To Build Grit, Go Back to Basics
An interview with Shannon Huffman Polson by Curt Nickisch
Concepts like resilience and grit have been popular in recent years. Shannon Huffman Polson knows all about the kind of mental and emotional fortitude that so many experts say people need—but few people actually have. She was one of the first women to pilot the Apache attack helicopter in the United States Army, has launched a successful corporate and consulting career, and is the author of The Grit Factor: Courage, Resilience, and Leadership in the Most Male-Dominated Organization in the World.
In this interview, she discusses how to develop grit and how it has helped her advocate for herself as a woman in an industry of mostly men.
CURT NICKISCH: First and foremost, what does grit mean to you?
SHANNON HUFFMAN POLSON: The way that I have defined it over the years is “a dogged determination in the face of difficult circumstances.” Angela Duckworth of the University of Pennsylvania has defined grit as “passion and perseverance toward long-term goals,” which I also love. I will say that in today’s context—where the future is very uncertain, where the horizon is especially unclear, and where we’re all working in these environments that are much more ambiguous—I have a slight preference for my own definition.
Tell me about that experience of facing obstacles as an aspiring pilot in the U.S. Army.
I certainly didn’t go into it understanding the challenges. I went into the military, and into army attack aviation, because I wanted to do something hard and exciting. And I was 21 years old. I don’t know what you know when you’re 21, but fortunately not enough to dissuade you from what might lie ahead.
I approached it more with enthusiasm for the opportunity and the job. Of course, once I got into that position and saw the challenges I would face, especially as one of the first women in the role, it was a very different scenario than any that I had found myself in prior to that. It had a lot less support and assurance than I had grown up with, for sure.
What did you encounter along the way?
When I was at Duke University, I was an English major and in the Army ROTC. The assumption was that I would then receive my commission in the National Guard going forward. At the end of my senior year, I drove out to Raleigh, North Carolina, to meet with the state aviation officer, where I would receive my assignment for the years ahead. I remember reporting to a colonel, who was probably in his late thirties. It seemed like he was behind this immense desk that was as wide as the room, with shiny windows going up the back. I stood at attention and saluted, and tried not to shake too much. He had me take a seat, and we exchanged a couple of pleasantries in a very formal sort of a way, before the exchange that I would never forget. He stopped midsentence, leaned back in his chair, looked down his nose at me, and said, “You realize, cadet, that you will never fly an attack aircraft.”
I recognized his comment for what it was meant to be, which was small and mean, because at the time, in 1993, attack aircraft weren’t open to women to fly. But I also understood in my extremely nascent military career that there are times when the only thing you can say is, “Yes, sir.” So I said, “Yes, sir,” and I went back to the Duke University ROTC detachment and requested a transfer out of the National Guard and onto active duty. Later that spring, Congress lifted the combat exclusion clause for aviation. Suddenly everything in the inventory was open to women and men to fly, and I reported to Fort Rucker later that year.
It is a moment where a lot of people would stop, right? Or accept the powers that be?
A big part of what begins the grit-forming process is deciding that you are going to be the person who is in charge of your own story. You are going to be the person that decides what your narrative will be. You can’t choose the raw material, but you can decide how you’re going to use it. Many people don’t do that.
How do you take that first step?
It’s really about focusing on that end goal and what your purpose is. When you’re focused on that core purpose—that you are going to succeed, that you are going to contribute in this meaningful way—that allows you to not focus on the obstacles as much. It’s a choice of where you put your focus.
Why is focusing on your own story so important?
The way that we understand information really is in the form of a story. Thinking back to make sense of our own stories—to understand the places where we grew, to understand our strengths, to understand where we overcame obstacles—becomes part of how we can approach future challenges or even current ones. It’s thinking back and saying, “Hey, look at how I got through this really hard time. I either developed that strength or I realized there was a way around this.” Doing that can help you find ways to negotiate the challenges that you’re facing today, and that’s critical work.
