Mount Holyoke 1999 Commencement Speech by Anna Quindlen

Imagine you’re standing at the foot of a mountain, a peak shrouded in the mist of expectation and societal pressures. This is the metaphor Anna Quindlen uses in her Mount Holyoke Commencement Speech to describe the daunting pursuit of perfection.

Quindlen, a renowned journalist and novelist, discusses the perils of this climb and suggests an alternative path, one that leads to authenticity and self-acceptance.

Her thought-provoking approach to the topic leaves you questioning: how might your life change if you stopped chasing perfection and started embracing your true self?

Background

Anna Quindlen, an accomplished author, journalist, and opinion columnist, delivered a memorable commencement address at Mount Holyoke College in 1999 that left a lasting impact on all who were in attendance. Known for her insightful commentary on societal issues, Quindlen used this platform to share her reflections on perfectionism, societal expectations, and the importance of embracing one’s true self. Her speech was a powerful critique of the pressures to conform to societal norms, urging the graduates to prioritize self-discovery and authenticity over seeking approval from others.

Drawing from her own experiences and observations, Quindlen challenged the graduates to resist the temptation to mimic others and instead, forge their own paths based on their unique values and aspirations. By advocating for personal fulfillment over external validation, she encouraged them to define success on their own terms rather than conforming to society’s narrow definitions. Quindlen’s message resonated deeply with the audience, inspiring them to embrace their individuality and pursue their personal and professional goals authentically.

Key Takeaways

Here are 4 key takeaways from the Mount Holyoke Commencement Speech by Anna Quindlen that encapsulate the essence of embracing life with authenticity and passion:

• Quindlen encourages graduates to reject societal expectations and pursue personal fulfillment rather than perfection.
• She emphasizes the importance of self-discovery, authenticity, and individuality in defining personal success.
• The speech critiques societal norms and pressures to conform, promoting unique expression in creative endeavors.
• Quindlen uses the symbolism of fingerprints to underscore the value of authenticity and distinctiveness.

Story

In her Mount Holyoke Commencement Speech, Anna Quindlen narrates her personal journey grappling with perfectionism, a struggle that many can resonate with. This narrative serves as a critique of societal norms that impose unrealistic expectations of perfection on individuals.

Quindlen’s speech advocates for a shift from conformity to embracing authenticity and individuality, an encouragement that resonates deeply with graduates embarking on their personal and professional journeys.

Quindlen’s Perfectionism Journey

Reflecting on her own experiences, Anna Quindlen highlighted her journey through perfectionism during her 1999 commencement address at Mount Holyoke College. Quindlen candidly shared her struggles with the unrelenting quest for perfection, a journey marked by self-doubt and external pressures. She argued that perfectionism, far from catalyzing success, often impedes authentic self-expression and personal fulfillment.

Drawing on her personal narrative, Quindlen urged graduates to redefine success on their terms, not by societal standards. She emphasized the importance of embracing individuality and authenticity, freeing oneself from the shackles of perfectionism. Through this persuasive discourse, Quindlen provided a vital perspective, advocating for self-discovery and fulfillment over hollow perfection.

Critique of Societal Norms

Continuing her discourse, Quindlen launched into a pointed critique of societal norms that often serve to entrench the pursuit of perfection, further stifling individuality and authenticity. She argued that these norms, perpetuated by cultural and media influences, place undue pressure on individuals to conform, thus hindering their ability to discover and express their unique identities.

Quindlen highlighted that the relentless pursuit of perfection, often defined by societal standards, can result in personal dissatisfaction and a sense of failure. By challenging these norms and expectations, she urged her audience to redefine success on their terms, aligning it more closely with personal fulfillment and well-being, rather than external validation.

Embracing Authentic Self

Quindlen’s powerful narrative underscored the value of embracing one’s authentic self, offering a compelling exploration of her personal journey towards rejecting societal expectations and harnessing her unique individuality. She persuasively argues that authenticity is often sacrificed in a pursuit of societal acceptance, which she deems a grave mistake. Quindlen champions a view that true fulfillment stems from aligning our actions with our values, not societal norms.

