Mom, Dad ... I'm an Entrepreneur

At some point, lots of kids realize that China is on the opposite side of the globe from us. They imagine digging a tunnel to China. I actually started digging. The hole was so big, my parents had to call a landscaper to come fix it.

In ninth grade, we were asked to write an essay on a world leader we admired. My classmates wrote about JFK, Churchill, and Ghandi. I wrote about Attila the Hun.

By the time I was twenty, I had created lemonade stands, a nuclear freeze club, a squash team, a secret society, and dozens of other weird creations.

Back then, nobody could spell the word "entrepreneur" let alone recognize that I was one. Instead, my parents worried that I'd never be able to hold a "normal" job or land a husband. I had friends, but never quite fit in with any one clique. And, a lot of teachers and coaches were left a bit frustrated with the kid who seemed smart, but wasn't so good at following rules.

It was actually quite painful. I envied the girls who wrote those predictable essays, were content with the options in front of them, and said exactly the right thing (or had the ability to remain silent).

My twenties were spent getting comfortable in my own skin. To quote Lady Gaga, "I was born this way." I've learned to celebrate that different thing about myself. Even my dad has stopped asking me when I'm going to take the bar exam and get a "real job."

Today, entrepreneurship is hot. This generation's hero is Zuckerberg and there are courses (even entire degree programs!) about creating your own thing. Everyone has a screenplay or a business plan--and starbucks is filled with these ambitious kids hunched over laptops. Oddly, this thing that I am--and couldn't shake--is now something people want to be. People are now choosing this life--though I'm still not sure I would be an entrepreneur if I had the choice.

My experience is that entrepreneurs are born. We're born to entrepreneurial parents and to lawyers/ homemakers too. We've always been here, quietly trying to find each other, struggling to figure out how/why we're different, and trying to please spouses/parents who don't understand us.

To my gay friends, it all sounds incredibly familiar...even the implied slight bitterness at our "thing" suddenly being thrust into the spotlight of cool.

Thoughts?

Nancy Lublin