This article is part of Harper’s Bazaar’s Great Motivators package, highlighting the essential voices that are keeping us inspired in 2024.
We need a new way to describe someone who displays the kind of stunning fearlessness, coupled with a certain “I don’t have time for your bullshit” swagger, that Speaker Nancy Pelosi has made her trademark. The word backbone feels inadequate, and certainly, balls is too masculine. And really, could a man have so deftly encouraged President Biden to drop out of the 2024 presidential race, thereby initiating one of the most consequential shifts in American political history? Certainly not in the way Pelosi did. (She never explicitly called on Biden to step down, but many view her appearance on Morning Joe on July 10 as the start of machinations that led him to make the decision less than a week and a half later. “It’s up to the president to decide if he is going to run,” she said in the segment. “We’re all encouraging him to make that decision because time is running short.”)
Love her or hate her—and the Speaker has her vocal detractors, a hazard of the job—it’s undeniable that this is a woman who makes things happen and has been doing so for nearly 40 years in Congress, including serving as Speaker of the House twice and as House Democratic Whip for 20 years. Before entering Congress in her 40s, she was an organizer and Democratic volunteer. She’s also a mother of five. Yes, five. And she’s the author of two books, Know Your Power, which came out in 2008, and the follow-up, The Art of Power: My Story as America’s First Woman Speaker of the House, which came out this past August.
In September, Speaker Pelosi made time to speak to Bazaar from a car to the airport between campaign stops across three states in three days. Below, she shares four life lessons from her nearly four decades in politics.
Lesson #1: Embrace your power.
“Going back 40 years, I wasn’t in Congress; I was a Democratic Party volunteer at the time. I was chair of the California Democratic Party committee that did the delegate selection for the national convention, and I was chair of the host committee to attract the convention to San Francisco. I was talking to Lindy Boggs, who was a grande dame of the Congress from Louisiana, and I said, ‘You know, Lindy, I think I should give up one of my titles. I think I have too many titles of influence.’ And she said, ‘Darling’—in her New Orleans accent— ‘darling, no man would ever say that.’ And then she said, ‘Know your power … and use it.’ And I thought, you know, she’s absolutely right. No man would ever say, ‘Well, I have too many responsibilities with influence, so I will give one up.’ That was for me, as a woman, an awakening.”
Lesson #2: Don’t be afraid to take credit for your work.
“When my children were young, we’d always volunteer at the library. And one day the mayor called me and said he wanted to appoint me to the library commission. He said, ‘I know you love the library. You always volunteered with the kids. So I want you to be on the commission.’ And I said, ‘Have somebody else have that honor. I don’t need it. We’ll do the same volunteering.’ And he said, ‘Nancy, you do the work. You should get the official recognition. Remember that.’”
Lesson #3: Use what you’ve got.
“Your authenticity is your most valuable contribution. There is no one like you, so be yourself. Take inventory of your resources, your education, how you were raised, what you are doing. If you’re a mom, give yourself a gold star for that difficult, challenging, and wonderful task and know that it is a challenge. It’s not for the faint of heart. So, you have to be ready for that.
“I always quote Teddy Roosevelt’s ‘The Man in the Arena’ speech: You’re in the arena, and in the arena, you are no longer a spectator. You have to take responsibility, and that means sometimes you have to take a punch, and sometimes you have to throw a punch. In my case, it’s for the children.”
Lesson #4: Let your clothes help you get your message out. (And make sure they’re clean.)
“I usually just wear what’s clean that day. That’s the standard. You do want to be appropriate; we have a dress code in the Congress. When I first went to Congress, you weren’t even allowed to wear pantsuits on the floor. Of course, that’s all changed. Because of television and media, it plays so much more of a role than it did before. It’s interesting to me that after I’m on TV, people will say, ‘I loved your suit’ or ‘That color looked good.’ And I’m like, ‘Well, do you remember what I said?’
“But it gets their attention, and it does make it fun, and it spells out your individuality. In fact, even some of the men in Congress will say, ‘Is it okay if I tell you my wife likes the suit you had on today? Because she saw you on TV.’ I’ll say, ‘Thank your wife for that compliment.’ But we are in an attraction business—though we are not as successful at being attractive as people in Hollywood or pop culture. But the fact is, if that’s what attracts people’s attention, that’s okay with me. And as long as my outfit is clean, I’m happy to participate.”