She insightfully critiques the societal pressure to conform and champions the courage to embrace one’s distinctiveness, cogently arguing that authenticity is a keystone of personal and professional success. Her poignant call encourages the audience to value their uniqueness, fostering a culture that appreciates individuality. Ultimately, Quindlen’s speech serves as a powerful reminder of the importance of embracing one’s authentic self.

Learnings

In her insightful 1999 Mount Holyoke College commencement address, Anna Quindlen imparted profound wisdom derived from her rich life experiences. Here are 3 key learnings to explore:

Embracing Imperfection

Quindlen’s reflections provide a powerful testament to the freedom found in accepting one’s flaws:

• Authenticity over perfection: She champions the idea that a fulfilling life is rooted in being true to oneself, rather than striving for an unattainable ideal of perfection.
• Liberation from societal norms: Quindlen encourages graduates to question and move beyond societal pressures that demand conformity and perfection, advocating for a life that embraces the messiness and complexities of individual experiences.
• Valuing self-discovery: The journey toward embracing imperfection is depicted as an essential part of self-discovery, leading to deeper personal insights and fulfillment.

This message resonates deeply, suggesting that true contentment comes from accepting and valuing our imperfect selves.

Defining Personal Success

Quindlen’s insights into success challenge conventional narratives, advocating for a more personal and introspective approach:

• Redefining success: She encourages graduates to define success on their own terms, prioritizing personal happiness and growth over societal benchmarks.
• Pursuit of personal fulfillment: Quindlen posits that success should be measured by one’s own standards of fulfillment and happiness, rather than external achievements or recognition.
• Resisting external validation: The emphasis is on the importance of internal satisfaction and self-approval as the true markers of success, urging a shift away from seeking external validation.

Quindlen’s perspective empowers individuals to seek out what genuinely brings them joy and fulfillment, rather than adhering to predefined paths to success.

Valuing Individuality

The celebration of individuality stands out as a core tenet of Quindlen’s address:

• Embracing uniqueness: She asserts the importance of acknowledging and valuing one’s unique identity, challenging the impulse to conform to societal expectations.
• Creative authenticity: Quindlen advocates for personal and professional endeavors to be driven by authentic self-expression, highlighting the richness that individual perspectives bring to the world.
• Personal fingerprints: Using the metaphor of fingerprints, Quindlen emphasizes the irreplaceable value of each person’s contributions, advocating for a life led by one’s true self.

Quindlen’s call to value individuality serves as a powerful reminder of the importance of staying true to oneself in the pursuit of success and happiness.

Mount Holyoke Commencement Speech

I look at all of you today and I cannot help but see myself twenty-five years ago, at my own Barnard commencement. I sometimes seem, in my mind, to have as much in common with that girl as I do with any stranger I might pass in the doorway of a Starbucks or in the aisle of an airplane. I cannot remember what she wore or how she felt that day. But I can tell you this about her without question: she was perfect.

Let me be very clear what I mean by that. I mean that I got up every day and tried to be perfect in every possible way. If there was a test to be had, I had studied for it; if there was a paper to be written, it was done. I smiled at everyone in the dorm hallways, because it was important to be friendly, and I made fun of them behind their backs because it was important to be witty. And I worked as a residence counselor and sat on housing council. If anyone had ever stopped and asked me why I did those things–well, I’m not sure what I would have said. But I can tell you, today, that I did them to be perfect, in every possible way.

