It’s Not Bragging if it’s True

“It’s not bragging if it’s true,” my dad used to say when I would hesitate to tell my family or friends about a writing award I’d won or a play performance that had gone particularly well. 

 I still tiptoe around sharing my achievements, wondering if it’s not only bragging, but maybe somewhat juvenile to share my successes. After all, I’m not a kid running home to see if my mom can post my art on the fridge anymore. 

Still, a recent connection with one of my dearest friends reminded me that sharing about our proudest moments isn’t just a way to receive pats on the back. It’s a way to connect, to grow relationships, and even to invite others to share their magical spark.

Recently, I was walking with my close friend Holly whom I’ve known since we were undergraduate roommates at CU in 1999. I asked her how her professional life was going, and she mentioned she was working with Cody, her husband, in his web design and marketing business, Upward Spiral Group. She talked about using her artist and architectural background to help him design sites for companies she really cared about.

“That’s amazing!” I said. “I bet you’re so great at that!” 

But something else popped into my mind, too. Before that day, I’d told Holly briefly about the work I did with Norma to bring racial justice into the classroom. But I hadn’t gone into a lot of detail. I didn’t want to brag, but it was more than that. Talking about our work can sometimes feel like a “woke” brag. As much as I’ve always had an aversion to bragging, I’ve developed an even stronger distaste for “white-lady woke bragging.” I definitely didn’t want to show up like that. 

At that point, Norma and I had a website, but it was one I’d hastily put together using a prebuilt program and stock photography. Would Holly be interested in helping us grow our website? Would that be too much to ask? We couldn’t pay her of course. Would she feel obligated to say ‘yes.’ I hesitated, but another of my dad’s adages popped into my head. “All they can do is say no.”

“You know my friend Norma?” I said. “The racial-justice poet I work with who comes to my classroom?” Holly nodded. “Well, we have this website. It’s really bad. I made it, but it’s pretty awful. I don’t know if you’d ever want to, but…” I trailed off, hoping she’d fill in the gaps. “We have no money,” I added. “We couldn’t really pay you.”

She paused for a moment. Holly always had a knack for consideration. Where I seem to live by the motto, “Say yes now, and deal with the regrets later,” she takes her time before committing. 

“I’d love to,” she said, her smile broadening.

“And, it’s okay that we can’t pay you?” I added.

 “Absolutely! This sounds like an amazing local organization with an important purpose that we can get behind. We’re happy to do the work pro-bono to support this important work in our community.”

“Really? Oh my gosh that’s amazing! Thank you!” My heart was full of gratitude. “And there’s no rush, really.”

Over the next few months, we worked together to build our site. Norma and I provided Holly with written content, and we also met to talk about our work.

“It’s easier to understand what we do when we talk about our work together,” I said.

We met over Zoom the first time, and Norma and I shared our origin story. We bantered back and forth, playing off each other as we always do, and I could tell Holly was moved by our work. She listened closely and even asked questions that pushed us to frame our work in ways we hadn’t before.

“If you were going to tell me what you do in a 30-second elevator speech, what would it be?” 

This question has always been a hard one for us. What do we actually do?

We shared that we are about the power of story and partnership as pathways to realize racial justice. But we knew we needed to refine our message. We knew Holly had asked us a question we had to get to the heart of. 

Later, Holly expressed how magical the meeting had been, how moved she was by our partnership. And Norma told me how she could tell that Holly really “got” us. 

“I could tell she was taking it all in. And her questions…those got me thinking!” Norma said.

Norma and I have always worked fluidly, allowing new opportunities that resonate with us to shape our next moves. But, we realized, we really did need an “elevator speech.” 

We also needed pictures. 

“When I look at your website, I don’t see you,” Holly said when the two of us talked after our initial Zoom meeting with Norma. “What’s so great about you, what you bring, is the two of you together, and I don’t see that on your site.”

I agreed. Our homepage had a picture of a typewriter. 

“Totally.” I said. “The struggle is that we have a couple headshots, but we don’t have a lot of other pictures of us. And Norma has said seeing our headshots over and over again centers us in the work too much. It makes it feel like it’s all about us when really it’s about community.” 

Holly agreed. “But then,” I continued, “Using stock photography is hard because all the photos that celebrate social justice and diversity are usually cheesy pictures with a line up of people of every shade and ability, or maybe a bunch of different colored hands in a circle.” Holly laughed. 

Holly smiled. "Well, in addition to website design services, we also provide photography services, and we would be happy to provide that,” she said. “And at no cost because we believe in the mission. Let me send you some photos, and you can see what you think.”

The photos, action shots of Holly and Cody’s kids in sports events, friends’ anniversary and birthday parties, were amazing. Each one captured authentic emotion and connection in a way I thought would be perfect for our website.

We set up a photo shoot at Waneka Lake. I arrived before Norma, and while we waited, Cody decided to get a few shots of me on my own. I was more nervous than the situation called for. After all, I’d known Holly since I was 19. We’d lived together for three years. I’d been a bridesmaid in Holly and Cody’s wedding. Why was I so antsy? 

In truth, I knew why. “I just feel like I always take the most awkward pictures,” I admitted. Holly and Cody immediately put me at ease.

“Just talk to Holly like you normally do,” Cody said. She sat just outside the frame, and quickly I was able to ease into our conversation, nearly forgetting about Cody snapping photos. By the time Norma arrived, I’d warmed up completely.

The resulting shots captured everything about Norma and my relationship that I sometimes struggled to put into words. Our joy. Our connection. Our laughter. They were perfect.

After the photo shoot, while Holly worked on the site, Norma and I were finally able to craft our “elevator speech–which now appears on our home page. 

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Stories. They connect us. They challenge us. They ignite us. At Who Tells the Story…Because it Matters we believe true social change lies in heart-centered storytelling, in hearing others’ stories and sharing our own, and in knowing the voice behind the story makes all the difference in the message. Norma Johnson, poet and racial justice educator, and Amanda Cherry, 6th grade language arts teacher, combine their passions in a partnership that provides social-justice based facilitations for audiences of all ages. Come for the magic! 

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A few weeks later, Holly announced she was ready to show us the site. We met at Ozo Coffee and watched as she unveiled her art. We couldn’t believe how she’d taken our story and Cody’s photos and crafted such a beautiful, artistic representation of us. It truly felt like us. And it looked so professional!

“I’d want to work with those people!” Norma joked. It was true. We always knew people were drawn to us because of our connection; they saw our partnership and felt pulled in by our ability to mix challenging and important topics with humor, warmth, joy, and love.

As we left that day, I thought about how I’d almost decided not to ask for Holly’s help–because I didn’t want to brag, because I didn’t want to ask for too much, because I didn’t want to put our friendship in jeopardy. I’m so glad I put those fears aside. I’m so glad I bragged a bit about Norma and me because now I can brag on Holly’s behalf. 

Look at the site, I can say! Look at us! And look what she did! 

And we all can feel so authentically proud.

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