“Something’s got to give.”
With those simple, universal words, Serena Williams announced her retirement from professional tennis in Vogue last week. Williams has been one of the most dominant forces in the game for over 20 years. She turned pro at 14; at 17, she won her first singles title; in the decades since, she’s won 23 Grand Slam titles, the most of her era. Williams is a pop culture icon; she’s been on The Simpsons, Law & Order, and America’s Next Top Model. She is one of the most respected athletes on the planet. By most measures, she would appear to be living a particularly charmed life. But there it is, in black and white, “something’s got to give.”
In her retirement announcement, Williams makes painfully clear that this isn’t a choice she particularly wants to make; tennis is in her blood, in her heart, in her soul; it’s defined her since she was three years old; but she recognizes that a choice has to be made between tennis and building her family, because she is a woman. “Believe me, I never wanted to have to choose between tennis and a family. I don’t think it’s fair. If I were a guy, I wouldn’t be writing this because I’d be out there playing and winning while my wife was doing the physical labor of expanding our family.”
Now, this isn’t the only reason Williams cites, but it is the first one, which at least suggests it’s at the forefront of her mind, because of course it is. This isn’t a case of discrimination, by the by; she makes this choice freely because she’s fully aware that the work of pregnancy and the work of tennis aren’t especially compatible, and so the choice between two incompatible worlds was foisted on her – but she’s already got her second act, a VC fund called Serena Ventures, in place.
As a CEO currently in her own second act – that also required me to walk away from a profession I loved, and had fully thrown myself into for virtually all of my adult life – there’s a lot I relate to here: knowing that the work to which you’ve dedicated yourself isn’t an option anymore, not if you want the life you want to live, and recognizing that there is actually something on the other side is equal parts terrifying and thrilling. It can be difficult, debilitatingly difficult, to see beyond the present moment into the possibilities beyond, and critically for Williams, to also see that her future is motherhood, but also much, much more than motherhood: She is in a relatively unique position: wealthy enough to invest, possessed of enough class solidarity to put that money to work serving other women. That’s the power and possibility of starting over on a firm foundation: you don’t have anything to prove, so you can begin to look outside of yourself. That’s the power of a second act.
I’ve been there. Like Williams, your author spent decades building a life, and it’s difficult to give that up, even voluntarily. But it’s also incredibly liberating, to look around at the fruits of what you’ve built to provide for yourself and your family and realizing how much you really have to give and how much good it can do in the world. Serena Ventures is a powerful example of that, stepping up to provide VC money to women-led startups, which doesn’t happen nearly enough in the rarified world of wealth and high society. She, in other words, recognizes the responsibility we have to each other, and that there is more to her life than her passion for battling it out on the court: there is love, and family, and community, and giving.
It is absolutely and indisputably a luxury to get a second act, so nothing here should be construed as affirming otherwise. It is also absolutely and indisputably necessary under capitalism for private investment to work for the benefit of the mass of society it exists within so as to reduce the inequities that produce unconscionable disparities in wealth, and further, it is absolutely and indisputably necessary in this society for women who have the means to raise up women who do not; doing so reduces the incidence of domestic violence and child poverty, among other things, as domestic violence correlates strongly with economic dependence. I’ve said it countless times – it’s basically my catchphrase at this point – but economic power is social power is political power. All of that matters.
But, more than anything, Williams’ message in her retirement essay is simply this: we are not only one thing, nor are we obliged to be. Take that for what you will, but recognize that you, my dear, are surrounded by countless opportunities and possessed of free will to make of them what you are able. We make our choices each and every day to continue living the lives we live, but we don’t have to. You are infinite.
All women are infinite, when we decide to be.
WRITTEN BY
Liz Elting