I sat down with my entire cast and crew and thoroughly explained the importance of the next day’s show. I emphasized that we needed maximum sleep so we could have maximum energy and perform our best. Stressed, shaking, and stuttering, I kept repeating just how much the show meant to me, like a broken record. (Dear Millennials: A record is an ancient musical medium—like a physical version of a download.) Finally I called everyone in for a team huddle and ended the meeting for the night, since it was almost midnight. As I walked to my hotel room, I turned back briefly and saw, to my complete surprise, that a few of my dancers, two of whom were my oldest, closest friends, were not headed in the same direction. I could hear them discussing going out for a few drinks and food. Absolutely astonished, I walked up to them and exclaimed, “How are you going out right now after everything I just said?!” They responded that they didn’t think it was a big deal and they wanted to hang out for a bit. I was so furious, I just walked away. I didn’t know what to say. Back in my hotel room, I replayed the incident in my head to see if I’d overreacted. I felt extremely disrespected. I couldn’t believe that my two friends, who were also my dancers, could betray me and disregard my feelings during such a stressful time. They were wrong, and nothing would convince me otherwise!
The next day we did the show and it went brilliantly. Everyone performed well, Dwayne’s family loved the whole experience, and the crew captured amazing footage. To an outside observer, things would appear to be swell. But on the inside I was still fuming. My friends had contributed to one of the most stressful nights of the tour for me. This fury lasted a few days until I finally just needed to talk to someone. I approached our tour manager, Dave, whom we had all taken to calling “Dad” because, truthfully, that’s what he became to us. Dad always took care of us on the road and did everything to ensure we felt our best on-and offstage. With my spirits low, I sat down beside him and said, “I don’t get why my friends would do that to me before the most important show. They’re so selfish.” His reply was blunt but necessary. With kindness in his eyes, he replied, “Lilly, just because something is important to you, it doesn’t mean it’s important to them.”
Have you ever heard something so simple yet profound that it literally felt like a switch had been flipped within you? That’s what this felt like. Dad was absolutely right. All of my dancers, my friends included, performed so well every single night. They always put on a great show and never did anything offstage that negatively impacted their presence onstage. If my dancers had gone out that night and then danced horribly the next day, I would have had the right to get upset. But they hadn’t. The real reason I was upset was that I had mistakenly thought their personal priorities were identical to mine—a misguided assumption. Dwayne is my childhood hero, not theirs. The footage was for my documentary, not theirs. I was feeling stressed and anxious, and they weren’t. They were paid to do a job and they did it remarkably well. They were not being paid to care about what I cared about. Remember when I said nothing would convince me they weren’t wrong? Well, Dad found a way.
The same goes for professional relationships. If you start a business with a partner and your personal goals are to do a lot of charity and social work, you may run into issues if your co-worker just wants to make a lot of money. Does wanting to make it big make him wrong? No. Some people want to be rich. Others want to make a social impact. Maybe both of your priorities will change and completely switch later in life, but for the moment they’re different.
Now, that doesn’t mean that you cannot ever be in a successful relationship with someone with different priorities. You can have the same goals even, but you need to learn to understand each other’s priorities and keep them in mind. If you can be mindful of the fact that other people are motivated by their own priorities, you won’t feel like they’re intentionally disrespecting you. Your boyfriend going out to watch sports instead of hanging out with you for a night doesn’t necessarily mean he’s selfish. It means that he likes sports and that watching the game is a priority for him. If you absolutely cannot accept someone else’s priorities, that’s a good indication that maybe you’re not the best fit for each other. After all, sometimes we base our expectations of people based on what we want them to prioritize. As with all expectations, you risk disappointment. But if you can learn to work with people in a way that doesn’t make them feel like they have to sacrifice everything they care about, you’ll go a long way.
A Bawse knows how wonderful it feels when someone respects your priorities. I’ll never forget the first time my mom placed importance on my content creation, after I’d spent years trying to get my parents to take my career seriously. My dad was asking me to go somewhere with him, and before I could reply, she told him, “She can’t today. It’s Thursday and she has to make a video.” I beamed with pride. It felt AMAZING to have my priority not only recognized but accommodated, even if in a minor way, by someone I love.
We all have a carrot dangling above our heads. For some people that carrot is money. For others it’s family. And still for others it’s Instagram likes. The best relationships are those that not only allow you to have your own unique carrot but also allow you to help your partner reach their carrot. If two people get to care about their priorities in addition to caring about each other, that’s a win. So don’t just assume everyone cares about what you care about. And, more importantly, don’t label that space between your priorities as wrong or right. There are 7 billion people on the planet and we’re all going to have different carrots.
Bugs Bunny would have a field day—maybe don’t go into business with him.
Let’s Prioritize
What are your top three priorities in life? (BE HONEST NOW, and remember there are no rights or wrongs.)
What are your boyfriend/girlfriend/mother/father/sister’s top priorities?
EVERYONE IS WEIRD. No matter how “normal” someone seems, I can assure you that they also do very weird stuff. When I make a speech, I wear high heels, a power suit, and eye shadow. I stand up straight and use words like “fathom” and “whom.” I look put together, poised, and normal as eff. Then I get backstage to my dressing room, put on my unicorn slippers, tie my hair like a horn on the front of my forehead, and gallop around while making pig noises. If someone asks me what I’m doing, I will respond only in the tone of a dramatic opera singer. That’s the weirdo I am, and I’m proud of it.
But there’s more to being yourself than being weird.
In this day and age, everyone thinks they are being their true selves because they use an abundance of Tumblr quotes indicating so and post double-chin selfies. And I’m here to tell you that a silly selfie with two filters in a cute outfit with a caption that reads “Sorry, not sorry” is a very basic level of “being yourself.” I’ve recently learned that true authenticity is like a beautiful lasagna with many layers. Once you get past the cute cheesy stuff, it gets heavy. I used to live my life thinking I was completely myself. I embraced my weirdness, never pretended to be someone I wasn’t, and stood up for what I believed in. If you’d told me that I could be MORE myself, I would have sneered at you: “Are you kidding? I’m SO me. If someone was taking attendance right now and called my name, I would raise both of my hands.”
But then I met someone and within an hour she changed everything I thought I knew about being authentic. I was introduced to a new level of realness, an unapologetic type, and it changed my life.
It’s October 2015, and I’m holding a jar of pickles and some flaming hot Cheetos (as one should) as I nervously pace back and forth waiting to shoot a video. I’m anxious, excited, and terrified all at the same time. I’m a twenty-seven-year-old child. I approach my manager and start spitting out some inspirational sentences, mostly to reassure myself: “This is going to be totally awesome. I’m just going to be cool. Look how chill I am. I look like the snowflake emoji just ate a chill pill in the Arctic. Mother-effing McFlurry vibes. Brrrrrrr …” And then from the back of the room I hear a voice excitedly ask, “Where’s Lilly?!”
All chill has left the building. Welcome to the Sahara Desert.