Why I've stopped telling myself to 'be more ambitious'

• As a woman, and a woman of color, I've grappled with the definition of ambition.
• There is a fine line between "be more ambitious" and "I'm burned out."
• Ambition is a very personalized thing, one that shouldn't be easily judged by others. 

"After years of being driven by ambition, I was convinced I used mine up."

I recently read that quote in an article in The Guardian by Rainseford Stauffer about how America is obsessed with ambition, and it stirred a lot of thoughts in my head.

As a woman, and a woman of color, I've grappled with the definition of ambition.

I've always thought of myself as ambitious — a striver who was always thinking about her next step, whether it was making sure my grades were in the top 10%, or graduating college early (mostly to save myself $10,000 on tuition), working at a prestigious company, getting promoted, and having a hard-to-achieve hobby. (I used to run marathons.)

"Be indispensable to others," I told myself.

I thought this was the way to wealth, happiness, and success.

There is a fine line between "be more ambitious" and "I'm burned out."

One lesson I've learned since the pandemic forced a reckoning around work-life balance — and meant not seeing our loved ones for months and working from home if we could — was that more ambition isn't always a good thing.

Ambition is a very personalized thing, one that shouldn't be easily judged by others.

Stauffer's article points out that people have probably heard that they're either too ambitious, or not ambitious enough — or maybe they've heard both! Of course, one's idea of ambition (and how ambitious to be) can be shaped by our gender, race, and class.

In my experiences, many seem to tie the definition of ambition to one of the following things: where (and whether) you went to college, how many hours you work, whether you own a home, whether you are a parent, and how much money you make.

But if you went to an Ivy League school, or work more than 50 hours a week, own a home, or make $200,000 a year, does that mean you're ambitious? Stauffer writes of a 27-year-old student and parent in Maryland who never had been thought of as ambitious or hard-working as a young adult because she had her son in high school — despite earning her associate's degree and pursuing her bachelor's, securing housing for herself and her child, and working.

My colleague Alexandra York writes that more Gen Zers are choosing community colleges and jobs as the cost of four-year degrees continue to rise. And as Gen Z defines (and redefines) its versions of their dreams of success, I think that's something we should all do, no matter our generation. (I am an elder millennial, FWIW.)

An April article in Glamour Magazine UK said "Ambition has long been a complicated word for many many women in the workplace. If it wasn't a dirty word that saw many stereotypically labelled as 'aggressive' or 'demanding', it was a driver that left many burnt out and disillusioned."

Instead, perhaps ambition should be defined as something we strive to achieve that leads to fulfillment. Fortune says that Americans are in the era of quiet ambition — that after the past three years, we're trying to live meaningfully, as opposed to checking things off a made-up success list.

So let's not keep telling ourselves we need to be more ambitious. Let's flip the narrative and tell ourselves that we ARE ambitious, and what we do is enough.