Read an excerpt from my upcoming book, "Fired Up"

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Announcements:

• I’d love to see you on my book tour for Fired Up: Click here to see if I’m coming to a city near you.

• Doors to Firestarter University close on June 17: To join this year-long online course based on my book, preorder Fired Up and then follow the steps to register for free!

Bonfire

After my marriage ended, I knew my life would change, but I was surprised by how many of my relationships ended when friends or family couldn’t understand or accept my decision to divorce. To make it through that period, I had to develop an entirely new network of support. These were friends who understood not just who I was when we met, but where I wanted to go. They respected and supported the life I was building for myself. Their support, which I relied on to make it through the messy middle of my divorce, was my first taste of being a part of a bonfire.

As you live authentically in your fire and build a support system, you’ll also grow a bonfire of like-minded women living on fire—a bonfire of women who understand you better, feel closer, and are more trusted than some of the previous relationships in your life. Unlike your firestarter team, which is made up of people who can offer you a variety of support and who may or may not share the passion for your fire, the women you build a bonfire with share the desires, values, and commitment you pour into your fire. The friendships you find through your fire are authentic; when you’re living on fire, you’re showing up as your true self, not as someone other people want you to be.

Before starting Moms Demand Action, I’d spent my career rising through the ranks of mostly male-dominated companies and fields, and those jobs required me to be my most assertive and aggressive self. I held my ground in meetings, refusing to let men interrupt me or steal my ideas. I wore power suits and pearls. I perfected resting bitch face before it was even a thing. This was a world that was driven by all the things your fire is not: purpose, happiness, and achievement. The work I did was about results, not process. And it was that energy that I led with when I started Moms Demand Action: direct, determined, and even a little dogmatic. That masculine energy definitely helped me get Moms Demand Action off the ground, but it also came at a cost. There are times when I wonder what Moms Demand Action’s growth might have looked like if I was able to show up as a softer version of myself and still trust that I would be taken seriously. Instead, when people told me I wasn’t capable, qualified, or ready to start an organization, I refused to listen and threw sharp elbows at anyone who stood in my way. But then, when I found myself surrounded by compassionate, selfless volunteers and gun violence survivors who served the organization out of the goodness of their hearts, it softened me. I realized leadership wasn’t just about strength; it was about the ability to be vulnerable. It wasn’t about making people do something because they had to, but because they wanted to. In this new environment, I quickly realized I would have to strip away all the armor I’d acquired and lead with not just authority, but authenticity.

Over time, I learned to be vulnerable about what I was struggling with professionally and personally, which let others see me as a human, not just the impenetrable force trying to take down the gun industry. I made it a practice to express my gratitude—not just for volunteers’ time and talents, but for being allowed to lead them. In turn, volunteers gave me their support and friendship. When one of my kids was diagnosed with an eating disorder during the pandemic and all the in- patient facilities I’d called were full, a volunteer helped find my kid a spot in a facility in Denver. After that, I got on the phone with every volunteer struggling with the same issue in their family and told them what I’d learned. When one of my kids graduated, a volunteer helped them get a job. I wrote endless recommendation letters for other volunteers and their kids. Everywhere I went during my travels, volunteers gave me little gifts and cards to thank me for my leadership. I made weekly calls thanking volunteers for their service. This reciprocal dance became an emotional connection that fueled our collective bonfire for years—we all felt seen, heard, understood, and valued. It’s one of the most healing things I’ve ever experienced, and it broke me open.

One of the first women who became part of my bonfire was Lucy McBath. Lucy and I connected just months after her son, Jordan, was shot to death at a gas station by a white man who said her teen’s car radio was too loud. Because Lucy grew up with parents who were civil rights activists, Lucy’s instinct shortly after Jordan was murdered was to become an advocate to help protect other people from experiencing the same pain she and her family were feeling. Lucy and I connected on a different level than I had ever connected with any friend in my former, pre-divorce life. Lucy and I were warriors together—I would build Moms Demand Action, and as a survivor and spokeswoman, she would bring people in. I was inspired by her determination to honor her son’s legacy by working to protect perfect strangers, and she was grateful that I had dedicated my life to the cause. It was Lucy who counseled me on the importance of creating an organization that prioritized diversity—in our volunteers, leaders, and policies—so that our organization was equitable and sustainable.

Over the years, Lucy became a beacon and a friend to me and so many other volunteers and women through Moms Demand Action, especially other mothers who were survivors. It was those women who convinced her to run for Congress after the mass school shooting in Parkland, Florida. Lucy was so devastated by the tragedy that she felt called to run against the congressional incumbent who represented her district in Georgia. It was a longshot campaign—Lucy was running for a seat held by Republicans for more than thirty years in a conservative district, and she was running on the issue of gun safety. But women rallied around Lucy to support her campaign and to get out the vote; in November, despite the odds, she won her race. “Women have always supported me, driven me, prayed over me, and then they lifted me into office,” Lucy says.

Working shoulder to shoulder with Lucy to build Moms Demand Action and helping her create a community of women who are both fellow activists and friends taught me that women can accomplish so much more when we come together. This is why your bonfire represents the peak of your fire’s growth: It takes your individual impact and multiplies it until there is a network of like-minded women working alongside one another toward a shared cause.

