Mark: Alright, Michelle. Shonda Rhimes. Creator of Grey's Anatomy, Scandal. A television titan. What do you think her biggest fear is? Michelle: Based on her shows? Probably a writer's strike or running out of shocking plot twists. A plane crash, maybe? Mark: Close on the plane. But it's actually... giving a speech. Or going to a party. Or just saying 'thank you' for a compliment. That's the paradox we're diving into today. Michelle: Wow. The woman who orchestrates some of the most dramatic, high-stakes dialogue on television is afraid of small talk. I love it. Mark: It’s the central tension in her memoir, Year of Yes: How to Dance It Out, Stand In the Sun and Be Your Own Person. And what's so fascinating is that this isn't just any successful person's story. This is from the first Black woman to create and executive produce a Top 10 network series, a person who was, by all accounts, at the absolute peak of her power. Michelle: Right, but she was hiding in the pantry, literally and figuratively. She talks about playing in the pantry as a kid because it was her safe, creative space. As an adult, her whole life had become a pantry. That's the disconnect that makes this book so compelling.

Mark: Exactly. And the door to that pantry was blown open by six words from her sister on Thanksgiving. Rhimes is listing all these amazing invitations she's received—fancy dinners, important events—and explaining why she said no to all of them. Her sister, while chopping vegetables, just mutters, "You never say yes to anything." Michelle: Oh, that's a brutal thing to hear from your sister on a holiday! That’s a comment that just hangs in the air and ruins the gravy. Mark: It completely undid her. Because it was true. She was a titan in her writing room, but an introvert who said no to almost every public-facing opportunity. So, on her birthday, she makes a vow: for one year, she will say yes to everything that scares her. Michelle: And the universe immediately calls her bluff, right? Mark: Immediately. She gets a call from her alma mater, Dartmouth College, asking her to give the commencement speech. And her description of the terror is so visceral. The writer's block, the panic, the feeling of being an imposter. Michelle: I can see that. But okay, let's be real for a second. Some critics of the book have pointed out that this is a very high-class problem. Saying yes to a Dartmouth speech is a challenge most people would love to have. How does this apply to someone who's just scared to ask for a raise or speak up in a meeting? Mark: That’s a fair point, and I think the book addresses it in a really interesting way. The lesson isn't just "say yes." It's about what happens when you do. The perfect example is her fear of live television. Her publicist, Chris, is constantly begging her to go on Jimmy Kimmel Live. Michelle: And she has a whole list of potential disasters, right? I remember reading this. She was worried about everything from a "Janet Jackson Boob" incident to getting "fear-snot." Mark: Exactly. Fear-snot. She is terrified of the lack of control. For years, she just says no. But in her Year of Yes, the pressure is on. She's in contract negotiations with the network; she needs to be a team player. But she still can't bring herself to do it. Michelle: So what changes? Mark: It's her own creation that saves her. She's watching a scene from Grey's Anatomy where the character Cristina Yang is leaving the show. Cristina gives this incredible speech to Meredith, saying, "He is not the sun. You are." It's about not letting someone else's needs eclipse your own. And Rhimes has this epiphany. Michelle: That she is the sun! Mark: Yes! She realizes she doesn't have to say yes in the way they want. She can define the terms. She calls her publicist and says, "I'll do Kimmel. But it cannot be live. It has to be pre-taped, on my set, on my terms." Michelle: Hold on, so her big "Yes" to publicity was actually a "No" to live TV. That’s the whole game right there. Mark: That's the paradox. The "Yes" wasn't about capitulation; it was about engagement. She agreed to step into the arena, but she demanded the right to choose her own armor. They filmed a special called Behind the Scandalabra, it was a huge hit, and she was celebrated for her bravery. But she did it by setting a powerful boundary. Michelle: I love that. It reframes the whole idea. Saying yes isn't about being a doormat; it's about claiming your seat at the table and then negotiating the terms. It’s about stepping into the sun, but as you said, maybe with sunglasses and a hat. It's not about getting burned. Mark: Precisely. The 'yes' is the start of the conversation, not the end of it. It’s the act that gives you the agency to then say, 'And here’s how we’re going to do it.'

