On the death of mentorship

“I realized I often felt like I had this choir of Black women in my ear.” - Pleasure Activism, Cara Page, in conversation with adrienne maree brown

Doing it for the Attention is a newsletter that highlights how asking for attention has been weaponized against us. Through personal essays, Q&As and community resources, I offer strategies to help us rebuild the skill set and the capacity that puts our creative, liberatory work in the spotlight.

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“I realized I often felt like I had this choir of Black women in my ear.” - Pleasure Activism, Cara Page, in conversation with adrienne maree brown

“When I speak about reciprocity as a relationship, let me be clear. I don’t mean a bilateral exchange in which an obligation is incurred, and can then be discharged with a reciprocal “payment.” I mean keeping the gift in motion in a way that is open and diffuse, so that the gift does not accumulate and stagnate, but keeps moving, like the gift of berries through an ecosystem. We ecologists think about the currency of ecosystems in terms of biogeochemistry — the cycling of life’s materials, between the living and the not.” - The Serviceberry, Robin Wall Kimmerer

“As I noted earlier, there is a significant portion of people for whom the project of day-to-day survival leaves no attention for anything else; that’s part of the vicious cycle too. This is why it’s even more important for anyone who does have margin — even the tiniest one — to put it to use in opening up margins further down the line. Tiny spaces can open up small spaces, small spaces can open bigger spaces. If you can afford to pay a different kind of attention, you should.” - How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy by Jenny Odell

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I didn’t realize my mistake until the week before classes started. While hurrying through registration, I had signed up for a Women’s Studies class at the wrong campus, one that was significantly farther away.

Classes always filled up quickly, so it was unlikely that I would be able to drop the class and enroll in one at my home campus.

Fine, I thought, I’ll deal with it for one semester.

That mistake, likely borne of distraction, changed the trajectory of my life.

Toward the end of the semester, the professor pulled me aside. Might I be interested in applying for an internship of hers? She wondered.

Beyond teaching, she was a career coach and was preparing to launch her first book.

At the time, I was nineteen years old and determined to run my own business, a theme you can see repeat itself in my application.

Even before I landed the role, I hoped that she would become a mentor to me. In the application, I actually wrote, “It provides comfort in knowing that you have a mentor to converse with when hardships occur, leads you to a network of successful people, and garners wisdom that will be useful in any business endeavor.”

Frankenstein-like grammar aside, she did take me on as an intern, and over the course of the next several years, I learned the foundation of public relations, the art of public speaking, and the skillset required to cultivate an audience eager to hear what you have to say.

In between that education, the greatest impact she had on my moral and entrepreneurial maturation arrived in small kindnesses. The reflection of how much my business writing had improved. Reviewing an application I was going to submit (from an opportunity that she put on my radar). Encouragement to develop a skill that she saw I had potential in.

The bricks she helped me lay side by side still make up the ground I walk on today.

“MAY I PICK YOUR BRAIN?”

In 2011, right when I was at the height of my entrepreneurial fervor, following the likes of Danielle LaPorte, Marie Forleo, Laura Roeder, and Gabby Bernstein, a distinct shift occurred.

The conversation changed from suggesting that you find people who were further along than you to learn from – a typical “May I pick your brain?” conversation – to vehemently claiming that the request was not only impolite but harmful.

Time is our most precious resource is the maxim that they would use as a blanket explanation for why this type of conversation was no longer socially acceptable.

Coaching as a business model was hot. In fact, everyone wanted to be rich, happy, and hot, which was exactly what the coaching industry was promising us.

So it’s not surprising that coaches were saying something to the effect of stop giving away your time for free because you could be charging for it instead.

From clean water to clean air to the time we have in a day, we are encouraged to commoditize and to submit to commodification.

When paid masterminds popped on the scene for 20k annual price tags, many people rushed to join them. And they saw incredible results — more influential networks, bloated bottom lines, whatever whatever.

As N. Chloé Nwangwu has pointed out, these masterminds operated as shortcuts to establishing our own networks.

But there were those of us who simply didn’t have the resources or didn’t want to put a second mortgage on our homes to “make our dreams happen.”

So we created peer mastermind groups instead — intimate gatherings of 2-4 people with whom we would meet monthly so we could externally process, plan, and practice accountability.

We followed in the steps of those who met in living rooms and around the table, Eagle and Child pub style.

