![]() But thanks to a deeply caring, smart, hardworking team, and a dedicated partner in life (fiancée, actually)*, I’ve gotten better at leadership and am more fulfilled as a person. There are still moments when I find myself putting up a front. I had to actively claim those things out loud. That included embracing who I am as a woman-specifically a gay woman-in a fuller, more realized way. I had to accept the parts of me that felt weak, vulnerable, or offensive. I won’t be so dramatic as to call it a rock bottom, but I did get to a place where I knew I had to make a fundamental shift, or I’d lose myself and what I’d worked for. We made mistakes, and things felt out of control. The company, too, was showing symptoms of this illusion-based thinking. On the inside, I was overextended in every way-mentally, physically, and financially. It was a time of incredible growth, and that was the outward message that I shared with the world. We simultaneously opened a commissary kitchen to help service the restaurants and the events business. Two years later, in 2015, we opened Death & Taxes and a two-story event space called Bridge Club. Two years after those projects opened, we opened Joule, a coffee shop. The problem with defining your self-worth through work is that it can propel you into a cycle in which you avoid something by moving on to a new, all-encompassing challenge. My coping strategy for feeling completely overwhelmed, incapable, unworthy? Open more restaurants. In the years that followed the opening of Beasley’s, Chuck’s, and Fox, I fell into a depression that I kept to myself. I was reluctant to share the reality of how difficult it all was with anyone. As part of my “strength and positivity” narrative, I shouldered the terrifying risks, expensive mistakes, and disappointments. I felt a responsibility to continue with the persona I’d been cultivating for years: warm and relatable and motivated by the work.įor the majority of my time as a business owner, I was a solo operator. I received a lot of attention from the community and beyond. On the outside, I was all smiles and strength. I took on $1.2 million in debt, made up of an SBA loan and private investment-from two women, I might add. Within three months, I went from managing a staff of about twenty-five to a staff of over 100. I was overextended in every way-mentally, physically, and financially. The owner was willing to split it up, but I decided to take the whole space and create three separate concepts. ![]() I found an incredible space, but it was bigger than what I needed. But it wasn’t a complete picture.Īfter Poole’s had been running for a few years, I decided to open a new project, Beasley’s. It was genuine, and it dovetailed with my greatest professional goal of creating spaces that make people feel comfortable. I maintained my easy-to-digest persona, both to guests and to my team. I worked like crazy to make it all come together, pushing myself to lead a scrawny but passionate team, and working alongside them with fervor to create an experience for our guests. Opening my first restaurant, Poole’s Diner, was the hardest thing I’d ever done professionally, but it also cemented my leadership approach. As a defense, I was careful to not to say or do anything that would separate me from others in the room, whether by gender, sexual orientation, or beliefs and opinions. Unlike the experience of many women in our industry, overt sexual harassment was absent from my journey in kitchens, and this was in large part due to the leadership and vision of the people in charge. Throughout my professional life, I have addressed my thoughts on these issues, questions, and labels through action, but Julia’s question showed me that there was a shortcoming in my approach of letting the work speak for itself. ![]() My male peers never have to deal with that. I feel diminishment alongside the pride, because the accolades are contextualized by gender. In these moments, the word “women” feels like a marketing tool. It reminded me of how I feel every time someone asks me, “What’s it like to be a woman chef? What are the challenges of cooking in an industry dominated by men?” It’s how I feel when someone introduces me as “one of the best women chefs in the country” or invites me to cook a “women chefs dinner” alongside a group of badasses I know will work smoothly, neatly, without ego, and in harmony. The last question she asked me was, “How do you identify?” I said confidently, “I’m Ashley Christensen.”Īfterward, my answer haunted me. ![]() We talked about the betterment of our industry, equality, self-care, work-life balance, and love. Who am I? This question has been on my mind since writer and activist Julia Turshen interviewed me for her podcast, Keep Calm and Cook On!.
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