I thinking.?
My Book Club agreed wholeheartedly. Sure it was a nice idea, but geeze. What would I say? What was I thinking?
We talked about it a while and, because they're awesome, most of my Book Club friends said they'd help me out for one of the days. We'd have a panel discussion and the girls could see an array of success women talking about how confident speaking was key to their professional lives.
Girl Talk came up at Book Club last week. I was fretting about it as the first session was the next day. The class didn't have many girls enrolled. I was back to being certain they'd hate me and I had nothing relevant to say. My volunteers were thinking not only was I crazy, they'd committed to it, too.
"On a Saturday!" lamented one of them.
"Wait, how long?" another said, sounding as panicked as I felt.
"It's going to be terrible," I moaned.
"Way to sell it," came the response.
"I'll let you know how the first one goes," I said, glumly, glad Book Club comes with wine.
Fast forward to the Crooked Creek Community Center and my first Girl Talk talk. It was a small gathering and we were sitting around a table waiting for the last girl to arrive and to see if there would be some who hadn't RSVP'd.
I'd been chatting with a couple of the early arrivals, waiting to introduce myself to the group once we'd gathered. I was getting their names, ages and spellings just to pass the time.
As I struggled to hear Areonna's voice, one of the later arrivals looked over at me and said, "So who are you?"
Her friend smacked and admonished her, but I laughed. It was a good question and I said so.
So we talked a while and the girls were awesome. They want to be a teacher, lawyer, doctor, dancer, business owner and a sports journalist/president of the whole world or Queen of Wakanda.
Justice, a tiny thing, spoke at a volume about two clicks below a whisper. Alayla was eager to respond and always spot on with an answer.
Jada, the girl who'd asked who I was, was a comedian, full of spirit and eager to entertain. Lyric, was initially shy but brave enough later to point out my mistake when I misidentified one of the girls.
I had them introduce themselves like I had done and then we talked about their common tendencies to speak so quietly they couldn't be heard, to stare at the table while they talked or to be hesitate to share. They laughed when I demonstrated their techniques and didn't take offense as I'd feared.
I'm not saying it was a great talk, but we had some laughs, and I think they understood some of what I'd tried to convey. I was talking about making eye contact when Jada threw up her hands and said she didn't understand why she had to stare into someone's eyes. "Can't you just look at their forehead or something?" she said.
"Yes!" I said, "That's exactly the trick!"
We devolved for a while talking about how creepy it could get if, when you had a conversation, you stared directly into someone's eyes without ever looking away. I asked them how many of them texted or Snapchatted with their friends.
Justice looked at me, amazed. "How do you know about Snapchat?" she asked, not intending to be funny, but of course it cracked me up. I defended myself and then talked about Alison, who is old enough now that I didn't have a good handle on the shows and pop culture they were into. I don't Snapchat, but I know it exists.
As we grew to a close, I asked the girls if they thought they'd learned enough or if they wanted to gather again next week when I would have some friends with me. They were unanimous in wanting to do it again. Jada, though, had a suggestion.
"I don't know about the rest of you, but my booty gets tired and I think maybe we should maybe get up and move around more next time," she said.
"That's exactly the plan," I said.
The future sports journalist/president of the whole world, Queen of Wakanda, or whatever else she decides to be, nodded her approval and then went into a long discussion about how her teacher understands her booty's need to move around a bit during the day. I'm pretty sure Jada's not going to have any trouble communicating in the future. Like Kelsey, she has little need of me.
Like every time I regretted saying yes in the past few months, I was glad I had followed through. I'm betting my Book Club girls will have the same reaction.
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