Women’s team sports are a perfect example of a bonfire. Devereaux Peters, a shy and reserved introvert, started playing basketball in grade school because it helped her make friends. By the time she was in high school, Devereaux was one of the most valuable players on her team, and she was drafted by Notre Dame. But once she was away from home, Devereaux started struggling with severe homesickness and depression. Her coaches and teammates rallied around her and convinced her to stay. By the end of her college career, Devereaux was a team leader, and even though she wasn’t a top scorer, she was a top WNBA draft pick after graduating. Coaches recognized that her ability to support and uplift other women on her team would also help their teams. “Fans think points are the most important thing about a player, but that wasn’t my role. I was perfectly capable of scoring a lot of points if I needed to, but I didn’t need to,” Devereaux says. “My role was doing whatever it took to fit in well with the team and help us work as a unit.”

Devereaux still returns to Notre Dame regularly to visit the coaching team and to counsel other members of the women’s basketball team. She tells students about her struggle to acclimate at college and encourages players to stick it out during challenging times by leaning on one another. Even though Devereaux no longer plays basketball, the warmth of the friendships from the bonfire she built continues to light her up and inspires the work she’s taken on since leaving the court. “I tell the new generation of players that most of my friends are women I met through basketball, especially college basketball,” Devereaux says. “It’s difficult to be a woman in basketball—people think they know who you are or have opinions about who you should be—but when women stick together, they’re stronger. Not just on the court, but in real life, too.”

Your bonfire will survive long after you put out an individual fire. Unlike other relationships in your life, which might be built on the role you play in someone’s life, such as a wife, mom, daughter, neighbor, or coworker, bonfire friendships are built on the person you want to become. The value of your relationship with your bonfire friend is not measured by how many drop-offs you can do in a week or where you make reservations for dinner. These relationships are about showing up and supporting your friends in the pursuit of shared values. They are about your willingness to go deep and be vulnerable about your path toward growth. They are about wanting to share and celebrate each win and success with other women who recognize the triumphant battle it took to get there. Because of these, bonfire friendships are some of the most flexible yet durable relationships firestarters have. You can call these friends every few months and feel like you are picking up right where you left off.

Brooke Baldwin realized she didn’t yet have a team of women like this in her corner when she was covering the 2017 Women’s March for CNN as an anchor. Brooke was moved to tears by the communities of women she was interviewing all over the country—women who were coming together in their communities to bond over their shared anger over the outcome of the presidential election. “I had a moment where I realized I didn’t have my own huddle to show up at a protest with,” Brooke says. “The Women’s March made me realize that friendships were something I wanted and needed to start prioritizing.”

Brooke began writing her book, Huddle: How Women Unlock Their Collective Power, to understand better how women create bonds—through sports, politics, and everyday friendships—and she set out on a journey to build her own bonfire. The women Brooke befriended served as a crucial support system when she decided to leave her job at CNN after thirteen years. Two of those friends even flew out to be by her side at the studio in New York City when she said her last goodbyes on air. Politics and media were not the things these friends valued about Brooke. They cherished her heart and desire to dream big, and they supported her as she put out her fire at CNN and embarked on a new journey.

With more space to reimagine her life, Brooke got divorced, moved to Los Angeles, and landed a new role as the host of a Netflix game show called Trust. Not everyone was excited about Brooke’s momentous life changes, but the support from the friendships she’d been investing in emboldened her to be the bravest version of herself. “For the first time, I had the space to determine who was willing to stand by me no matter what, and those are the people who are now my chosen family—women who want my light to shine even brighter,” Brooke says. “I had to burn down so many things in my life and let go of people who no longer served me in order to enter this new phase—to birth this person I believe I was always meant to be.”

Brooke’s journey has had its ups and downs, but her huddle is always there, encouraging her to keep moving forward. “I’ve spent many days in tears, and it would have been very easy to fall back into what was comfortable in my past life,” Brooke says. “Every time I’ve felt alone, isolated, or unsure, the women in my life have shown up, allowed me to be vulnerable, held me accountable, and given me unconditional support. That abundance mentality helps us unlock the power in one another.”

That power often comes from sharing information, but because women who come together to exert their influence and authority threaten societal systems, when women connect and build community, they’re accused of “gossiping.” In the 1500s, actual proclamations prevented women from meeting to “babble and talk,” their husbands were ordered to keep their wives in their homes, away from other women. This is precisely why bonfires are integral to living on fire; they enable women to defy societal values by helping them reclaim what they value.

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This was an excerpt from my upcoming book, “Fired Up: How to Turn Your Spark Into a Flame and Come Alive at Any Age”, available on June 17! Preorder your copy today.

In case you missed it:

• I was recently on the Work in Progress podcast with Sophia Bush with the message that it’s never too old, or too late, to go after what you want. Listen wherever you get your podcasts.

• I was also on Hello Houston’s Cold Coffee with Celeste Díaz Schurman to talk about my new book. Watch it here.

• If you haven’t watched the replay, be sure to check out my Substack Live conversation with the incredible

  Gretchen Rubin
  !

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My new book Fired Up: How to Turn Your Spark Into a Flame and Come Alive at Any Age, is available for preorder! Out in June 2025, Fired Up will give you the formula for finding your unique spark and show you how to use it to start fires in your life. By preordering, you can enroll for FREE in Firestarter University, a year-long online program that includes live monthly workshops, workbooks and resources, accountability check-ins, and a community to help you succeed.