Elevator Pitch Who? – Ashley Valois

I never really had a good elevator pitch. Plus, some elevators move so fast that I get nauseous.

I immigrated from the Philippines to Hawai’i when I was five years old. I showed up to my kindergarten class in the middle of the school year and was nervous about my introduction. I even practiced it the night before. I stumbled through it in the best English I could muster. After I sat down, this group of girls teased me about my accent.

From that day forward, I was insecure about the way I spoke and how I showed up in spaces. It got better as time passed and I started to lose my accent (in retrospect, I have very complicated feelings about this). In Hawai’i, I was a part of the “majority”. It is a state full of BIPOC. We grew up in a culture of love and mutual care for our neighbors. Most people did not speak proper English, most of us spoke Hawaiian Pidgin. I lost an accent and gained another.

Moving from Hawai’i to Massachusetts was a culture shock. I did not look like a lot of people, and I was suddenly conscious of the way I said certain things or how “professional” I acted during networking events. I would stumble over words like “Neosporin” (I still struggle with this). At one of our orientation programs, they mentioned an elevator pitch. It was the very first time I had ever heard of that phrase.

On one of the very first days of our internship program, we talked about having an elevator pitch. Again, I had the same problem. Which parts of my journey did I want to highlight? Do I say I’m from Hawai’i or go to school in Massachusetts? Which parts of my identity do I highlight? Do I sound condescending if I say this? Is it bad if I leave this out?

All of these different thoughts are going through my head in the 15 seconds I am mustering the courage up to go and shake someone’s hand. There was one common denominator in all of these situations that has helped me.

I didn’t know what to expect coming into this program. I was working in an office that wasn’t my home state, so I was cognizant of how I was showing up. I knew there were terms and some lore I probably didn’t know. As time passed, I stopped thinking about those things in my office. Conversations shifted from the weather to our personal stories. Instead of worrying about how I was saying things, I was more conscious of what I was saying. Our conversations ranged from bills that were being passed to what sandwich to make for panini press day (thank you to our Chief of Staff, you’re the best). As time passed, it started feeling like home. I didn’t have to pitch myself to these people. My work spoke for itself, and I have not only gained a supportive network through them but some of my biggest allies.

As my fellow peers and I RSVPed for networking events, we looked for each other in every room. I didn’t have to worry about impressing them because I knew they knew who I was as a person. Even if I was going up to a stranger, I had a friend next to me. That was the common denominator.

I can proudly tell 6-year-old Ashley that she does not need to stress so much about speaking proper English. It’s not about how properly you say things or how big the words you use are, but about the impact you leave on people.

You will enter spaces where you may be the only queer woman of color, just know, you will be okay. I will be alright. The people in this program and in the office I worked for truly have built my confidence in the person I am and the person I will become. I don’t worry much about tripping over words. I have a network of people that I know want me to succeed. I know they will pitch for me even when I’m not in the elevator, especially then.