What Was Your Flex Today?
It started on November 7, 2019. We were in the home stretch of a Trump presidency that grew worse by the day. Stories of Black people dying continued to pile up in the news, and we were all generally tired. Myself especially. Twitter was just exacerbating the situation.
I decided that I wanted to try and liven up my Twitter feed. I asked a straightforward question. “What was your flex today?” I wanted to hear all the amazing things my small but active following had been doing in the midst of what felt like anarchy (this was before 2020 completely showed its ass).
For the uninitiated, a flex is something you are particularly proud of and want to show off. It can be something you accomplished or something material. If you are proud and care to show it off, it’s a flex.
I have to rewind a few weeks prior to that first tweet to truly give credit where credit is due. I was fortunate enough to have been invited to a brunch party hosted by April Reign, whom I had yet to meet in person or, for that matter, have an actual conversation. Friendships built online are odd that way.
Sidenote: In the short time I have known April, her ability to grind while still being wholly available to those around her astounds me. On more than one occasion, I have reached out for some favor or another, an interview when I was trying to impress an editor, a boost of a tweet when I needed some extra eyeballs. April’s graciousness given her station amazes me.
When I arrived at the event, I was astounded by the level of Black excellence I was surrounded by. Scientists, writers, videographers, cartoonists, all of whom were my age or younger. This is before we count my New York Times Bestselling wife to be and my brother, who is, first and foremost, an inspirational survivor.
I honestly felt like a fish out of water. How could I be in the company of such greatness? I felt a bit like an imposter.
April called for all of us to take our seats. The event was at a restaurant in Brooklyn. We took up half of a semi-private room—the other half by a birthday party. Funny enough, folks from both events happened to know each other. It’s a small Black world.
Best brunch ever.
April got our attention and said a few words. The gist was that she was going to make sure that everyone would know everyone else by the end of the afternoon. She didn’t want folks cliquing off with familiar faces. We would change seats frequently and converse with as many people as possible. April’s icebreaker? Everyone would stand and answer the following questions.
Name?
Pronouns?
Occupation?
What would your mother say about you?
What was your flex this year?
What was your flex this year? This was a tough one for me. To know me is to know that I often spend my time with my head down, often working with Sisyphean effort to keep my head above water seemingly. The idea of taking time to inventory my flexes seemed like a luxury I couldn’t afford. As each person took their turn, my self-doubt rose. I didn’t know what my flex was. Nothing felt particularly grand. It was finally my turn.
Shane Paul Neil.
He/him.
Content Creator, mainly writing and podcast production.
My mother would most likely brag about how amazing my son is.
My flex this year? I have started a business with my partner/girlfriend based on our creative endeavors, I’m writing my first feature article after about three years on the sideline, and I’m in love.
The last of the people took their turns, and we all mingled as per April’s orders. To my surprise, people were engaging me in my flexes and me in general. People wanted to know about my writing. People asked to reach out about podcasting questions.
I made some genuine connections that night. But more importantly, I learned to do better with taking inventory and appreciating my own accomplishments. I wanted to carry this lesson over to others.
What was your flex today? When I first tweeted this question I got no responses. I asked again the next day, and the next and the next, and the responses grew.
“My outline for my pilot is done. 15 pages in less than a week!”
“I got cash out of the ATM without my card.”
“Crushing my annual performance review: ratings from ‘strong’ to ‘exceptional.’ Professional Badassery.”
I was struck by the range of things people not only accomplished on a particular day but also recognized that it was worth trumpeting.
I particularly love when someone randomly tweets their flex and “@” me. It means they are taking their own inventories.
I try to ask as often as I can. Sometimes there will be no response other times; there will be small threads of responses. Someone will usually ask what my flex was in the process. Sometimes it will be something I shot or wrote. Other times it will be that I managed to get some exercise. But even when nobody is asking, engaging the conversation prompts me to look at the small feats I and those around me have accomplished.
These tweets have never gone viral. That was never the point. I tried hashtagging #WhatWasYourFlexToday briefly as a means to find responses easily, but ultimately it seemed disingenuous. I don’t want the question to take center stage but rather the people who, for a moment, deserve one instead.
After a year of asking, “What was your flex today” I’ve learned a few things about myself and people in general.
We don’t see general living as a flex. Early on, people reply, “I got out of bed” or something to that effect. We don’t understand just how huge of an accomplishment that can be. Getting up to do the thing again when you really don’t want to isn’t just a win; it’s often THE win.
Even when we flex, we often don’t do it right. People will often say they started a business, created a work of art, or cooked something delicious but offered no links and no pics. We either forget or are afraid of pointing directly at the thing we are proud of. I often have to remind folks that it is ok to do some shameless self-promotion with their flex.
People ultimately want to see people do well. Sometimes there is the altruistic like joy in seeing others succeed (I personally don’t believe in altruism, but that's a story for another day). But more often, our small and big wins remind those around us that they too can and are winning in their own right. I have friends who are louder and prouder of themselves than I will ever be, but seeing them helps lift the ceiling on my own self-love.
So, as corny as it sounds, get in the habit of tooting your own horn. Even if it is just to yourself in the beginning. Talk some shit. It’s actually ok.
As the old saying goes, your floor is someone's ceiling. You are an inspiration to someone, whether you know it or not.