Being perfect was hard work, and the hell of it was, the rules of it changed. So that while I arrived at college in 1970 with a trunk full of perfect pleated kilts and perfect monogrammed sweaters, by Christmas vacation I had another perfect uniform: overalls, turtlenecks, Doc Martens, and the perfect New York City Barnard College affect–part hyperintellectual, part ennui. This was very hard work indeed. I had read neither Sartre nor Sappho, and the closest I ever came to being bored and above it all was falling asleep. Finally, it was harder to become perfect because I realized, at Barnard, that I was not the smartest girl in the world. Eventually being perfect day after day, year after year, became like always carrying a backpack filled with bricks on my back. And oh, how I secretly longed to lay my burden down.

So what I want to say to you today is this: if this sounds, in any way, familiar to you, if you have been trying to be perfect in one way or another, too, then make today, when for a moment there are no more grades to be gotten, classmates to be met, terrain to be scouted, positioning to be arranged–make today the day to put down the backpack. Trying to be perfect may be sort of inevitable for people like us, who are smart and ambitious and interested in the world and in its good opinion. But at one level it’s too hard, and at another, it’s too cheap and easy. Because it really requires you mainly to read the zeitgeist of wherever and whenever you happen to be, and to assume the masks necessary to be the best of whatever the zeitgeist dictates or requires. Those requirements shapeshift, sure, but when you’re clever you can read them and do the imitation required.

But nothing important, or meaningful, or beautiful, or interesting, or great ever came out of imitations.

The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself.

This is more difficult, because there is no zeitgeist to read, no template to follow, no mask to wear. Set aside what your friends expect, what your parents demand, what your acquaintances require. Set aside the messages this culture sends, through its advertising, its entertainment, its disdain and its disapproval, about how you should behave.

Set aside the old traditional notion of female as nurturer and male as leader; set aside, too, the new traditional notions of female as superwoman and male as oppressor. Begin with that most terrifying of all things, a clean slate. Then look, every day, at the choices you are making, and when you ask yourself why you are making them, find this answer: for me, for me. Because they are who and what I am, and mean to be.

This is the hard work of your life in the world, to make it all up as you go along, to acknowledge the introvert, the clown, the artist, the reserved, the distraught, the goofball, the thinker. You will have to bend all your will not to march to the music that all of those great “theys” out there pipe on their flutes. They want you to go to professional school, to wear khakis, to pierce your navel, to bare your soul. These are the fashionable ways. The music is tinny, if you listen close enough. Look inside. That way lies dancing to the melodies spun out by your own heart. This is a symphony. All the rest are jingles.

This will always be your struggle whether you are twenty-one or fifty-one. I know this from experience. When I quit the New York Timesto be a full-time mother, the voices of the world said that I was nuts. When I quit it again to be a full-time novelist, they said I was nuts again. But I am not nuts. I am happy. I am successful on my own terms.

Because if your success is not on your own terms, if it looks good to the world but does not feel good in your heart, it is not success at all.

Remember the words of Lily Tomlin: If you win the rat race, you’re still a rat.

Look at your fingers. Hold them in front of your face. Each one is crowned by an abstract design that is completely different than those of anyone in this crowd, in this country, in this world. They are a metaphor for you. Each of you is as different as your fingerprints. Why in the world should you march to any lockstep?

The lockstep is easier, but here is why you cannot march to it. Because nothing great or even good ever came of it. When young writers write to me about following in the footsteps of those of us who string together nouns and verbs for a living, I tell them this: every story has already been told. Once you’ve read Anna Karenina, Bleak House, The Sound and the Fury, To Kill a Mockingbirdand A Wrinkle in Time,you understand that there is really no reason to ever write another novel. Except that each writer brings to the table, if she will let herself, something that no one else in the history of time has ever had. And that is herself, her own personality, her own voice. If she is doing Faulkner imitations, she can stay home. If she is giving readers what she thinks they want instead of what she is, she should stop typing.

But if her books reflect her character, who she really is, then she is giving them a new and wonderful gift. Giving it to herself, too.

And that is true of music and art and teaching and medicine. Someone sent me a T-shirt not long ago that read “Well-Behaved Women Don’t Make History.” They don’t make good lawyers, either, or doctors or businesswomen. Imitations are redundant. Yourself is what is wanted.

