So, Uhhh, What the Bleep is a Bold Introvert Anyway?
Jumbo shrimp. Freezer burn. Civil war. Bold introvert. Some may be shocked to learn that one of these is not an oxymoron. If you’re on this site, you’ve probably already guessed which one.
Much like with jumbo shrimp, I tend to want to vomit when I hear people talk of introverts as shy, meek, and sometimes even slow or unintelligent (Ahem, Elon Musk called. He’d like to have a word).
With jumbo shrimp, it’s because I’m allergic to shellfish. With pronouncements of meek introverts, it’s because I’m allergic to ignorance.
I’m not the first to call out this flapdoodle (I just learned this word and I’m dying) that introversion equals shyness. Shy people can be introverts—and there’s nothing wrong with being shy—but they’re not synonymous. That supposition is entirely flapdoodley.
What I don’t see is a lot of is descriptions of what the alternatives look like. And that is how the term bold introvert came to be.
I’ve always felt a kinship with the spirited underdogs. (Insert your favorite spunky rebel story here. I’m going with The Mighty Ducks. #90skid)
Words like tenacious, and even scrappy, have always lit me up. I have a bag emblazoned with the line from A Midsummer Night’s Dream: “Though she be but little she is fierce.” That, more or less, is how I see bold introverts. Scrappy, tenacious, underestimated.
They may all have these traits in common but there is more than one kind of bold introvert.
There’s the Stifled Bold Introvert who has BIG ideas, but no one is any the wiser about them because they just can’t seem to figure out where to start.
There’s the Industrious Bold Introvert whose nose is permanently attached to the grindstone and who is waiting for somebody to take notice. Maybe today? No? Okay, maybe tomorrow…
There’s the Entrepreneurial Bold Introvert who’s likely got at least one side project going on and might be wondering why it’s not gaining traction because it’s such. a. good. idea. (And it is a good idea.)
There’s the Zero-to-Sixty Bold Introvert who makes herky-jerky progress by revolving through a demoralizing cycle of playing extrovert and then burning out. Lather, rinse, repeat.
There’s the Tortoise Bold Introvert who listened to their bedtime stories and internalized all the lessons. They keep making progress, little by little. Good on them! They will get where they are going eventually. But—hear me out here—what if someone zoomed past on a zippy little Vespa and offered them a lift to get there faster?
Incidentally, that’s my new self-imposed nickname—Zippy Little Vespa. Has a ring to it, amiright?
And then there’s the MAJESTIC BEAST BOLD INTROVERT who is deserving of all caps because they are over there owning their introversion, leveraging its strengths, and having big-time fricking impact. (My goal is to help more people get here. More majestic beasts, I say.)
Let me make it clear that I have been all of these.
They are all okay. You’re okay. If you’re happy where you’re at, that’s fantastic. If you’re not, it’s time to get started. Because a year from now you’ll wish you had started today. Not starting will kill you.
Of all these types, I was a tortoise bold introvert for the longest. And I was a sad puppy. I kept my head down, did good work, and just sort of waited. For… what exactly?
I think Ash Ambirge over at The Middle Finger Project put it the best when she wrote the first of her 10 Commandments of Becoming Unf*ckwithable: “Thou shall not wait for an imaginary endorsement from The Committee of True and Actual Greatness to affirm that you’re good enough to put your work out there.”
I was convinced that this Committee of True and Actual Greatness must have lost my application somewhere. Did I forget to send the attachment?
Instead of shaking things up, I kept doing what I always did and (shocker!) kept getting what I always got. Crickets from the Committee. And, usually, my good ideas were nabbed up by someone who wasn’t waiting for approval.
Look at this majestic beast of a woman in a white jumpsuit riding a zippy little Vespa that I found after I wrote this article. She is a goddess an everything I aspire to become.
Then I hopped on my Zippy Little Vespa and got the fork out. No one was knocking at my door to hand me the life and career I wanted. (Yeah, Mom, I know you told me this for actual decades.)
As cliché as it sounds, I had to build my own door. And I knocked on that thing like the most devoted witness Jehovah has ever seen until I finally knocked it down.
So, my sweet choco-creampuffs, what does this mean for you? Well, I will tell you what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean you need to become an extrovert. One more time for good measure: It. Doesn’t. Mean. You. Need. To. Become. An. Extrovert.
It doesn’t mean get loud. Bold and loud are not the same thing.
Loud is a giant buffoon with a megaphone (or a Twitter account) pretending to be a leader by criticizing everyone who disagrees with them.
Bold is that one woman who somehow manages to pull off a solid white pantsuit (how the hell does she not spill a single drop of coffee on that thing?!) striding into the room, leaving everyone a little weak in the knees, without saying a word.
It may be hard to see from our current vantage point, but loud is passé. Bold is the future.
What kind if bold will you be, you majestic beast?