But, because of the systems in which we live, many of us are operating in silos, our only option for mentorship existing behind virtual paywalled experiences and pricey in-person retreats.

Now, I am not saying that we should all give away our services for free, nor am I suggesting that coaching as a business model is inherently harmful.

The skill of coaching is a gift, and there are many coaches in our industry that I admire and look to for guidance.

What’s more, I am painfully aware that we operate in a capitalist context, far away from Robin Wall Kimmerer’s vision of a gift economy. As a multiracial, single mama, I’m no stranger to the ways that folks that belong to under-recognized populations are disproportionately cut off from the resources we need most while being subjected to cognitive and visibility biases.

So what am I saying?

It’s this: I believe we can share our knowledge by offering mentorship to others in a way that provides something valuable for all parties involved, within our capacity and without the weight of a price tag attached to it.

And not only do I believe it’s something we can do. I’m of the belief that it’s something we must do if we hold a vision of liberation in our hearts.

WHAT IS A MENTOR?

Before a mentor was a role that you or I could inhabit, it was a person.

Specifically, it was a fictional character from Homer’s Odyssey, the man who was trusted to educate and oversee the development of Odysseus’ son, Telemachus.

Athena eventually takes on the form of Mentor, encouraging Telemachus to go find his father, a move that would spark Telemachus’ growth into adulthood.

For me, that story is a reminder of both the fluid nature and the powerful impact of mentorship; its ability to morph between role model, muse, advocate, champion, and friend.

But if mentorship is so critical to our psychological growth and our overall wellbeing, as this 2023 report from the surgeon general suggests, why is its existence fading? Why are people so unwilling to engage in a relationship like this?

Anna Goldfarb

, a journalist and author of Modern Friendship: How to Nurture Our Most Valued Connections, found that a combination of factors including increased obligations according to age, decreased trust, and a fragmented society, just to name a few, are contributing to our dwindling social relationships.

In short, we’re busy, wary of others, and spread out all over the world. It’s no wonder we’re having a hard time maintaining relationships, let alone finding people who have the desire and the bandwidth to guide us on our career paths.

And, while we’re asking questions, what exactly is a mentor?

Is it someone who you meet once in a while for a coffee? Someone you closely work with while developing a skill? A person you have on speed dial when a crisis emerges?

Lisa Fain, in conversation with Anjali Sastry on NPR’s Life Kit podcast, defines it like this: “Mentorship is a reciprocal relationship that's a partnership where mentor and mentee focus on mutually defined goals that advance a mentee's skills, abilities or competencies.”

For me, that definition feels too dense, like walking through an overgrown forest, restricting your movement forward.

It’s important to me to call this out because I believe our definition of mentorship is a part of the reason why creating those relationships feels so inaccessible, both from the perspective of the mentor and the mentee.

It also helps me understand why content — everything from an SEO-friendly blog post to a viral reel — might feel like an OK substitution for “getting advice,” because, after all, isn’t that what mentors basically do?

From that standpoint, it’s easy to argue that free mentorship — from small moments of picking someone’s brain to more robust relationships — can be substituted by the proliferation of free content, therefore democratizing access to information. That perspective feeds wonderfully into the disfigured myth of the American Dream, after all.

In some ways, I agree. A well-timed podcast episode has helped reframe my mindset or try on a new habit. I’m sure you can think of a few too.

Overall, though, I argue that it’s still a poor substitution for a relationship with another human being, akin to wanting to relax but trying to achieve that state by binge watching a show about the apocalypse. (Not that I have personally watched hours of Sweet Tooth only to lay awake bathed in anxiety for hours after.)

It's possible that we like content as a substitution because it’s not as messy as a real human relationship. There’s no conflict if we disagree. There’s no one to incite discomfort through accountability. We simply close the tab or skip to a different episode.

But the sanitization of emotion in the process of becoming – of the development of our minds and our souls – is 100% not the point. Growth, the kind that’s meaningful and lasting, comes from a person sitting in front of you, believing in you, witnessing you, loving you, and pushing you three degrees to the left or the right or ahead, all without a price tag attached to it.

In “The Machine Stops”, a short story by E.M. Forster published in 1909, technology has replaced genuine human interaction. Humans balk at the idea of seeing others outside of a virtual context, being touched, or having the sunlight touch them. Children are separated from parents and raised by the machine instead. They have chosen convenience and efficiency over the companionship that marks their humanity.

