We were lucky to catch up with Brittany Micek recently and have shared our conversation below.

Brittany, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Before we talk about all of your success, let’s start with a story of failure. Can you open up about a time when you’ve failed?

Every morning, at 5:30 am, I lace up my Adidas Boston 12 running shoes and head out the door. I know I shouldn’t but I start most of my morning runs along the same route. Just two blocks from my Bed Stuy, Brooklyn apartment is a mural by resident artist, Khidr Joseph. It is a simple message, stenciled in bright white paint over the quotidian green scaffolding so common in “renewal” areas across the city—“Learn(ing) t(hr)o(ugh) fail(ure).” Simple. Deep. Some mornings, the message speaks to me, reminding me to “Learn to fail.” There is grace in every fall. Some mornings as I struggle to get out the door, struggle against work deadlines, to-do lists, life — the message humbles me, “Learning through failure.” There is a recovery and resilience, I haven’t yet known.

My story of failure, like many, is one of heartbreak, disappointment, and embarrassment. It is also a story full of poise, promise, and possibility. Of course in the thick of it, I couldn’t see, but that is also part of the learning. You won’t always be able to see how far you’re going to fall and the same is true for the visibility on where it will take you.

In the middle of a hot summer, I decided to leave my husband. I had stood in the absolute shadows of a great man and I could no longer stand the shade. The higher I placed him on a pedestal the lower I sank and the more I shrank. At the time I couldn’t see myself — I have advance degrees, have traveled the world, speak two languages, a passion for the arts and philanthropy, a successful career — yet, I defined myself completely by the measure of a man. This was not who I was, but who was I? I didn’t know and so I ran (not literally but we’ll get to that later). I packed up my things while he was on a business trip to France and moved to a place and space of my own. My marriage was a failure.

Shortly after leaving my marriage, the world entered a fever dream — the pandemic, racial and social injustice, blacklash policies, reversals of historical protections. I knew I had to do something. Borne out of a place where I had no voice (my marriage), I founded an organization rooted in racial justice. Meditating for Black Lives started as a way to incorporate meditation, a spiritual practice that helped me touch my internal wounds and begin to heal, and collective community healing with the belief we are all suffering in conjunction with the historical notion of the sit-in. Every Saturday in 2020, I would head to my local park and lead thousands of people in a 20 minute guided meditation. It was really simple, we’d sit as a demonstrative protest against the collective pain that the world was feeling and ground ourselves in community for the individual suffering we experienced in response to that global pain. The people came. We sat for Breonna Taylor, we sat for Elijah McClain, Sandra Bland, Oscar Grant. We centered black lives. We centered black womxns lives. It was amazing. Eventually the organization picked up momentum and I became so overwhelmed. I devoted everything and all of me to keeping the organization afloat. Could I do this full time? Would I survive—mentally, financially? After a year, I made the decision for my own well-being to put my organization to rest. I counted it as yet another failure.

The return to normal is such an interesting phrase — because there really is no such thing. There is nothing like the second before or to come. I think of failure in the same way. Something didn’t work out and now, if you’re lucky you can open your eyes to see and you carry with you new information, a bit of wisdom, respect, understanding. In leaving my husband, I found my voice, or at least a voice just loud enough to lead thousands of people to a deeper sense of truth and understanding. In setting aside my organization, I imparted with more confidence and connections than ever before.

In the space away from the organization, I started taking better care of myself. I rediscovered my love for distance running (something I had picked up in graduate school but stopped shortly after getting married). I run marathons now and enjoy the routine of corporate finance. I’m on track to being a creative director before I turn 40 in one of the most conservative and homogenous industries. I set goals and fail.

I had hoped to qualify for the Boston Marathon in my marathon debut on one of the hardest marathon courses. I ran a 3:51 at the NYC Marathon in 2023, just 26 minutes shy of my goal. I embrace the learnings failure brings as well as the glory and redemption along the way.

I just completed my first race of the 2024 season on March 17. I ran a 1:37 half marathon. On pace to meet my BQ time this year. This year I know better how to train, fuel, rest and recover. The learning: life is kind of like a marathon (cliche, I know). You have moments where you have to dig deep and push hard. You have to be consistent and disciplined. You have to show up everyday for yourself. That is where mental toughness is built. That is where resilience forms. You have to make sure you feed yourself to endure. This can be emotionally, spiritually, playfully. You need to know when to take a break and extend grace and compassion, so you can adapt the learnings to the next cycle of life.

I still meditate daily.

Brittany, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

When I was a little girl growing up eight miles from the Mexican border in a little suburb of San Diego, CA, I wanted to be three things: an oceanographer, a figure skater, or a writer. I read and wrote a lot growing up and so it seemed fitting that I would study journalism with a minor in political science in San Francisco. I was a thinker and San Francisco is where all the big thinkers were — there or New York City. I studied English literature in graduate school in New York City and began an impressive career in content marketing at several startups. Content as a creative service — i.e., content as design was in its nascency and so I spent my early career in the business side of most organizations, either working in marketing or product. I was able to leverage that early experience to speak to brands and businesses on their terms, while tapping into my natural and carefully cultivated ability to tell stories that resonate with customers and users.

By skill and craft, I am a classically trained writer. In practice, I am a unicorn, shaped like a lowercase ’t’. The vertical line being the gamut of my craft, with the top portion representing the creativity and mindset to generate ideas and connect dots while the lower half is my ability to execute and deliver. The horizontal portion represents my understanding of many different aspects of business and is shaped by my professional and personal experience. When I am at my best, I’m the heart of the “t” or the intersection where these vertices meet.

I think that little girl from San Diego would be proud.

Let’s talk about resilience next – do you have a story you can share with us?

After many years of working at startups and founding my own organization, I believed — and still do — that I was ready to be a content director at a major corporate tech company after two years. On paper, I am more than qualified. I am an exceptional thinker and provide incredible value to the company. Yet, I knew I faced tremendous barriers being one of the only black employees and having even fewer representation in leadership. I worked hard at mid year and end of year and when it came time for promotions, my manager told me that I was not even considered — that my name wasn’t even submitted. You can imagine the anger and frustration I felt. However, I quickly realized that this wouldn’t be the first or last time I would be rejected. In this moment, I needed to “raise my gaze.” What was my bigger picture? How would I get there? Would this no stop me? Asking these questions, I recalled personal battles that felt gargantuan compared to a manager not recognizing my worth. I also recalled how I persevered. How I succeeded in the face of that adversity because I didn’t allow my gaze to narrow on the “no”. In the end, I was able to advocate for the things that I needed (and a new manager) to get me where I need to go.

Looking back, are there any resources you wish you knew about earlier in your creative journey?

Maybe this isn’t a resource but it is definitely some of the best bit of advice I have read in a long time. In the book Unapologetically Ambitious by the very accomplished and successful sister, Shellye Archambeu she gives the perfect guidance on how to secure that mentor and leverage the relationships and connections you currently have. I wish I had this book earlier in my career.

Contact Info:

• Website: brittanyomicek.com/meditatingforblacklives.org
• Instagram: brittanyomicek
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/brittany-micek/