Matthew McConaughey taught me something
Yes, the Hollywood actor.
Matt, not McConaughey, Matt Duarte, my husband, became an audiobook kind of guy. Playing in three different bands, with one of them based on the west coast of Florida, plus a kid in all kinds of after-school activities, gets him driving a lot — hence audiobooks.
Aside from “Women Who Run With The Wolves” I was never successful with audiobooks. Somehow, Jessica, the inner voice in charge of my to-do lists, gets louder than the narrator.Not for me, I concluded after a few failed attempts.
A couple of months ago, Matt and I were in the kitchen chopping veggies for dinner and chatting about our day. I tell him about the writing class I attended that morning via Zoom with Gotham Writers. The homework I had for the week was on descriptions, sensory details, and showing rather than telling.
“Well, so you gotta listen to this,” he says, eyes tearing up from the red onions in front of him.
He plays a section of Matthew McConaughey’s book Greenlights where he described a scene of a conversation he’s having with Camila.
“Damn. This is fantastic. Okay. I’m going to give it a try.”
No offense intended, but a memoir written by someone like Matthew McConaughey is not the kind of book on my list.
What catches my interest in storytelling, books, spoken word, and films, is the relatability. I could never have anything in common with a Hollywood star. I couldn’t see how any stories coming from a white man who lives in a completely different reality than mine could grip my heart.
I started listening in and the stories were good. Probably the way he narrated them, being an experienced actor, made the stories even better. I heard that people who read the book, instead of listening to it, had a feeling he was arrogant.
Well, tone matters, am I right? In the era of e-mail and texting, I guess we all learned this the hard way. Praise the tech goddesses for voice messages and the good ole phone call.
Anyway, back to Greenlights.
I was right. We didn’t have anything in common, but I was hooked. The last chapter is the one that made me pause and listen with 100% of my attention. Believe it or not, Jessica, my to-do list inner voice, went quiet too.
McConaughey, despite achieving fame and everything that money could buy, described that he needed a change. The roles in romantic comedies were easy and fun but were no longer fulfilling his soul. Once he realized that, he decided to say No to any offers that were not aligned with what he wanted for that season and his future. Even when the pay went up five times the initial offer, even after a whole year of no work, and after two years.
Of course, when you’re privileged and financially comfortable, it is easier to say no. I had that in my mind all the time listening to his experience, but I won’t lie that seeing the transformation he was able to achieve by sticking to his plans and dreams, did grip my heart.
I needed clarity in my own journey leaving a career and an organization I gave my life to the last six years.
I needed to know there was a chance I’d be okay.
The life of a middle-class immigrant woman of color married to a full-time indie artist is very different from an international celebrity. Women are taught to be agreeable in this patriarchal world — and more in certain cultures than others.
I was taught that saying no is equal to being ungrateful.
So for most of my life, I said yes to offers without wanting to. I stayed in situations that were uncomfortable because I was afraid to be deemed ungrateful, unfaithful, or unfriendly, as I had been before when I mustered the courage to leave.
This week I said no to two job opportunities. It felt so wrong saying or typing those words. I was so afraid to disappoint the people who believe I am a good fit for their organization. Organizations I love and cherish. How could I?
“Who do you think you are to say no?” Becky lashes at me. Becky is my mean inner voice. Becky looks like Avril Lavigne in 2003.
“Well, Becky. I am about to turn 40. If I don’t do the things I want to do now, then when?” I try to engage.
“You are not Matthew McConaughey,” she strikes back.
Becky is right, I am not, but I am Thali.
Daughter, mother, partner, friend, activist, and business executive with decades of experience. And now, now is the time for me to become the writer I always wanted to be.
Matthew McConaughey taught me I own myself to say no. The green light is on for me.
Becky leaves the room.
I shake the fear off, open my computer and start working on chapter 3 of my memoir.
Before I go, here’s something special from Cleo Wade:
Stay brave, friend.
Thali
Originally published at https://thali.substack.com.
