by Jay W. Vogt

Published in IndUS Business Journal, December 17, 2005

Downloadable PDF (104kb)

One hour, 400 strangers, and one goal: a community of trust and laughter. How are we going to pull this off?

It’s Friday night at the first-ever Stonyfield Farm Strong Women Summit at the Mohonk Mountain House in New Paltz, New York. A sell-out crowd of 400 women is here, culled down from a mass of 19,000 who expressed interest in coming by responding to ads on yogurt cup lids and in health magazines. They sit in the Victorian splendor of Mohonk’s main parlor – nervous, excited, expectant.

Miriam Nelson, author of the best-selling Strong Women Stay Young series, and Gary Hirshberg, CEO of yogurt company Stonyfield Farm, have already welcomed the crowd. Next up: me, the one other male on a weekend program of strong women like Erin Brockovich and Kristine Lilly.

They have incredible stories to tell, and I have no wish to compete. My goal is simple – to have every woman connecting with the “strong woman” inside her, and telling her story with full candor, before the hour is out.

First we begin with a show of hands to get people engaged. How many are from New York? How many are from the Mid-Atlantic? We discover one brave soul has flown in from California for the weekend, and gets warm applause.

Then more personal questions: Who came with a friend? With a sister? A life partner? A mother or a daughter? The women who are taking risks to share this experience with a family member, or an intimate, reveal themselves, and so the room knows itself a little better.

This readies us to take the plunge. I want more revelation, though only what individuals feel safe in sharing about themselves. And I want it to emerge with the ease of laughter. So I adapt one of my favorite games – “Have you ever?”

Standing with my cordless microphone at the edge of the audience, I ask whether anyone else has had various experiences I’ve had, saying, “Have you ever done so and so?” I ask them to stand silently for a moment if their answer is yes. Every experience I ask about has to be true of me as well.

So I say, “Have you ever…locked your keys in your car?” And sheepishly dozens who have joined me in this error stand to laughter and applause. They immediately sense they have something in common, and that it’s safe to admit mistakes.

I continue, asking ”Have you ever run a red light?” Now a second group, this time speedsters, stands with me.

After one or two more, I call out, “Who has a ‘Have you ever?’ question for the group?” and a brave woman takes the mike and says: “Have you ever sat on the toilet in the middle of the night and fallen through because the seat was up?” The room howls with knowing laughter, and many women stand. Soon participants are eagerly waiting to ask their question and discover who else has shared their experience

“Have you ever run a road race?”

“Have you ever danced naked?”

“Have you ever given birth?”

One woman asks, “Have you ever designed a bridge?” She stands alone, proudly, while cheers fill up the hall. The room sparkles with delight, discovery, revelation. We are laughing, playing, and having a conversation – the four hundred of us - but we are just getting warmed up.

While the energy is still high, I bring our game to a close, asking folks to pair up with someone sitting next to them. We then introduce a special kind of interviewing called “appreciative inquiry” that draws out the best in us. I challenge them to elicit from their partner a story of a time when she felt like a strong woman, whatever that means to her – physically, emotionally, spiritually, artistically, etc. What was that experience, and what made it so great? They each have four minutes.

Suddenly the room is abuzz with animated conversations. Although most women are talking with someone they just met, they enjoy the bond of shared experiences from our game together. Though every pair is speaking in a crowd, each is cloaked by a curtain of white noise from all the other pairs. Women say later they effortlessly revealed very private stories from their lives.

After ringing a temple bell to call everyone’s attention back to me, I ask for volunteers to share their story, or perhaps their partner’s story. One by one a few women stand and testify to stories of their own strength. A woman tells how she cared for her dying parents and emerged stronger. Another tells of the Hell of starting a business and the joy of succeeding. Another tells of running her first marathon. For now, the stars of the weekend are the women who came. We hear their stories, and celebrate them.

Soon there is time for just one more question. I ask the women to partner with someone new. “Think of a time in your life when you made a difference.” The theme of the weekend is not just being strong, but being strong enough to give to your community. The new pairs settle back into the warm buzz of their conversations, and, afterwards, brave souls again share their stories. A teacher who has changed lives. A mother who is proud of her children. A woman who ran for office and won the right to serve her community.

Finally, the hour is up. All the women present are elated, ready to tear this place apart, dancing in the great hall. Everyone sees the spark of a strong woman in those around them, and in themselves. I ask them to give themselves a standing ovation, and they do.