Identity + Entrepreneurship
“AHH!” my classmates screamed in dismay. Their eyes widened looking at the grotesque mutant in front of them.
“What is that… creature?” Mrs. Kinsman asked me, a look of disgust on her face.
The instructions were simple: draw a picture of what you wanted to be when you grew up. While my art skills were not the best, seven-year-old me never expected this type of reaction. The mashup of the superhero, scientist, teacher, ballerina, and mechanic that appeared before my classmates seemed to perplex the room.
“Mrs. Kinsman,” I stuttered. “I couldn’t choose just one.”
As a child, I was often indecisive. I would wake up one day convinced I was a young Einstein – using a lighter and my mother’s favorite Tresemmé hairspray to create a “cosmic explosion.” The day after that, I would spend hours sifting through my sister’s beloved nail polish cabinet looking for the perfect shade of hot pink to match my mustard-colored bedroom walls, convinced I was the next Da Vinci. Despite my changing (and sometimes destructive) passions, I was always encouraged to let my versatility shine.
In high school, however, the words “creative” and “unique” were replaced with “directionless” and “experimental.” Dinner parties were filled with awkward conversations of me explaining how I didn’t particularly enjoy politics, math, science, reading, or law but all of them … and none of them at the same time. Every time I found a “calling,” I quickly became immersed in it—until I found a new one. While everyone assumed I would eventually outgrow my fickle mindset, this childish whimsy is a way of experiencing the world I don’t want to outgrow.
One summer, I became a marketing maven. After seeing over ten new non-profits start in my community, I too wanted to make a positive impact. However, being an idealist, I wanted to help every organization I could. While my salary at Starbucks made this financially unfeasible, I decided to contribute in a different way. I spent the next month of my life teaching myself how to code so I could create websites and marketing material for these charities.
The following fall, I became a technician. While washing my clothes, my ten-year-old washing machine broke down, leaving soapy water all over my floor. Determined to fix the mess, I spent two hours poring over DIY articles on how to use electrical tape and a screwdriver to fix the broken belt-driven pump – and surprisingly I loved it. After this, I started messing with almost all my home appliances trying to make them faster and more efficient. To this day, my parents still don’t know about my quick fixes.
The next spring, I became a teacher. My swim team was suffering from low morale, and I needed to boost it. However, the only thing my team seemed to agree on was our love of ugly, porous Crocs shoes. So I did what any design-obsessed swim captain would do: I took my team to our school’s 3D printer to teach them to make Wildcat (our school mascot) Jibbitz shoe charms to adorn our Crocs. Weirdly enough, we bonded over the simple pleasure of tinkering, and our improved swimming performance seemed like a bonus.
It’s evident that I’ve become the conglomerate, messy creature from my childhood drawing. My indecisiveness has driven me in all sorts of crazy directions. However, this hodgepodge of passions is united by the creative problem-solving each one requires. From this new perspective, I realized that the grotesque monster had a name: an entrepreneur. Entrepreneurship allows me to take on a slew of roles while solving real-world problems. And while the seemingly terrifying monster that is entrepreneurship may seem like an erratic mess to most people… it’s my mess. My beautiful mess.