For years now I’ve been talking about, and writing about, how women should complete and not compete with each other… and I often wondered where this passion, this mission came from.

A few years back it became crystal clear.

When I was a little girl, I loved Hanukah. And one year the only thing I wanted – the only thing I wished for and hoped for – was the brand-new Barbie doll. My mother found her at one of the big department stores.

When she handed me the gift-wrapped box, I feverishly ripped it open, and there she was my dream doll – BARBIE.

I wanted all of my clothing to have Velcro, and to live in a pink plastic house.

A few days later, we were going to Brooklyn. A Hanukah tradition, ritual. My Aunt Gertie, my mom’s sister, lived in Brooklyn, and for a few years we would go and celebrate, and open more gifts. My mom’s other sister, my Aunt Pauline, was coming in from Indiana and she was bringing my cousin, Debbie, with her. Debbie and I were just a couple of years apart. After all the kissing and hugging, I showed Debbie my Barbie doll and to say she swooned would be an understatement.

My Aunt Pauline took my mother aside to let her know that she looked high and low for the doll, that DOLL, for Debbie, but they were all sold out, and that was all Debbie wanted.

You could feel the guilt filling the room.

My mother, inching her way toward me, said, in not a subtle way, “I want you to be a good girl … and give Debbie your Barbie doll. Go… go… give it to her.”

Now imagine me, this little girl, hugging tightly to my now very favorite doll, and the tears flowing as I reluctantly handed my cousin my Barbie doll.

That moment … was imprinted on “my little girl soul.”

My mother wanted so desperately to be loved, to be seen as the generous, benevolent sister – woman – at the expense – the deep profound emotional expense – of her own child, willing to have my heart shattered. Her relationship with her sisters – and other women, including me, her very own daughter, was competitive. It was years later – when I was in my 20’s – that I understood with every fiber in me the irrefutable power of completing – not competing with – another woman.

And being a writer – my deep creative passion – requires collaboration, or as I like to refer to it as: completing each other.

I’ve had the great good fortune in the past thirty plus years to work with many women who were extraordinary collaborators – “completers”. And no, not all were perfect matches, but the ones that didn’t quite fit, didn’t match … taught me a valuable lesson.

Collaboration, completion, is about bringing out the best in someone, in others.

Creating an environment where others feel empowered, wanting others to be huge, and successful – rooting and cheering them on.

Being able to let go of the need to be right, the need to be the center of attention, the need to be the best, the brightest, the smartest.

It requires acceptance, patience, and yes, kindness.

It requires generosity of spirit, inclusion and creativity.

It requires letting others have a voice, a space, an opportunity to step up and stand tall.

It requires love, unconditional love.

There isn’t a woman I know who doesn’t wish to be supported, lifted, and nurtured. To know that her voice, her life matters. There isn’t a woman I know who doesn’t long to believe in the beauty of her own life. There isn’t a woman I know who wouldn’t welcome generosity with open arms and an open heart.

And so, the grown-up Amy would tell her mother, “No, she can’t have my doll, and we don’t need to give anything away to be loved.”