In Forster’s representation of the future, we are lonely and lack fulfillment because of our disconnection both to each other and to our own humanity. While we aren’t living in pods like the characters in his story, our current reality feels eerily similar.

We are lonely. We are disconnected. And, no matter what we try to replace it with, we still need each other.

A HALL OF MIRRORS

Let me take you back to 2020. (I promise this is a positive story amidst a year of so much chaos). I’m sifting through my inbox when a new inquiry pops up from my website contact form.

It’s from a woman who got my name from a mutual contact. She’s asking for advice about pivoting to PR after being laid off and wondered if I might be open to chatting with her.

After our initial meeting, I ended up offering her some basic PR training, similar to what I was offered eight years prior. It wasn’t long after that she landed a PR gig with a contact of mine based on a referral I had made.

Throughout the past five years, we’ve popped in and out of each other’s lives. We’ll catch up on Zoom. I’ll write her a recommendation letter. She’ll attend one of my events and cheer me on.

I offered her mentorship, and she gave me the opportunity to pass on what I had learned in an ever-evolving industry where unpaid mentorship isn’t readily available, especially in agency settings where everyone’s plates are full and staff is short.

Passing on that knowledge and advocating for someone else brought me joy, and I think it’s a critical piece that we forgot about when we began to prioritize capitalism over mutualism.

When you see a flickering lightbulb click on, when you witness how the knowledge you’ve freely shared has positively impacted someone’s life, it’s fulfilling in a way that payment could never be.

Because the footing that underpins mentorship is knowing that it’s a two way street, or more accurately, it’s a hall of mirrors. It allows you the opportunity to assess the state of your mind, your career, your own beliefs as they’re examined and challenged by someone who is forming their own.

You change their life, and they change yours.

A DISTORTION OF COMMUNITY

On a panel I participated in recently, the host asked how we — entrepreneurs looking to capture attention for our products and services — could land coveted spots on noteworthy shows. Do we have to buy into masterminds? She asked.

This is a valid question and it’s one I asked myself as a green publicist. I wondered, How could I ever get my clients on to these shows if the only way to access these people were through masterminds that were half of my annual income?

I hate that I had to ask myself that question. It made me feel helpless, unimportant, and unworthy of the kind of access I craved.

And I know I’m not the only one.

After fifteen years of being in online business, I’ve seen the coaching industry distort our concept of community, bending how we participate in and build relationships to fit within the post-capitalist mold.

In fact, as I was deepening my PR skills, I hired experts for their time, often using our time to get feedback on my pitches and my research methods. Those investments were worthwhile. I’m glad I made them. But none of them led to a longer-term relationship. They fizzled out, stunted by my fear of stepping over people’s boundaries and the service provider not feeling a need to extend the relationship beyond the transaction.

In these situations, the state’s emphasis on individualism and over-consumption won.

In the process, the humans involved lost. And we didn’t even realize what we were losing.

UN CAFÉCITO?

While attending an event from the organization, We Are Generations, after the 2024 election, I witnessed a beautiful story between two of the panelists. One was a movement elder and the other was new to organizing. Since the inception of Arianna Genis’ journey, Ricardo Levins Morales had met her for “a cafécito” whenever he was able, giving her advice specific to the context of her life and the context of the causes they were advocating for.

From their banter, stories, and sage advice, it was clear how the time and attention he had given her had facilitated her own journey as an organizer. In turn, he was able to share wisdom from his decades of experience, something that fulfills a human craving that we all have as narrative creatures wired for social connection.

In fact, Anna Goldfarb cites a study in her book, Modern Friendship, that speaks to this. She says, “Altruism — being concerned with other people’s welfare — is an evolutionary survival tool we developed in order to keep society chugging along. We’re hardwired to want to help others.”¹

But I think it goes beyond altruism, and Dr. Joy Harden Bradford, author of Sisterhood Heals: The Transformative Power of Healing in Community, might agree with me.

She says, “I believe that the primary way to gauge our role in either perpetuating systems of oppression or dismantling them can be found in whether we would describe ourselves (or perhaps more accurately, whether others would describe us) as a sister who holds the door open for others when she enters a space or a sister who promptly closes it behind her.”

Holding the door open for others instead of closing it behind us.

