This morning, I attended  “Context and Consequences: A Conversation with Shirley Sherrod,” at the National Association of Black Journalists’ 35th Annual Convention in San Diego.

Sherrod has made headlines over the past two weeks for her forced resignation from the U.S. Department of Agriculture after conservative blogger Andrew Breitbart posted video excerpts of Sherrod’s address at a March 2010 NAACP event on  his website. The NAACP initially condemned her remarks and U.S. government officials called on her to resign. Upon review of the unedited video in context, the NAACP, White House officials, and Tom Vilsack, the U.S. Secretary of Agriculture, apologized soon after and Sherrod was offered a new position. Sherrod has not yet decided if she will accept the job offer.

Sherrod spoke to a round table of journalists about how she feels the media (namely Fox) made something out of nothing. She later went on to note that she plans to sue Breitbart.

I was awestruck by how real Mrs. Sherrod was. As she sat on stage, admittedly in the midst of a career crisis, with notable journalists, and was interviewed by CNN’s Don Lemon, she held a sense of confidence and self assurance that can only come from being yourself and knowing that you have been being yourself. Consistently.

“How I’ve reacted, it’s not an act. That’s how I am.  I couldn’t act any other way, ” she said of her reaction to the firestorm.

Mrs. Sherrod wasn’t shaken by allegations of her racism because she knew at her core that she was not racist. She knew that her actions have never been racist. And if anyone were to do a little digging, they would uncover the same thing.

Because she is living her brand.

Are you?

You should know that someone is always watching you. Can you say, as Mrs. Sherrod did that how you are is not an act? If you can say that, even when no one is watching, then you are living your brand.

Brand inconsistencies can come in all sorts shapes and sizes. One day it may be your clothes, but another day it may be how we speak, how we treat people or how we deal with clients and customers. If you get a reputation for dealing with your clients in a fair and equitable way, that reputation will follow you. If all of the sudden you stop paying your employees and /or subcontractors, what do you think this will do to your brand?

Think about this: if you were to face a crisis in your business or personal life the first thing your adversaries will do is begin to try to dig up “the dirt” on you. They will immediately go to someone who may have a “beef” with you. I remember that’s what we were trained to do as journalists to get the other side of the story. But if your brand is strong, and you have been living your brand, there will be no dirt to be found.

Allows let your end goals guide how you carry yourself. How do you want your clients and customers to think of you? If you work for a company, how do you want to perceived by your superiors? When you’re schlepping around on weekends, are you still living your brand? Or do you revert to a careless and less polished version of yourself: a person who may use foul language, treat people rudely, and show up in public places dressed inappropriately?

At the end of the day, when you put yourself in the public eye, know that someone is always watching. Living your brand means not acting real, but being real, so that there’s never any inconsistency.

So I broke down and hired a stylist.

And I’ll admit, I feel kind of fabulous saying that. And even more fabulous having photos like these of my own clothes:

I should back up a bit. And explain why I felt the need (and could justify the expense) of hiring someone to essentially pick out my clothes.

I used to feel so put together back when I was what I considered my perfect size, weight, and when I was doing exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I was about 22-years-old and I felt I had figured everything out. I had done pretty well with college, become this rock star English major who consistently wowed her professors with thoughtful papers on Post-Colonialism, the concept of “the Other” and the Negritude movement. I was, in my opinion (with all of the perspective a 22-year-old can muster) at the height of my writing and focused on pushing the envelope in both literature, cultural criticism and journalism. I was confident and sassy with an artsy twist.  But at the same time, I was about my business.

I was this girl:

Then…something changed. As quickly as I found Amanda, I began to lose her. I struggled to eek out a career path that included my interests in creative writing, content production and business. I started out doing public relations work with the Congressional Black Caucus Foundation, then I worked for a while at a lobbying firm, and got to travel abroad and do some important networking and learn the ins and outs of consulting with government agencies and  foreign countries. But soon that didn’t allow me to flex my creative muscles often enough. So I started freelance PR writing on the side. And then when this story was published in the Sunday Washington Post, I got the journalism bug. I began putting myself out there and  building my portfolio of clips. After a while, I landed a journalism fellowship to Northwestern University’s Medill School that opened the door to a coveted staff writer position at the Washington City Paper.

During all of this change, my style was in limbo, but it didn’t really matter. Because no one was really looking at me, or so I thought. I was simply the writer; the vessel charged at getting the story out into the world.

Fast forward a few years. I’m on maternity leave, and my editor is calling me to let me know that my paper is making further cuts so I have a decision to make: I can give up my job or stick around and take someone else’s spot. I pass on filling the space since I was contemplating getting back to my PR.

By this time I was a mom, and totally without a sense of style. Marriage, another baby, a blog, and a company later puts me here before you, the same soulful writer who is not  (as I waxed poetically back in 1999)

in my milieu

I want

to pack a lunch

and head for the high grass.

I want to slide my Doc Marten’s on

then kick them off

to wait for me outside

the enchantment of a grass-covering blanket.

But I can’t do that now. Doc Martens? Yeah right!

This stylist is amazing. She told me candidly: “Amanda, you have to represent your company, now.” Recently we were preparing some looks for my upcoming trip to San Diego for the NABJ Conference.  I’m speaking on a panel about Turning Your Passion Into a PR Career, and I never know what to wear to these things.

We picked out a few different things to wear and Robin, (the stylist), helped me pair everything together with accessories and the right shoes. When she pointed to pair of wide leg black pants and said “You can wear these on the plane, with a nice cardigan…” I laughed.

“I can just wear my yoga pants,” I said.

“Amanda,” she said sternly. “You’re going on a business trip to make a presentation. Who do you think you’re going to see on the plane? Your audience. You can’t look great at the event, and look a mess on the plane.”

That’s what she said. But you know what I heard?

Keep your branding consistent.

Is your branding consistent? You may have the most amazing logo, the most clean copy writing and beautiful brochures. But what about you? Is your personal presentation pulling the package all together? Or are you failing your brand, causing the house you’ve so carefully built to fall apart once people meet you in person?

Ouch.

So now, I try to be cognizant whenever I leave the house because while I may have the heart of the poet, I have to have the sheen of your publicist.

I’m interested to know how you are navigating this terrain. Is your branding consistent? How much time/effort do you put into your outward appearance and how important do you think it is? Have you had to do a rebrand?

Want more heartfelt observations from the front lines of my PR path? Order my book,  The Mopwater Manual.