Name Your Price.

I was asked recently to value myself. A monetary value. A dollar amount. How much do I think I’m worth? That thought process nearly exploded my brain because I couldn’t stop coming back to the notion about how we assign ourselves value.

I work in real estate finance and was discussing property values with a colleague recently where they shared that the value of a property is a combination of factors, but often will come down to what someone is willing to pay for it. As I am a human who lives freely in the world at large, I get the sense that this particular concept is not limited to properties.

I mean, think about it. Stanley water bottles and cups. Are they made of material that is far superior to every other cup in the store? They might tell you yes. I might tell you that I abhor water containers that don’t easily sit in the cup holder in my car. Also, if lifting my water vessel requires strength training, I’m out.

But- what did Stanley’s people do? They marketed the fuck out of that water bottle. They got their boldly colored oversized tin cans in the hands of every influencer that ever existed. They created partnerships and innovative designs (and by innovative, I mean MORE MARKETING). Suddenly, every teenaged girl around the ages of 13 to 15 could not, and I mean NOT go into school with anything other than a Stanley, lest she be socially ostracized. Forget the fact that Stanley cups, priced at $45 and up, are significantly higher priced than other drinking containers. It doesn’t matter. People were expected to do what they had to. You need to go without snacks for a week because your kid needs a Stanley? Do it.

Of course, for some, there is no amount of bargaining or cutting corners that would make that make sense. For some families, $50 could be spent on much more important things, like fuel for the home or for the belly (aka food). And yet, there is temptation because the brilliant minds at Stanley have advised us all that Stanley cups are worth scads of money because they are the “it” cup.

The IT cup. Can you imagine?

Of course you can. Because there are IT girls (says Instagram and Tik Tok and award shows and Netflix and all the other people who decide these things) and IT food items (remember when coconut oil was all the rage and pumpkin spice has a season every season and seltzers seem to be coming back dressed differently every fucking year).

Are those people and things and well, places, inherently worth more because they have been priced according to their desirability?

Let me ask that somewhat differently: are the rest of us peons worth less because we aren’t?

Actually, I’m sorry. You may actually be part of the inner sanctum- the power circle. I don’t want to make assumptions.

If you are- then where do you derive your value, and does your value diminish when people are less enamored of you?

If you aren’t, like me, where do you begin?

Anyway, I had to start to sort all of this out to figure out what my value was in the greater scheme of things. If I went with the very first principle I shared- I’d be worth what people are willing to pay for me. On one hand, I’m privileged and recognize that I make a nice living. On the other hand, that living is not commensurate with that of my colleagues. So, while I might argue that I’m undervalued or underpaid, someone else might tell me that’s exactly what I’m worth (see the catch 22).

Can I assign value outside of what someone might pay for me? Can I look at the intrinsic value in what I bring to the table as a human being? I could- but would I get others to agree with me on where that line is? Would I be able to hold the line and keep on the forefront of my brain that my value is higher than my sticker price when faced with naysayers?

I mean, historically, that answer has been no. Traditionally, I’ve allowed myself to believe that my value is a function of the way in which I’m treated. If I’m handled like garbage, I must be garbage. If the men that I date and the managers I work for and the people I befriend all treat me like a bargain basement deal, then that’s what I must be. I must be a half priced special, right?

If that’s not true, then the real question becomes how do we claim our value inside the web of destruction that is everyone else’s point of view? How do we separate the reality of a thing to keep ourselves grounded from the petty, cheap, derogatory, shitty behavior that seems to be the go-to for many humans? How do we see ourselves through the lens that everyone else does and also form a very separate, distinct view that includes where we think we operate and how we think we should be treated?

Do you know how to do that?

I sure don’t. Or at least, I didn’t. I’ve been on that scary journey for a little while now. Trying to figure out what all of this means for me. I usually find myself running headfirst into the imposter syndrome brick wall whenever I attempt to assign a value to myself that’s even a scotch higher than where others have placed me in the proverbial rung. I stand strong and then, I falter. Maybe they are right. Maybe they do know better. Perhaps I’m being arrogant. Maybe I should leave well enough alone.

Should I?

No. And honestly, you shouldn’t either. And maybe I feel that way for all the reasons you might imagine and maybe there are some reasons that you’ve never even considered. The thing is, they are my reasons. And if you want to embark on this journey of personal value assignation, you are going to have to find your own way.

I will, out of the goodness of my heart, give you a little hint: the loud voices that are harsh and bang around in your head and seem to reverberate in your belly…. those are often the false ones. Pay attention to the quiet ones. The itty bitty ones. The whispers you hear when you curl up in the dark. Warm breath on your neck and ear lobe tickles. The voice in the quiet that says: Girl, you are worthy.

X

L.