I held a workshop recently and asked my participants to journal what they (on average) wake up thinking about on any given workday. As one might imagine, these things surfaced:

• What do my kids need?
• What is my work schedule today?
• How many meetings do I have?
• What conversations do I need to engage?
• What location do I need to drive?
• What should I wear?

The questions above are the top of mind things that most are comfortable admitting. I also know that some of the participants were thinking about these things:

• Will my body cooperate today?
• Will I be liked?
• Will I be accepted?
• Will I be enough?

I also know that others wake up thinking all the things above PLUS they have added stress that many adults will never experience. Things like:

• Will I be believed?
• Will I be safe?
• Will my child be bullied?
• Will the color of my skin be a barrier for me today?
• Will I have enough money to buy gas?
• Will I have enough money to eat?
• Will I have a bed to sleep in tonight?

I can argue that what we wake up thinking about is an indication of our status, privilege, or standing in life. To know I have food, clothing, a bed, transportation, and resources makes me profoundly grateful.

Like everyone, there have been times in my life that I woke up with tears because I was grieving a loss, worried about another, or suffering because of conflict. I have certainly had those restless nights where I worry about finances, a child’s well-being, or significant decisions. However, I can say that on average, I do not wake up with major crisis on my mind. Instead, I wake up thinking about the tactical aspects of my day. And yet, as I work, write, interact, research, and live in this world, I am becoming more and more socially aware of what I do not experience.

It is an unspoken privilege to wake up and not immediately think about the color of my skin. Many of my African American friends and colleagues cannot say the same thing. I also did not realize until recently what a gift it is to wake up and not worry if I would be called a liar. Lots of women cannot say the same thing. I pray my daughter will never have to experience this.

The more aware we are of our gifts, opportunities, and privileges, it allows us to leverage our gratitude with those who need to be believed, supported, defended, cared for, and when possible invited in to share the blessings we wake up to every day.

​What do you wake up thinking about?

I have a little notebook that goes with me everywhere. It is small enough to fit in my purse and when I hear someone say something funny, or I need to make a note of something significant, I’ll pull it out. The journal is far from sequential, and I’ve written passages in the middle, margins, back, and on the side in every color ink and pencil. It represents different days and events of my life like a fuzzy, out-of-focus, Polaroid camera. The other day I sat down and read it from cover to cover and one particular day stayed with me.

March 5, 2016, was the day I started interviewing silenced female leaders for my dissertation. Fast forward to today, I now have data on 65 women. However, this cold March day from two and a half years ago was my first official recorded interview that was later transcribed and analyzed for hours.
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These notes were captured in my car as I sat there reflecting after the 90-minute interview. They are private reflections that now represent something more significant. In no particular order:

• Always start with full batteries - I know I was referencing my hand-held recorder, but I cannot help but note the significance of having a fully charged body, heart, and mind when engaging in meaningful work.
• Empathy hurts - felt throat tighten in interview – lump in throat. Wanted to connect, touch, express and my eyes may have given my pain away. I believe that empathy is one of the greatest gifts. For those who share this particular strength, we know the sorrow it can inflict. I will not trade my ability to empathize, but sometimes I have to put it squarely in its place as empathy can cause a great deal of pain.
• It’s okay to sit in silence - this is something that used to cause me so much discomfort, and I would immediately speak to fill the void. I have learned over time that my uneasiness with silence is a form of selfishness. Sometimes we need to sit quietly until someone else is ready to speak. Silence is a gift for someone who is processing what they need to say.
• It is an honor to witness someone’s story - when I wrote this I had just interviewed an executive female with an intense history of feeling silenced. She had never told her story in totality to another person. Often people need a witness to their life and solving or analyzing is not required.
• Voice can emerge with space - I gave space for something to surface; for voice to arise; for healing to lift its eyes even with its head still bowed. There is a view beyond the pain. Voice is never the opposite of silence, and you cannot always flip it on like a light switch. We may speak and utter sound but do not mistake that for having a voice, which takes longer to surface.

There was more written. I was wrestling with varying degrees of thoughts and emotions as I surfaced from the first, and entered into the journey of many, research interviews. Words like beauty, sadness, sacred, privilege, validation, comfort and allowance all hold unique and special meaning as I reflect. After that first interview, I made a change to my protocol and began asking: How does it feel to participate in this interview and answer questions about voice and silence?

That one small question, a slight shift to end the interview, one last chance to gather any last-minute participant thoughts or ideas created the highest level of learning and research finds. We never know how one small question, insignificant as it may be, can be the very thing that unlocks something powerful. As a social scientist and leadership coach, I continue to sit in wonder of the power of a simple question.

What simple question do you need to ask?