Translator: Zsófia Herczeg
Reviewer: Peter van de Ven This elephant has incredible strength. She can uproot a tree
with her trunk alone. Yet she will remain in captivity,
held by only a light rope. Despite her ability to easily break away,
she doesn't even try. Why? It starts when she is young. She is first tied down when she is small and not yet strong enough
to break the rope. She'll try at first,
try as hard as she can to break free, and try and try, but eventually realize she can't. Suddenly, something
attaches itself to her that is stronger than any rope
or chain or fence. It's the belief that she can't break free. It's this belief that holds her back - despite her ability. I've had these same beliefs - you may have too - beliefs that held me back, beliefs that led me to feel
unfulfilled in my work, to struggle in my relationships and to live a life that was far
from the one I am living now. It was only when I became
aware of my ropes and actively pulled against them that I found myself
in a different reality. How do you break the ropes
that tie you down? Don't believe everything you think. When I was six years old,
I had a favorite baby sitter, Amber. One morning, my mother told me
we couldn't have her babysit because she didn't have
enough money to pay her. So that afternoon,
I started my first company. I gathered rocks
from around the neighborhood, painted them with my art set, and went door to door,
selling them to our neighbors. That night, it was Amber and I
on the couch together. When I was young, I was bold,
outgoing and fearless. I wore what I wanted (Laughter) or didn't want to wear, (Laughter) guided by my own voice that told me
what would make me happy. I was also in love. His name was Fernando,
and he was wonderful. As with everything else, I wasn't afraid
to grab him with both hands. (Laughter) As I grew older,
this picture started to fade. My exuberance was replaced with timidness, my leadership with conformity, my boldness with fear. I don't think any of us
leave childhood without some ropes despite our parents' best intentions. I grew up with a mother who was determined
to give me the perfect life. Armed with love and good intentions, she did everything for me
to help me be perfect. I'd pack a suitcase
to go on a school trip, and she'd unpack it and repack it
in a more perfect way. I'd be ready to turn in
a school art project, and then she'd add her own
brush strokes to make it better. Later she told me when my choice of boyfriend
or apartment wasn't good enough. Although she just wanted
what was best for me, I stopped knowing what was best for me. An unconscious rope was formed. I shouldn't trust my own voice
and my own ability, and I feared not being perfect. Other ropes attached themselves too. I grew up in a family filled with yelling,
loud voices and strong opinions. To keep the peace,
I learned to stay quiet, to not rock the boat, to become invisible. In school, I came to believe it's more important to blend in
than stand out. And the pain of an early heartbreak led me to hold back in my relationships so I could avoid getting hurt. I'm not good enough. Don't speak up. Don't stand out. Fear failure. These were my ropes. This isn't just my story. Like the elephant, we all come
to believe certain things in childhood that weren't true - or at least are no longer true. But we still live with them
as if they are. If you've ever felt not good enough, alone, unwanted, unloved, invisible, powerless,
like you don't belong - these are your ropes. If you've ever felt
you can't trust yourself, trust others, speak up, stand out, ask for help, let others in,
be accepted as you are - these are your ropes. These ropes hold us back. I found myself defaulting
to others' opinions when I should have been trusting my own, staying quiet when it would have
benefited me to speak up, and blending in when I would have been happier
if I had to courage to stand out. This led me into a series of jobs
that ranged from tolerable to miserable. In one, I hoped I'd get sick
so I could stay home from work. It led me into a series of relationships in which I lacked confidence in myself,
the other person and the relationship. These never worked out. My beliefs affected the way
I perceived the world, which changed how I acted,
which led to a self-fulfilling prophecy. I felt small, and my world became smaller. What we believe has powerful effects. Decades of social psychology
research backs this up. In a study performed at Dartmouth College, an ugly scar was placed
on participants' faces with makeup. They were then sent into a room
for a conversation and asked to report how people
responded to them with this ugly scar. But here is the twist. Right before they left,
the experimenter said, "Hold on a minute! We just
want to touch up your scar a bit." Rather than touch it up,
they removed it entirely. So unbeknownst to them, the participants went
into their conversations, looking completely normal. Despite this, they came back and reported
how awkward their conversations were, how people avoided looking at their scar,
had trouble making eye contact, and were tense and uncomfortable
in the conversation. Their beliefs about their scar
led them to see things that weren't really there and to make meaning of innocent behavior. What could have been
a perfectly normal conversation instead became an awkward one. Their beliefs created their reality. Other studies show the same effect. Highlight an Asian woman's
Asian identity before a math test, she'll perform better. Highlight her female identity, she'll perform worse. Lead a group of men to believe an athletic task is diagnostic
of sports intelligence, white men perform better. Lead them to believe it'd diagnostic
of natural athletic ability, black men do. Give someone a white coat
and tell them it's a doctor's lab coat, they'll perform better
on an attention task than when told it's a painter's coat. In all of these cases, same people, same abilities,
same tasks - different beliefs. And in each case, it was their belief
that raised or lowered their performance. How you see yourself
and your circumstances will affect what you see, how you act, and what occurs as a result. It's almost as if our beliefs
place a virtual reality headset on us, (Laughter) a headset that allows us to see things
that aren't really there and sends us into a false reality. We have these headsets
even when they're miles from the truth. I remember hearing the top model
Cameron Russell share how models, despite having the shiniest hair
and the longest legs, are some of the most physically insecure
people on the planet. And award-winning author
Lidia Yuknavitch shared how she didn't follow up on the literary
representation she was offered early in her career. The reason in her words: "We don't always know
how to hope or say yes or choose the big thing, even when it's right in front of us. It's the shame we carry. The shame of not believing we deserve it." Our headsets have us living
into a false reality. They also cause us