Michelle: That idea of 'yes' as engagement, not capitulation, is so powerful. And it seems like once she started engaging with the world on her own terms, she had to start engaging with herself. That led to even bigger, more personal changes, didn't it? Mark: It absolutely did. The second half of her journey is less about external fears like public speaking and more about internal architecture. It's about deconstructing the life she thought she was supposed to have. And it starts with a moment of pure, unadulterated humiliation. Michelle: Ah, the airplane seat belt. I was waiting for this. Mark: She's on a first-class flight to New York, a symbol of her success. She sits down and... the seat belt won't buckle. It's too short. She's so mortified she can't bring herself to ask the flight attendant for an extender. She just covers her lap with her sweater and prays the plane doesn't crash. Michelle: Wow. It's never the big, dramatic failure that breaks you, is it? It's the small, quiet moments of shame. That's so relatable. Mark: That was her turning point. She realizes she's been saying "yes to fatness," yes to using food as a comfort, as a way to numb herself from the pressures of her life. And she decides to say yes to her health. But what I love is her honesty about the process. She loses nearly 150 pounds, but she says, and this is a direct quote, "Losing weight is not fun. It will never be fun. IT WILL BRING ME NO JOY." Michelle: That is so refreshing! It's the same principle she applies to motherhood. She rejects the perfect narrative. She's not pretending weight loss is some joyous journey of self-discovery, just like she's not pretending to be a perfect mom who bakes homemade goods for the PTA. Mark: You've nailed the connection. She talks about the "Mommy War" and the immense pressure on women to do it all, perfectly and silently. Her "yes" here was saying yes to help. She famously tells reporters who ask how she does it all: "I don't. To do it all, I have Jenny McCarthy." Michelle: Not the celebrity, to be clear. Her nanny, who she calls her "SEAL Team Six." She's basically saying, 'The secret to my success is that I have a support system I pay for.' It's so honest and it dismantles that myth of the effortless superwoman. Mark: It's a radical act of transparency. And that authenticity extends to her "Yes" to play. As a workaholic, she realized she was always saying no when her kids asked, "Wanna play?" One evening, she's dressed in a fancy ball gown, about to leave for a major event, and her little daughter asks her to play. Michelle: The Ball Gown Moment. Mark: The Ball Gown Moment. And in that instant, she says yes. She kicks off her heels, gets on the floor in her couture gown, and plays. She realizes that fifteen minutes of dedicated play is all her kids really want. It's not about quantity; it's about being present. Michelle: All of these "yeses" seem to be about dismantling a different pillar of societal expectation. The perfect body, the perfect mother, the always-on workaholic... Mark: And it all culminates in the biggest pillar of all: the fairy-tale ending. During her Year of Yes, she's in a relationship with a man she calls "The Hunter." Everyone is thrilled for her. She says she got more praise for having a man than for winning a Golden Globe or a Peabody Award. Michelle: That is a depressing, but sadly unsurprising, observation about our culture. Mark: She starts planning the life they're supposed to have. She's talking about weddings, looking at ranches. But she has this sinking feeling. She realizes she's "laying track for a ghost train." She's building a life to please her partner and society, but it's not a life she actually wants. She doesn't want to be married. Michelle: And saying yes to that truth, to herself, means saying no to the relationship. Mark: Exactly. She ends it. And instead of being heartbroken, she's dancing around her living room, overjoyed. She realizes her happy ending isn't a prince. Her happy ending is her work, her kids, her friends, her life, exactly as it is. She is the sun. She doesn't need someone else to be the sun for her.

Michelle: So when you boil it all down, what is the 'Year of Yes' really about? It's clearly not just about saying the word. Mark: It's about permission. That's the real secret of the book. Her sister's comment on Thanksgiving wasn't an accusation; it was an accidental gift of permission. It gave her permission to see herself differently. And then she spent a year learning how to give that permission to herself. Michelle: Permission to be scared and do it anyway. Permission to ask for help and not be a perfect mom. Permission to be healthy, even if the process sucks. Mark: And ultimately, permission to define her own happiness, even if it looks nothing like the fairy tale. The book's critics who say it's a simplistic self-help guide for the privileged kind of miss that point. The 'yes' is just the key. The real, messy, and profound work is what you do once you've unlocked the door to your own life. Michelle: It's a powerful reframe. It makes you wonder, what's the one 'no' you've been living—that quiet, automatic refusal—that's holding you back from your own authentic 'yes'? We'd love to hear your thoughts on this. Find us on our socials and share what resonated with you. Mark: This is Aibrary, signing off.