There is a hidden cost to putting yourself out there—an emotional cost—one that’s hardly mentioned because most of us are very self-conscious.
A Journey of Validation
Months ago, when I finally found the courage to put up my proposal, I spent countless hours arguing with myself. It felt like I was calculating the cost of being rejected by the community. You see, it’s not just about not getting funded—which, of course, can force a change of plans—it’s about how that rejection happens.
I spoke with plenty of people prior to making the post. I had seen valuable members of the community—people I consider not only reasonable but also kind—react with aggression when a new proposal was put forth. So the fear I had was not unfounded.
Sarcastic comments have their place. I’m known to dish them out as well. But in this context, they cut differently.
To put it plainly: a Hivean exposes themselves to the rocks.
Do you find me valuable?
Do you trust me?
Do you believe I have a valid vision?
Do you think I’m one of you?
Those questions are not explicitly written in any proposal, but they sit at the core of all of them.
I have to recognize—and even admire—those who can put themselves out there without a second thought. If they trash me, who cares? At least I tried, they think. There’s a kind of freedom in that mindset that’s hard to emulate if it doesn’t come naturally.
It’s Not Always Entitlement
I realize this might sound contradictory, since I’ve been one of the voices calling for austerity. But there’s a fine line I’m trying to carve.
Entitlement can be part of the picture, of course. But I’d argue that most of the people who operated purely from that mindset are long gone. I’m sure when the price turns around, they’ll show up again.
Some people genuinely believe their work is worth a lot of money. Not out of dishonesty, but out of delusion. Maybe they haven’t thought it through. Maybe, in their view, it’s the market that’s failing when it doesn’t recognize their value.
And maybe that belief is exactly what gives them the courage to step forward in the first place.
When a Proposal Fails
There’s a realignment that happens—both in the culture of the platform and in the mind of the person who was brave enough to step forward and be judged.
I’m sympathetic to it. And I want to give credit to anyone willing to make that choice.
But I also want to offer a word of caution: if you’re going to put forth a proposal, do it with sober expectations.
It’s in our best interest not to tie our sense of self-worth to how the politics of any platform—including this one—respond to our voice or our contribution. It’s in our best interest to find peace in the effort itself. If we gave it our best, then in a meaningful sense, we’ve already won.
Because in the end, the rocks are always there.
The only real question is whether we step forward anyway.
—MenO