You aren’t just making sense of the raw material that you’re given. You’re looking at how you turned the raw material of our life into your story. Because you get to choose. You get to say either, “I was a victim of this circumstance” or “I was able to overcome this. I was able to push through.”
When you do that work, and you decide what that arc of that story of your life is going to be, then you can borrow from the strengths of that, understanding your values and how to go forward in connection with those values in a way that strengthens you for what you might be facing today or what you will be facing in the future.
You know your own story very well. How do you help people figure out what their story is, so that they know what to commit to?
There are a number of tactical exercises that I suggest. One of them is to start with what is sometimes called a journey line, or a lifeline. Look at your experiences, really own and understand the raw material of them, and get that down on paper. Then start to understand how that relates to and informs your core values and your core purpose.
There’s another exercise that I love for drilling down into core purpose. This is pretty deep internal work; it’s not back-of-the-napkin analysis. It requires time and space for you to think about—and to think about again and again. The exercise was developed by Toyota and is called the Five Whys. Ask yourself why you’re doing something—not one time but five times. Drill down into that deep, deep why that’s not specific to the job, that’s not specific to the task, but that is truly connected to who you are as an individual. You’ve got to make that strong connection that is uniquely yours before you can apply it to whatever the task is, whatever the company is, whatever the company’s missions and values and goals are. For me, it’s service.
Was there a time in your military career where you faced obstacles, and recalling that core idea of service helped you get through them?
The best example I have for this is maybe one of the least exciting, but also one of the most relatable. When I first was assigned to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, that was my very first duty assignment, and I reported when I was 23 years old.
I was qualified in the Apache helicopter. I was excited. I was ready to fly and to lead. But when I arrived at Fort Bragg, in the 229th Aviation Regiment, there were two battalions. There were 120 male pilots, and I was the only female pilot. I was assigned not to a platoon where I would be flying and using the craft that I had just learned, but as the assistant to the assistant operations officer.
A desk job.
Exactly. And not just typing up, for example, operations orders where you’re getting into the meat of things, but writing the appendices to the operations orders.
I was brought up believing that you do the best job you can, so I did the best job I could. I had great feedback, and I went to the captain I was working for and said, “Listen, sir. I’m going to keep doing the best job I can at this work, but I wonder when a platoon might open up.” That captain looked at me and said, “Lieutenant, the army doesn’t owe you anything.”
I kept on doing my work, and then at some point we were all brought in on a Saturday to do work together as an operations shop for no apparent reason. The major that we all worked for looked over at me and joked, “Don’t worry, Lieutenant, you’ll be married by the time you’re 25.”
I did not say, “Yes, sir,” as I had to that colonel back in Raleigh. But I went to see the major the next week, and I said, “Sir, I’m going to keep doing the best job I can at what I’ve been assigned, but I think that I can do more.” And he looked kind of surprised. Then he assigned me one additional duty after the other. And finally I took that first flight platoon.
But I think back on those times, and I think about the people and companies I have the chance to talk to across the country and around the world. I talk to people all the time who don’t know how to push back when somebody says, “The army doesn’t owe you anything,” or “You’ll be married by the time you’re 25.” They just think that’s where they’re stuck.
I really believe that there’s an opportunity for us to push through those things by owning our story, by drilling down into core purpose, and by learning to have the courage to ask for what you want, and to ask again and again. Every single opportunity that I had in the military, I had to ask for. I had to earn it first, of course, and then I had to ask for it. And that’s an important lesson in that whole process.
How do you start practicing grit? How do you start becoming better at it?
To get better at doing hard things, you need to do hard things. It sounds almost trite to say, but you take one step. You challenge yourself a little bit more the next time, and a little bit more the next time, and a little bit more the next time. That truly is how you build up what is essentially a muscle for grit and resilience. And it’s something that is accessible to every single one of us.
Adapted from “To Build Grit, Go Back to Basics” on HBR IdeaCast (podcast), September 1, 2020.