You already know this. I just need to remind you. Think back. Think back to first or second grade, when you could still hear the sound of your own voice in your head, when you were too young, too unformed, too fantastic to understand that you were supposed to take on the protective coloration of the expectations of those around you. Think of what the writer Catherine Drinker Bowen once wrote, more than half a century ago: “Many a man who has known himself at ten forgets himself utterly between ten and thirty.” Many a woman, too.

You are not alone in this. We parents have forgotten our way sometimes, too. I say this as the deeply committed, often flawed mother of three. When you were first born, each of you, our great glory was in thinking you absolutely distinct from every baby who had ever been born before. You were a miracle of singularity, and we knew it in every fiber of our being.

But we are only human, and being a parent is a very difficult job, more difficult than any other, because it requires the shaping of other people, which is an act of extraordinary hubris. Over the years we learned to want for you things that you did not want for yourself. We learned to want the lead in the play, the acceptance to our own college, the straight and narrow path that often leads absolutely nowhere. Sometimes we wanted those things because we were convinced it would make life better, or at least easier for you. Sometimes we had a hard time distinguishing between where you ended and we began.

So that another reason that you must give up on being perfect and take hold of being yourself is because sometime, in the distant future, you may want to be parents, too. If you can bring to your children the self that you truly are, as opposed to some amalgam of manners and mannerisms, expectations and fears that you have acquired as a carapace along the way, you will give them, too, a great gift. You will teach them by example not to be terrorized by the narrow and parsimonious expectations of the world, a world that often likes to color within the lines when a spray of paint, a scrawl of crayon, is what is truly wanted.

Remember yourself, from the days when you were younger and rougher and wilder, more scrawl than straight line. Remember all of yourself, the flaws and faults as well as the many strengths. Carl Jung once said, “If people can be educated to see the lowly side of their own natures, it may be hoped that they will also learn to understand and to love their fellow men better. A little less hypocrisy and a little more tolerance toward oneself can only have good results in respect for our neighbors, for we are all too prone to transfer to our fellows the injustice and violence we inflict upon our own natures.”

Most commencement speeches suggest you take up something or other: the challenge of the future, a vision of the twenty-first century. Instead I’d like you to give up. Give up the backpack. Give up the nonsensical and punishing quest for perfection that dogs too many of us through too much of our lives. It is a quest that causes us to doubt and denigrate ourselves, our true selves, our quirks and foibles and great leaps into the unknown, and that is bad enough.

But this is worse: that someday, sometime, you will be somewhere, maybe on a day like today–a berm overlooking a pond in Vermont, the lip of the Grand Canyon at sunset. Maybe something bad will have happened: you will have lost someone you loved, or failed at something you wanted to succeed at very much.

And sitting there, you will fall into the center of yourself. You will look for that core to sustain you. If you have been perfect all your life, and have managed to meet all the expectations of your family, your friends, your community, your society, chances are excellent that there will be a black hole where your core ought to be.

Don’t take that chance. Begin to say no to the Greek chorus that thinks it knows the parameters of a happy life when all it knows is the homogenization of human experience. Listen to that small voice from inside you, that tells you to go another way. George Eliot wrote, “It is never too late to be what you might have been.” It is never too early, either. And it will make all the difference in the world. Take it from someone who has left the backpack full of bricks far behind. Every day feels light as a feather.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Anna Quindlen’s commencement address at Mount Holyoke College provides a compelling critique of societal norms while championing the significance of self-discovery and authenticity. Her remarks serve as a potent reminder for graduates to prioritize personal fulfillment over societal expectations.

The symbolism of fingerprints underscores the importance of individuality in the pursuit of success. Thus, the speech presents an enduring message that resonates with today’s graduates, encouraging them to embrace their unique paths in life.

You can read the rest of the speech collection here:

Speech collection