Welcome! I’m glad you are here! You most likely know me as the Founder of Girls on the Run International. I founded the organization in 1996 with thirteen girls in Charlotte, NC. Since then, thanks to thousands of volunteers, supporters and an amazing staff at our Girls on the Run Headquarters, the organization has expanded to every state in the US and has served over 2.5 million girls.
(If you’d like more info about how the whole thing got started, check out The Girls on the Run Origin Story.)
Since leaving the organization in 2013, I have gone on to do lots of things. I worked on Capitol Hill, traveled across the country listening to people share their stories, wrote some books, founded another organization that teaches the art of profound listening, advocated (and still do) at a very personal level, for people experiencing home and food insecurity, and somehow managed to launch two awesome kids.
In other words, I have lived and continue to live a big, unapologetic life.
Over these many years, I’ve witnessed how confidence, collaboration, and connection can shift the trajectory of a life and an organization. What began as a grassroots effort became a national movement, impacting millions and challenging cultural narratives about strength, leadership, and belonging.
I suppose I’m at an age now, where the rubber hits the road…where I tell you I’ve finally arrived…that I live a full life outside the “Girl Box”, a phrase I coined back when I started the program, that describes the imaginary place many girls and women go where they shrink themselves to “fit in” to expectations and worn out stories, but honestly that’s just not how it is. I am closer to it, but I’m not sure I will ever get there. I’m not sure any of us do.
I do know that most days I move through life with an ease I couldn’t have imagined in my younger days, free to come and go as I please. My small rental home reflects that freedom. I’ve decorated it with bright colors, orange, pink, turquoise and yellow. I’ve filled it with so many plants; one entire wall is covered by them. Every piece of furniture, except for a couple of things I purchased at Ikea, came from the Goodwill Store right around the corner. I love that it’s all been used, the scratches and scars make it feel more honest. There’s a small altar I’ve created that rests in my living room—a poem from my mother, the wobbly, wonderful pottery my kids made when they were little, a photo of Helen and me we took at Chucky Cheese, a wooden vase holding a single eagle feather, a tiny sculpture from my friend Bob, and an old bag of Proud Mary coffee with a few beans still rattling inside, reminding me of that precious morning on a road trip to Marfa, TX when my adult son made me coffee at a roadside truck stop.
But the truth is: I still struggle. Less than before, but yes, the struggle remains. The news, the politics, the cruelty of it all, even the privilege I live with. The way we chisel down the beautiful essence of a person into sound bites, easy hatred, and tiny little words that harm, that kill.
Of course, we must never close our eyes to these things. They exist. I still work in that world and do so because it matters.
But over the last few years, especially the last six, when I finally had the time and space to heal and learn to really love myself, I’ve noticed something shifting. If I try hard enough, I can sometimes see beneath the cruelty and the labels to the wounds that created them. I can recognize how the boxes impact all of us.
I’ve written a book about this journey, “Running Free: Beyond the Girl Box”, scheduled for launch in September. If you’d like to receive information on this or reach out to learn more about my public speaking, facilitation of team-building workshops/retreats, and coaching, you can subscribe here or just email me at molly@mollybarkerspeaks.com.
