Author. Broadcaster. Speaker. Advocate. Ally.
Thanks for stopping by and taking time to learn about my journey. What a ride it’s been so far! It hasn’t always been easy, but the lessons I’ve learned along the way have been invaluable and will serve as my guiding light as we try to build a better future for girls and women everywhere.
As a network TV personality, author, and Hall-of-Fame athlete, I’ve been forced to face my fears time and time again. As an advocate, I’ve witnessed the crippling effect that running from our fears creates. My mission now is to teach others the real benefit that fear has in our lives. Here’s a hint: it’s the only pathway to courage. Learn more about that here.
Background:
After working my way up the ladder in the television sports world—hosting and reporting at some of the most recognized events of the past two decades—it was time for a change. While that change wasn’t by my design, it was desperately needed. And, deep down, I knew it.
Being a successful two-sport athlete growing up in Arkansas, pursuing a career in the broadcasting industry was a probable path to follow. I won my first of four Arkansas Women’s State Golf Championships at the age of 14—still the youngest in state history—and was a two-time AJGA First-Team All-American, a two-time All-State basketball player, and the 1992 Arkansas Female Athlete of the Year. But perhaps what I’m most proud of is being the first scholarship player in women’s golf at the University of Arkansas in the post-Title IX era.
Still, it wasn’t until I made it to the network level covering golf exclusively that it finally felt as though I had credibility. Why do we, as women, struggle with our own validity significantly more than our male counterparts?
My television career included stops in Mississippi, Tennessee, Ohio, and then Chicago with the Big Ten Network. But my big break happened in 2014 when I landed what was supposed to be my dream job at Golf Channel. Little did I know then how quickly that would all change. As I learned in just the first few months of my employment, the misogynistic boys’ club culture—that had plagued the network from its early days—was still running rampant throughout the company. Unfortunately, many of those in the executive offices and on the management team only perpetuated these deeply-rooted problems.
Soon after making my story public on January 1, 2021, as detailed in the Washington Post, upwards of 30 women reached out to me privately about their own encounters of mistreatment. Sadly, most of these women have been unable to speak out because of Non-Disclosure Agreements they signed, which was required to receive a severance package when they lost their jobs. Others feared that voicing their struggles would blackball them in the industry moving forward. Trust me, I understand. I know all too well that retaliation is still a very serious threat in the workplace.
My hope now is that by revealing these truths in my memoir, Troublemaker, it unites women and brings about change; that the people running companies who repeatedly make unfair decisions toward women and minorities finally get exposed and are forced to change—or cast aside if unwilling to do so; that HR departments around the world become places that protect the employees, not their employers. It’s astonishing how many people lack any sort of faith in their own HR departments to make their work lives better.
I want Troublemaker to serve as a reminder to these persecutors that we aren’t going away. I want it to empower women who’ve been silenced out of fear of losing their jobs to speak up and to do it loudly. As Elie Wiesel so poignantly once said, “Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”
May we all be (good) “troublemakers” together so that one day books like this will no longer be necessary.