Well, Cher, that all sounds nice, some might remark, but it’s awfully haughty of you to suggest that we should all be giving away our time and attention for free. If I can mentor people and get paid, isn’t that a good thing? Doesn’t that mean I can help lots of people and take care of my needs?

Yes! I agree. I can sometimes be haughty.

I also think taking care of your needs, especially in a world careening into fascism, while helping people is wonderful.

But here’s where I challenge this hypothetical reader.

Are you not giving your time and attention away for free in other ways… ways that you sense aren’t fulfilling but lull you into spending hours away from what matters most?

LET’S TALK ABOUT CAPACITY

Now, even if you’re bought into the idea of mentorship, you might still be feeling that tinge of discomfort, primarily if you’re in a season of life where time is scarcer than ever as a caretaker or a primary provider.

Let me assure you that we don’t have to bleed ourselves dry or denounce revenue to participate in mutual flourishing.

It’s both/and.

We can make a living while freely engaging in mentorship — from one-off acts, or what I like to think of as mentor moments, to longer-term relationships.

Have you heard of

Ann Friedman

? I know her as the co-host of the podcast Call Your Girlfriend, a show that covered social issues from an intersectional feminist lens. Now, she’s best known as a writer and pens a popular newsletter each week. Each year, she selects two fellows for mentorship on non-fiction newsletter projects. These annual fellowships come with a stipend and monthly support.

While I love grant situations (if you have money to give an aspiring speculative fiction novelist, please contact me immediately), Ann’s example stands out to me because she’s taking the time to jump on a call with her fellows each month to help guide their writing.

What’s more, she sets aside revenue from her newsletter for this fellowship and has created a structure that works within her limitations and needs.

Creating a fellowship is a massive undertaking, especially when you consider that she had 600 applications to evaluate this year. But I also think of

Nic Antoinette

who used profit from her business to pay for a select number of readers to participate in paid programs or courses.

In this instance, she was the bridge to mentorship.

Or it could be as simple as the publicist I met early this year who shared a piece of advice with me that immediately disrupted how I thought about some of the services I was offering. In a share of less than five sentences that took under a minute to deliver, she planted a seed for me that helped me approach my business more strategically.

Given creativity and clarity about what we want to share, we too can create pockets within our lives that fulfill the kind of generous social connection so many of us are craving.

HOW DO WE FIND MENTORS?

I’m in my eighth year of business and I’ve spent hundreds and hundreds of hours working with clients across a breadth of industries and topics.

I don’t qualify as a beginner in PR, a label that might make potential mentors more sympathetic to the gaps in my knowledge and more willing to spend effort helping me grow.

Once we’ve accumulated years of experience, the Professor Keatings and Coach Carters of the world aren’t following us from the kitchen to our work-from-home offices, helping us see the pieces of ourselves that we haven’t yet been able to see.

Not being a beginner, however, doesn’t mean we don’t have anything else to learn.

Quite the contrary. Given that populations who have been targeted by oppressive systems have been systematically excluded from specific professions, disseminating the community cultural wealth² that we’ve gained is an urgent and radical act.

The questions that have been driving this essay are: How do I get that back? How do I invite an intergenerational relationship in my life that is supportive of both of our needs?

So I started reaching out to people who were already in my network while also keeping my eyes open for opportunities that came along.

I’ve had several conversations since, all of the moments of mentorship adding up to a critical mass of mindset shifts and actions that have improved my nonfiction writing, welcomed new connections into my life, and finally (!!) pushed my fiction book project out of limbo.

In the process, not everyone has been eager to help, the silence often standing in for rejection that people feel too awkward about articulating.

That’s OK. One person, or several, saying no doesn’t negate the many people who will eventually say yes. My job is simply to keep asking so I can continue inviting multiple “models of possibility,” as Dr. Bradford says, into my life.

And when I’m not asking, I have margin, however tiny, to offer others too.

In other words, I’ll be keeping the door open.

I hope you’ll follow me in.

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1. James K. Rilling et al., “A Neural Basis for Social Cooperation,” Neuron 35, no 2 (July 2002): 395-405.

2. Tara J. Yosso (2005) Whose culture has capital? A critical race theory discussion of community cultural wealth, Race Ethnicity and Education, 8:1, 69-91, DOI: 10.1080/1361332052000341006