to bump into each other. Once, I'd been dating someone
for a few weeks. We'll call him Ben. We talked every day. Then he went on a work trip. For four days, silence. I didn't hear a word. How would you interpret this? What's the first thought
that pops in your head? My beliefs led me to wonder
what I had done or said to make this once enthusiastic person
change his mind about me. I shared his silence with friends. One, who admits she has
trouble trusting people, was sure he was on this trip
with another woman. (Laughter) Another, who admits
she's afraid of rejection, guessed he was probably upset because I hadn't invited him as my date
to an upcoming wedding. And a third, who has
trouble with commitment, guessed he probably thought
we were moving too fast and was taking some space. Each person saw the same situation
through the lens of their own headset. Who was right? How should I respond? Each of these assumptions
leads to a different response. Moving too fast? - I should pull back. But if he's feeling rejected,
this would just hurt him more. Feeling rejected? - I should up my calls
and invite him to the wedding. But if he thinks we're moving too fast,
this will just push him away further. I was so confused. As I was ping-ponging around
in my own headset while briefly borrowing
some of my friends' headsets, this relationship died a slow death. Are you ready for what
was going on in Ben's headset? He'd been deeply hurt
by a past relationship, was afraid of getting hurt again, and pulled away when his insecurities
got the best of him. It was none of the things
anyone had guessed. Sometimes our headsets
get in the way of our relationships. It took me a long time to learn this. Just as our beliefs can hold us back,
they can also propel us forward. Let's go back to the
scar study for a moment. Imagine the opposite. Imagine the researchers place something
on the participants' faces that leads them to believe
they look beautiful and then remove it
before they go into the social setting. Now, what do you think they believe
about others' responses? How do you think they show up differently? What difference does it make
if you believe you're ugly or gorgeous, good at math or terrible at it, good at sports or not? It seems, a big one. I finally learned this lesson. My headset led me to law school. There my long-held false beliefs
were reinforced: aim for perfection,
follow the crowd, fear failure. This was a familiar path. Then one day, without thinking
much about it, I signed up for a class
outside the law school, called Design Thinking Boot Camp, a class that promised to unleash
my creative potential. I had to design innovative products
and experiences, or more accurately, pull on almost
every single one of my ropes. I had to trust my own voice
because when it comes to innovation, there is by definition no one
to look to for the answers. I had to put myself out there because innovation doesn't come
from playing it safe. And perhaps most importantly,
I had to be willing to fail, to be willing to not be perfect. The best designs came
only after multiple failed attempts. If I wanted to get it right,
I first had to be willing to get it wrong. I struggled in this class because all of the things
that would help me succeed were the same things I believed
for so many years I shouldn't do. I finally gave in to their crazy approach, and the most amazing thing happened. I was free to go, play,
try things, experiment - to live as I had before my ropes. I felt free in a way I hadn't
since I was six years old, and I accomplished things I never
would have imagined possible. I was astounded, proud, liberated - and confused. I wondered if the beliefs
that held me back in this class were the same ones holding me back
in other parts of my life. The seed had been planted. Maybe I shouldn't believe
everything I think. Headset off. To take it off, I just had to realize I had it on. Ropes broken. New beliefs lead to new actions. In my first bold move since I was six, I turned down my offer
to work at a law firm and placed myself in a different reality. I experimented with different jobs
and took on various side projects, saying yes to ones I previously
would have said no to due to lack of experience, trusting I could figure it out. I was still afraid of failure
and taking wrong turns, and sometimes I did. I just no longer let this stop me. Then one day, I took on a 10-week
part-time position, coaching speakers. I fell in love with this work. We're talking Fernando-level love. (Laughter) No longer afraid to grab things
with both hands, I went on to start my own company, helping leaders become
more powerful speakers and to teach a communication
class at Stanford. Particularly meaningful for me is that I now get to give others
what I'd lost for so long - a more powerful voice. I broke other ropes too. When I was self-conscious and shy, I never could have imagined revealing
my insecurities to you on a TED stage. (Laughter) That would have sounded
more like a bad dream. Yet somehow, here I am. This process didn't happen overnight. Each new thought, each new action
built on the one before it until I found myself in a new reality. I still have ropes I'm working to break. My goal is fewer over time. To get there, I remind myself
of the marshmallow challenge. Teams of four are given
20 sticks of spaghetti, a yard of string, a yard of tape
and a marshmallow. The winning team is the one that can build the tallest
freestanding tower they can in 18 minutes. The marshmallow has to be on top. This challenge has been given
all over the world to business-school students, lawyers,
CEOs, CTOs, engineers. Who do you think
are among the top performers? Recent graduates of kindergarten. (Laughter) Here's why. The other groups will take
what they think they know, what they think
is the single right answer, and end up executing
in the wrong direction. In contrast, kindergarteners stay open
to multiple possibilities. They test out different options, they gather information by experimenting
until they find the best way forward. They have fun. What makes us so amazing as children is we live in a world before ropes. In a world before "what's known," when there is "what's possible." In a world before "I can't," when there is "how could I?" In a world before falling
and staying down, when we fall and get
right back up again - undeterred. In a world in which nothing is holding
us back from our full capacity. What the design class was for me,
I hope this talk is for you - a seed that gets you to question
what you've previously accepted as true, that makes you more aware of your ropes, that helps you see
they were always yours to break. No matter who you are or where you are, in this moment, there is the life that you can be living
if you break your ropes. You get there one new thought at a time, one new action at a time until one day, you find yourself
in a new reality. Thank you. (Applause) (Cheering)
Thank you, just watched it. Very inspiring.